Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Itook an abrupt left turn past Sammy’s Sandwich Shop, skipped down a flight of stairs that smelled overwhelmingly like pee, pushed open the heavy metal door, and walked inside.
The door shut behind me firmly, cutting off the sounds of the city, I waited until my eyeballs adjusted to the sudden darkness, and listened to someone murdering a rendition of an eighties power ballad. It was Gary, by the sounds of it. He was always partial to hair bands.
The Karaoke Cove was the epitome of a dive bar—a seedy old basement with a handful of rickety tables and chairs in front of a tiny corner stage and stained, sticky carpet that might have been red once upon a time.
Cress huffed. “This place smells atrocious.” She whipped off her cloak, popping into a full, blisteringly sexy vision beside me.
“What are you doing?”
“We only agreed to hide ourselves in your place of employment, Chosen. I’m not skulking under a glamor cloak in here.”
“But—” I cut myself off abruptly. It wasn’t like anyone else could see them, anyway. Just then, I realized that I couldn’t sense my other hallucination anymore. “Where the hell is Donovan?”
She sniffed. “He walked in ahead of you, of course. He is still upset with you for tricking him with the tiny moving office. He will be scouting this tavern for danger, to ensure you are safe.”
Tension simmered in my stomach; I forced my hands to unclench. Just pretend they’re not here, I told myself. Because they’re not. Get up on stage, sing a couple of songs, release some tension. Go back to work, finish your day…
And pack up your desk because you’re about to get fired, anyway.
I blew out a breath. “Fine. Before we go through to the bar, Cress, what is it you want me to do with Hyacinth? Should I just ask her for the stone?”
“Gods, Chosen, are you mad? A common mermaid will not have the spark stone. The sea witch guards the siren stone. She would never let it out of her sight.”
“So…” I raised my eyebrows. “You want me to ask Hyacinth to go and get the sea witch and come here?”
Cress reared back, horrified. “What is wrong with you? Of course not! Why would you think it would be a good idea to invite the dark malevolent power of Jengrakenzlore into the human realm? Are you mad?”
“Yes, apparently I am.” I held up a finger and gave her a stern look. “If you have feedback for me, Cress, please make sure it is constructive. You need to remember I don’t have a clue about any of this, so you need to be clear with your instructions.”
She stared at me sullenly. “Find this Hyacinth. You will need to either strike a bargain with her or trick her into taking us to a Mer portal. Once we are in their realm, we will need her to guide us to the lair of the great sea witch. She guards their spark stone.”
“Okay.” Easy-peasy, lemon-delusions. “Do I want to know what I’ll have to do once we get to the sea witch’s lair?”
“No. I do not wish to scare you.”
I grimaced. “Fine. Let’s go.” I swished the curtain back and strode into the little basement bar.
I was right. Gary, a fifty-something actuary from Wisconsin, was standing onstage with one foot up on the speaker, head thrown back, tunelessly screeching about how much he missed the rains down in Africa.
My eyes adjusted to the red lights slowly. Apart from Banoy, the bartender, the place was practically deserted, but that was normal for lunchtime on a Thursday.
Banoy waved at me from behind the bar as I walked in, giving me a big smile. “Hello, Susan!”
“Hey, Banoy. Have you had a chance to get up there today?”
“No.” He shook his head sadly and slid a diet soda onto the bar for me. “We’re too busy today, Susan. Maybe tomorrow.”
Banoy wasn’t allowed to get up on stage when there were people in the bar to hear him; it upset the singing enthusiasts too much.
Not many people realized that karaoke was like a national sport in the Philippines, and nobody liked getting their delusions of grandeur crushed by a skinny old Filipino man who could murder any rendition of any nineties power ballad you could think of.
I’d heard him once; Banoy sang like an angel. His voice literally brought me to tears.
I wandered inside, weaving through the empty tables and chairs which were placed too-close together. Cress drifted away from me, melting into the darkness around the corner from the bar.
A prickle shot down my shoulder blades. There was Donovan, leaning up against the velvet curtains in the back corner in almost total darkness. His deep emerald eyes flashed in the gloom, focused, poised, in full stalking-predator mode.
