Page 19 of Siren in Love (In Love #1)

Mike

W hen the knocking woke Mike from a deep sleep, it was still dark out, the middle of the night. Corvin didn’t stir at all in Mike’s arms. The knocking was coming from their bedroom door, and there was only one other person in the house.

Mike swallowed his curses and instead untangled himself from Corvin without waking him. He grabbed a pair of pajama pants from a drawer on his way and quickly pulled them on before opening their bedroom door a crack.

He was met with John’s face, and the werewolf looked terrified. “They’re here,” he said, voice crackling with fear.

Mike stepped out into the hallway and closed the bedroom door so they wouldn’t wake Corvin. “Who’s here?”

John was trembling. His eyes were wide, their golden color shimmering in the darkness. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. “The loups-garous.”

What the fuck? “You have loups-garous after you? Those vicious fucking murder shifters?”

John swallowed. “They want me back, probably. Or to kill me.” His voice was shaky with the terror already evident in his demeanor. “Can you call Peter?”

“Where did you see them?”

“I was checking the locks downstairs,” John said, and Mike ignored how disturbing it was that John had been sneaking around the house in the middle of the night without him noticing.

“I saw one of them outside the kitchen window, sniffing the air. Picking up scent, you know. He was alone, but the others won’t be far.

They formed a pack, and you know their kind always get worse when they band together. ”

Mike’s brain kicked into crisis mode. “I’m waking Corvin. Get ready to leave.” He dashed back into the bedroom.

Corvin lay there, his breaths coming slow with deep sleep. Mike bent over him and gently shook him by the shoulder. “Honey. Corvin, honey, I need you to wake up.”

Corvin’s eyes slowly opened. “Hmm?”

Mike let a drop of his siren song flow into his voice, something he had never done. But this is to protect him. I’d do anything to protect him.

“I need you to get up and get dressed. We need to leave. I’ll explain later.”

It did the trick. Corvin, not quite fully awake yet, still did as he’d been told, although he reached for the lights.

“No,” Mike said, snatching Corvin’s wrist before he could flip the switch. “Don’t turn on any lights.”

They both got dressed quickly and quietly and met John in the hallway.

“What’s happening?” Corvin asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about, hon.” Mike took Corvin’s hand. I’ll keep you safe. Everything will be fine.

“What do we do?” John asked. “Did you call Peter?”

“No.”

Peter was probably busy dealing with this situation on his end, whatever the situation actually was. Mike also knew he was siren enough to handle a few loups-garous—permanently, if need be. His only real worry was keeping Corvin safe. Safe and unaware.

John looked at Mike. “Man, we can’t—”

“Be quiet and do what I tell you.” Mike didn’t even bother to temper his song.

John dropped his gaze, but he kept quiet. They hurried down the stairs without exchanging a word, by unspoken agreement and the force of Mike’s song.

Downstairs, Mike grabbed his car keys from the bowl on the hallway shelf. He stopped at the front door to meet Corvin’s eyes in the darkness.

“Corvin, I want you to get in the back seat. John, shotgun, but stay low. Got it?”

They both nodded, Corvin looking confused and John scared as hell. Mike started humming, letting his song flow through him and out. He opened the door and increased the volume as they crossed the threshold.

A part of Mike hoped John had been mistaken, that the werewolf had had a bad dream and had gotten scared of shadows, but no such luck. In response to Mike’s song, snarls and growls from the darkness, from the bushes and from behind a car parked across the street, could be heard.

Fuck. Mike increased the volume of his song.

They sprinted to the car, and Mike unlocked the doors with the fob. Corvin got in the back, and John slid into the passenger seat. Mike went around to the driver’s side.

The problem with a car was that it had nice acoustics inside but wasn’t all that great for reaching ears outside.

Mike opened the door and got in, but didn’t close it.

He started the engine, carefully singing louder to make sure nothing jumped him while they got ready to leave.

He lowered the windows in the front, but not the back to keep Corvin safe.

Once that was done, he closed the door and shifted from humming to open-mouthed singing to drown out the noise of the car. Mike pulled out of the driveway and floored it as much as he dared within city limits.