My stomach flipped when I caught sight of him; both him and Cress had changed into their battle leathers.
The hard, tight midnight-black suit wrapped around his powerful legs perfectly, and the sculpted armor over his tunic highlighted every hard muscle, every taut and poised line in his body.
Michelangelo would weep at the sight of such perfection—such powerful proportions, such a perfect balance of predatory beauty, feral grace, and supreme power.
Nobody seemed to notice him. Then again, there was barely anyone in here, only a couple of people slouched at the tables right in front of the stage.
I recognized both of them—Timothy, a retired alcoholic with a penchant for very long blues songs, and Jackie, a stocky bus driving lesbian who enjoyed belting R a very tailored and sharply pressed beige ensemble that gave off Gestapo vibes.
Aha! There she was. Hyacinth stood to the right of the stage, quivering with expectation and fingering her own bejeweled microphone she’d bought from home.
Now that I looked at her, it was no wonder my broken brain had decided she was a mermaid.
Hyacinth was probably my age—mid forties, or so, with a thick head of long, wavy dark-honey colored hair.
She was curvy and always dressed to show it off, favoring fifties-style pin-up fashion.
Today she wore a low-cut blue and white polka-dot dress, showing off her ample boobs, a waist-cinching, thick white patent belt, and a tight knee-length skirt that hugged her thighs.
My eyes focused on her huge necklace; chunky orange beads with a large resin starfish hung between her boobs. She always wore statement jewelry. Mindful that I only had one hour for lunch and I should wrap this up quickly, I marched over to her. “Hey, Hyacinth!”
She glared at me. “You’re not cutting in today, Susan. I’m next. Banoy has already programmed my song.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m not going to cut in, Hyacinth.
I would never dream of it. Besides.” I smiled.
As soon as she called me a psycho, my delusions would be satisfied, and I could leave and go back to work.
“You’ve got an adoring crowd to seduce with your siren song. You can’t let your fans down.”
“Ah ha.” Her eyes narrowed further; I could almost feel her picking me apart. “You’ve finally decided to put your cards on the table and challenge me, haven’t you? Took you long enough.”
A trickle of unease ran through me. Working to keep my face relaxed, I made my mouth move. “Whatever do you mean?”
She snorted. “Oh, Susan. Do you think I’m stupid? I can tell you right now, you’ll never beat me. My voice is pure magic. You might have a little talent, but you have maybe one-hundredth of my power, you know?”
The trickle of unease turned into a river of foreboding. “I don’t actually know, Hyacinth. But that’s quite mean.”
“Cut the crap.” She tossed back her hair. “I am a siren. My song seduces all who hear it. I don’t know who you are, but you’re a weak-as-piss version of me.” She squared her shoulders, thrust out her chest, and got right in my face. “You’ll never be me, Susan, as much as you might want to be.”
Oh, right. Hyacinth was as nuts as I was. This wasn’t new information.
It was time to go all-in. What did Cress say? Make a deal? Trick her?
“Well then, bitch,” I murmured, smiling sweetly. “If you think you’re so amazing, let’s make a deal.”
Her overplucked eyebrow rose. “I don’t need to make deals with you.”
“Oh, you’re scared, are you? Scared of a little competition when it comes to singing?”
She snorted. “I’m not scared. I’ll destroy you.”
I needed to taunt her a little more. “You think you will.” My lip curled in a smirk. “I’ve been holding back.”
Her jaw ticked. “You have not.”
“I have.”
She studied me carefully for a second. “It won’t make a difference. You don’t have the power I have.”
“Well,” I sighed. “I guess you’ll never know.”
We glared at each other for a whole moment. I waited patiently. Finally, she cracked. “What’s the deal?”
Here’s where I found out how crazy she actually was. “Duet,” I snarled, holding her gaze. “The Boy Is Mine. I’ll do Brandy, you do Monica. If you win, I promise to never come into this bar ever again. But if I win…”
I took a breath, composing myself. You never got used to people’s scorn when they realized how insane you actually were.
I swallowed. “If I win, you take me and my friends through a portal to the mermaid realm.”
There was a long, long moment of silence, while Hyacinth and I stared at each other. I cringed a little bit. God, this was embarrassing.
Finally, her cherry-colored lip curled. “I wondered what those sexy Fae bastards in the corner were up to. You’re doing this for them, aren’t you? They want you to get them into my home realm, don’t they?”
I relaxed slightly. Hyacinth was playing along. “Maybe.”
She looked away, suddenly uncertain. “The portals to the mer realm are supposed to stay secret. Security reasons, y’know?”
“Oh, yes, I know,” I nodded, as if I understood. A bubble of slightly hysterical laughter escaped my lips.
Luckily, Hyacinth was still thinking. She chewed on her lip for a while. “It’s not like you’re actually going to beat me, anyway...”
“I might. You never know.”
Her eyes flashed. “I do.”
“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of, then.”
Her jaw hardened. “Fine. You’ve got a deal. Whoever is first to get to Superstar level on the Applause-o-meter wins.”
I grinned, and held out my hand, and shook hers firmly. “Deal.” I turned and walked towards the bar. “Banoy? Change of plans. Queue up number four-oh-nine-five and reset the Applause-o-meter to two-player mode.
“Yasss, girl!” Banoy did a little shimmy of delight and tapped on the monitor behind the bar. “It’s battle time!”
Gary’s song had finally come to an end. I climbed on stage, gave him a pat on his very sweaty back, and plucked the microphone out of his hands.
Hyacinth, thrusting out her chest, joined me on the stage, stomped to the center of the tiny space, and jabbed me in the ribs with an elbow at the same time. “Move over, bitch,” she hissed.
I grimaced and conceded a couple of inches, my stomach sinking. I should have thought this through more thoroughly. I knew I was a better singer than Hyacinth, but she always seemed to get the highest scores on the Applause-o-meter. Damn mermaid magic.
Doubt nudged me. Maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought I was.
If I lost, I wouldn’t be able to come back again. I’d lose my creative outlet, my way to blow off steam. I needed this seedy underground dive bar. It was my dirty secret. Nobody I knew would ever come in here. And there was nothing else like this in a twenty-block radius.
Damn it. Well, it was too late now. I was going to do this like I did everything. Once-hundred-percent effort, play to win.
The song started; both of us began to sing the intro. Breathy voices, soft vibrato. Hyacinth swayed next to me, batting her eyelashes at Timothy and Jackie, our only audience.
Hyacinth sang the first line; I took the second, then, it was her turn again. She rolled her hips seductively as she sang. Timothy winked at her and let out a hoot.
The needle on her side of the Applause-o-meter crept up.
I sang again, putting a little more emotion into my performance. Jackie hollered appreciatively, but it wasn’t enough to move my needle past Hyacinth’s. She butted me aside with her hips and sang again; both Jackie and Timothy hooted. Her needle moved up again.
An idea hit me. Whoever got to Superstar first won. That meant whoever got the audience to make the most noise while they were singing would win our bet.
All I had to do was get Timothy and Jackie to scream.
Hyacinth, doing a little shimmy, turned around so her back was to the audience, and she could sing seductively over her shoulder.
It was a sex-kitten maneuver I’d seen her pull many times, something that usually elicited lots of appreciative catcalls and loud hoots.
She wanted to wrap this up quickly. Giving a sexy pout, she lifted her bedazzled microphone to her lips and opened her mouth.
I did a spin around her and punched her in the stomach.
Hyacinth gasped, winded, and mouthed like a goldfish, suddenly unable to sing her verse.
I walked to the front of the stage, belting my verse out. And since I had no self-respect left, anyway, I ripped open my blouse, displaying my lacy black bra, and shimmied my boobs vigorously right at the edge of the stage.
Timothy and Jackie both leapt to their feet and screamed in tandem. “Yesssss! Oh my goddddd! Wooo hooooo!”
The needle on my side jumped straight to Superstar.
I turned to Hyacinth. Her face had turned red. “Game over, fishgirl.” I dropped the microphone.