Large dark shapes followed them in his rearview mirror, keeping close. Mike took turns he hoped would slow them, and once he had put some distance between them and the loups-garous, he stopped singing.

The moment he did, he saw Corvin’s face in the rearview mirror, blinking sleep from his eyes and meeting his gaze.

“Mike, what’s going on?”

“There are some people coming after John, honey, but it’s going to be fine. Now, do me a favor and get down.” He didn’t use his song this time around, but Corvin knew Mike’s I’m-handling-this voice, so he still did what Mike told him to do. He ducked down in the back, his breath steadying.

“Man, we can’t outrun them,” John whispered.

“We aren’t even going to try,” Mike said, taking a sharp right turn that had his tires squeaking.

There was an old cotton mill on the outskirts of New Elvenswood. It was a place Mike knew well, because his mom had taken him there when he was a kid, his voice still years from breaking but already swelling with siren song.

The cotton mill had great acoustics, almost as nice as some churches or opera houses designed for it. Mike had learned to master his song there, and it would be the best place to gain an advantage against a band of bloodthirsty loups-garous.

The larger-than-wolf shapes kept following, and Mike hurled his song at them through the open windows every now and then, although he didn’t really try to lose them.

When the cotton mill came into view, Mike sped up so they’d have some time to get inside the building. He pulled onto the property, the force of the turn pushing him into his seat.

From not that far away, Mike heard the howling of a loup-garou, and the drawn-out sound spoke of blood and shattering bone, of claws and the tearing of flesh beneath them. If Mike had stopped acting long enough, fear might’ve found him, but he wouldn’t let that happen.

“Be ready to get out!” He laced the command with song, pulling the car to a halt moments later.

They were at the back of the building, where a loading deck allowed easy entrance.

Mike had no idea who made sure the abandoned structure wasn’t used by transients or teenagers looking to party, but he was glad they did. “Out, now,” he ordered John and Corvin.

With the force of his voice, the other two obeyed. Mike hummed once he was on his feet, then reached for Corvin’s hand, interlacing their fingers. They sprinted into the building. John stayed close, even if Mike was pretty sure the werewolf could’ve outrun them.

The darkness of the cotton mill soon swallowed them, and Mike had to navigate it as much by memory as by sight. The echoes of his own humming helped too.

Navigating by sound and echo was a trick all sirens had up their sleeves, but it wasn’t one widely known by others. The sounds of growling and sniffing and clawed paws giving chase followed them.

“Why are there dogs behind us?” Corvin asked. “Mike? What’s happening?”

“Just—the people after me have dogs. Like bloodhounds, you know,” John said while Mike was busy humming.

So nice to hear that werewolf say something useful at last, Mike thought.

The pillars inside the building cast eerie shadows and split the sounds like giant blades. The floor and walls were spider-webbed with the cracks of age and neglect, and broken window glass added even more edges to the sharp, broken darkness all around them.

Echoes told Mike there were loups-garous behind them, four in total, though more might still be outside. It was difficult to fathom what they wanted with John, but it wasn’t anything that was relevant in their current situation, so Mike chose to not dwell on it.

Stairs tucked away behind a standing wall to their right led to the second floor, and there, Mike knew, a row of offices offered a good place to hide Corvin for as long as it would take him to deal with the loups-garous.

The beasts in question snarled and snapped their vicious jaws shut around nothing but air. They wanted blood. Mike heard it in their every noise, felt it in the vibrato of their heartbeats.

The cotton mill, although it was a large space, was small enough for his siren sense to know what the beasts would do if he stopped singing, if he ran out of breath, if they got to them.

They reached the stairs, and Mike waited for John to go up first. He followed with Corvin, his ears tuned in to the sounds of their pursuers.

As they reached the landing, Mike heard all of the loups-garous take deep breaths.

It made him uneasy, and then when he realized what they wanted to do, it made his skin tingle with ice.

As one, the loups-garous howled. The sound came together, the sharp edges of their voices still disparate but no less forceful for it.

It was loud, loud enough to drown out Mike’s voice, and one of the loups-garous peeled off from the group and sped up the stairs after them. One set of jaws would be enough to kill three people.

Mike turned and saw the black fur, the dark eyes, the light gleaming off sharp claws. He felt Corvin’s fingers tighten around his own, heard him gasp in fear.

But what Corvin couldn’t know was the true strength of Mike’s song or the way he knew this building like the back of his hand. If Corvin hadn’t been with him, Mike would’ve sharpened a melody against the loup-garou, but with Corvin here, Mike simply…screamed.

The way he held his head as he let the sound out allowed the noise to ricochet off walls and beams like a silver bullet, and it struck the loup-garou that had come up after them, taking the beast down.

It hit its jaw on the stairs, and the noise of that maw snapping closed was incredibly satisfying.

“Come on, hon,” he said before resuming his humming. The loups-garous still howled, but they were running out of breath, and one of the four was already down; not dead, but at least out for the time being.

Mike led the way toward the offices, pulled open a door, and shoved Corvin inside.

“Stay here. Hide,” he told Corvin, his song an irresistible command. Mike closed the door and ran, John at his heels.

“Why’d you stop singing?” the werewolf asked.

“Shut up and stay behind me.”

With Mike silent now, the loups-garous closed in.

Mike’s theory had been right, they weren’t interested in Corvin at all, but very interested in John.

Their growls and snarls spoke of all the things they wanted to do to the werewolf, both in fur and human shape.

They made cold shivers run down Mike’s spine.

At the end of this floor, there was another set of metal steps.

Mike sprinted toward them, taking them two at a time.

He tossed a few hummed syllables at the loups-garous, just to make sure they wouldn’t catch up before he wanted them to.

On that floor, there was a walkway snaking along an outside wall lined with large, evenly spaced windows.

Sirens could lure, but as his mom had told Mike, it was only good to lure if you had a hook and the strength to get it into someone’s heart and pull them under with it buried deep.

“Shit, we’re high up,” John said as Mike pushed him onto the walkway. It overlooked the floor of the cotton mill, where once the fabrics would have been woven on large, noisy machines.

The walkway and its railing were metal, and Mike heard it creaking under their combined weight. He’d have heard it if it had been rusted through, but it wasn’t. It sounded sturdy, despite its age.

Still, Mike forced himself to look uneasy as he kept himself between John and the snarling shadows following them. The loups-garous sounded victorious now, gleeful. They thought they had cornered their prey, thought Mike had run out of breath.

Nowhere near . You’ll regret hunting this poor werewolf kid.

A large paw stomped onto the walkway, the silvery fur ashen in the moonlight that filtered in through the age-dulled windows. The beast’s eyes were bright with intent, reinforced by that snarl and the bared fangs dripping with spit.

This, if Mike was any judge, was the leader of the group, and he’d claimed first blood, first kill.

His mouth fell open, a red tongue lolling out and licking the air.

The loup-garou was looking forward to the sound of bone shattering under the force of his teeth, of the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

He wanted his prey to scream and plead, even as he tore into them and made them feel his might.

John’s fingers dug into Mike’s biceps. He whimpered. Mike heard the memories of pain in that single sound, heard the sheer fear of more of the same, of worse.

No more. Whatever they did to him, I won’t let it happen again.

Three more steps until the walkway took a ninety-degree turn.

The loup-garou in the lead was followed by two more monsters, eating up the distance with their strides. Their claws clicked against the metal, and the moonlight made their muscular backs stand out, gilding the sharp tips of their ears.

Two more steps. The lead loups-garous went low, crouched. He was going to jump them.

The last step.

“ Down!”

Mike’s voice was pure song, irresistible force. John obeyed.

After that single word, Mike sang, sang like his ancestors had done everywhere—on the ocean, on the shore, to their lovers, to their enemies.

He sang seduction and abandonment, sang his will against the violence that the beast would have inflicted on them. His siren song was infinitely wide and deep, a well of melody so primal that it could seize any heart, make it beat, make it break, force it to stand still.

You can’t get past a siren with viciousness. Not when I am that siren.

Mike sang and didn’t stop when he heard the glass break.