Page 1 of Siren’s Mark (The Siren’s Mark Duology #1)

ZANE

An immortal walks into a hospital.

I don’t have the punchline to this one yet, but it feels like it’s got to be a joke.

The wind shakes the barren trees that line the walkway toward the building’s automatic sliding glass doors.

I pull out my phone to re-read Kami’s texts.

Kami

In hospital - Need you to meet me

Not dead btw

Of course she didn’t include her room number.

I hate hospitals. They’re just monuments to the fragility of humans; a constant reminder that illness and death are around every corner. How do they even live like that—knowing that at any minute it could all just end?

My eyes scan over the building directory until I find the words ‘Information Desk’ and head in that direction.

The lobby has that typical bland hospital look: white, barren walls and taupe carpet. I’ve never understood why everything in hospitals is white and beige—the two colors that are impossible to get blood stains out of.

A few people are queued up at the desk, with many more seated in what appear to be the world’s least-comfortable chairs.

Me

How do I get to your room?

I guess I’m going to have to wait like everyone else.

I stand behind an older man hooked up to a machine that he rolls along with him. They really shouldn’t make sick people stand here waiting like this.

I glance back at my phone; still no response.

As I look up, the girl approaching the counter catches my eye.

She seems out of place in this room of ailing, elderly people.

She looks about 25 and, at least on the surface, in perfect health.

Her hair is dyed a vivid shade of purple and she’s dressed in a leather jacket, skinny jeans, and combat boots. She’s an anomaly.

Who are you?

“I get that,” she says to the grumpy-looking woman behind the desk, “but I’ve literally been here four times this month. Do you really need the same forms again? I mean, I’m already in your system, right?”

The receptionist glares at the girl through the rim of her glasses. She mutters something about hospital policy and the girl lets out a frustrated sigh before grabbing a pen and sitting down with the forms.

Before too long, it’s my turn and I approach the desk.

“Hello, love,” I say, giving the woman my best charming smile. Thanks to the glass barrier between us, I can’t just use my powers this time and will have to rely on my other gifts.

“Primary complaint?” she asks in a monotone voice.

Okay, I guess I’m a little rusty.

“Uh… I’m looking for Kami Selim. She called me asking me to meet her here but I don’t know her room number,” I say.

Her eyebrows lower and she gives me a look that is equal parts judgmental and unimpressed.

Apparently I’m a lot rusty.

“I can’t give you patient details, sir,” she says.

“I understand,” I say. “Could you at least tell her I’m here?”

“Sorry, I can’t confirm whether or not this patient is even in the hospital.”

Bloody humans. I should have known better. People only help you if there’s something in it for them.

As I ponder a way to get past this woman, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Kami

207

AVA

If I have to fill out this stupid form one more time, I’m going to lose it. If I didn’t have diabetes last week, I don’t have it this week.

Name, birth date, Social Security number, new/returning patient…

Really? Feels like deja vu. A frustrated sigh escapes me as I write them in—again.

Heart condition? Asthma? Lung disease? Certainly not since I filled this out on Thursday. I take my pencil and just draw a line down the “No” column then flip the page.

Name and birth date. Again?? I’m struggling to resist the urge to be sarcastic here. What happens if I put a different name on the second page?

I think for a moment before I settle on writing “Stop asking me.”

“Not why I’m calling,” I hear a man’s voice say in a British accent. “Her room number is 207. But I’m not sure what to do from here. What do we have to say at a hospital here?”

He’s tall and almost offensively good looking, with shaggy brown hair and a thin layer of neatly trimmed facial hair.

He’s wearing a thin grey T-shirt that clings to his skin with a shoulder tattoo peeking out on one side and another tattoo on his opposite forearm.

I watch as he paces across the lobby with a phone to his ear, clearly uncomfortable and speaking in a hushed voice with his back turned to the receptionist.

“Like, do I have to tell them I’m family or some shit?” he asks into his phone.

Oh, he’s visiting someone. He’s probably worried about being let in.

“I mean, I can’t exactly provide proof of that,” he continues.

I should help him.

I go over to him, reaching to tap him on the shoulder, but he turns around before I do. That was weird; he must have heard me coming. He looks quite surprised by my intrusion but smiles.

“You don’t need to be family,” I say. “And I wouldn’t bother talking to the receptionist anyway. She’s legitimately the worst.”

Fucking Janine. I swear that lady hates me.

I point to a cluster of signs and say, “Just follow the arrows to B Campus, and then the numbers leading up to your friend’s room.

That whole family thing is more of a bad TV medical drama rule and not actually an issue these days.

Besides, if you act like you have permission to be there, you could probably start a fire and no one would question it. ”

“Thanks,” he says with a small laugh.

“No problem,” I say. I walk over to the nearest chair and sit back down. His eyes seem to follow me as I walk away.

Yeah, sure Ava. The super hot guy is definitely staring at you because he’s interested and not because you just weirdly intruded on his conversation.

I catch the tail end of his sentence as he returns to his phone call. “…this girl was helping me find Kami’s room.”

At least he didn’t say ‘this weird girl wasn’t minding her own business.’

He looks irritated at the person on the other line and walks down the hall, mumbling in a harsh tone.

“Ava Reynolds?” a nurse calls.

“That’s me,” I say, walking to her.

“Okay, come with me. I’m going to get you started on your MRI prep.”

“Oh and I can take your paperwork,” she adds, gesturing toward my clipboard.

“Oh, uh… yeah,” I say, and reluctantly hand it over. I was planning on wussing out and changing some of my sarcastic answers but I guess I’m committed now. I just hope she’ll do me a favor and won’t read it right in front of me.

ZANE

Room 205… 206… There it is. 207.

I peek around the corner to see a battered figure laying in the hospital bed.

It’s Kami. Her long brown hair is still flawless as ever, despite her face and arms being covered in dirt and debris.

She’s holding onto a gaping wound in her abdomen that has soaked through a layer of gauze. Her hands are stained red with blood.

“Hey,” she says, with a bit of a groan.

“What the hell happened?” I ask.

“Long story involving a very bitchy Seer and a kheru knife. I’m fine, or at least I will be. That’s why you’re here.”

“Why did you come to the hospital instead of me in the first place?”

“Well, I was knocked unconscious and they brought me here by ambulance. I guess they tried to put an IV in me…”

“Shit. I imagine that went well…”

“They broke a fair amount of equipment before I regained consciousness. But it’s fine, I suggested they forget everything they had seen.”

That’s a relief. I’m not exactly prepared to answer the ‘why does this woman have magic skin’ question.

“Fuck that parking lot, man,” Kieran says as he steps into the room.

“You finally found a spot?” I ask.

“I made one,” he huffs. “If I didn’t see a soul in that parking lot for twenty minutes then it’s safe to say there’s not gonna be anyone there to give me a damn ticket.”

Kami rolls her eyes.

“Oh good,” she says. “You brought your pet.”

Kieran returns her eye roll and crosses his arms. “Nice to see you too, Kami.”

“Alright, let’s not start this again,” I say, stepping in between them.

“He’s an Incubus, Zane,” Kami says with irritation. “They’re demons. Bottom-feeders. He’s just leeching off your powers and you get nothing out of the deal.”

“Oh suck my cloven hooves,” Kieran spits.

“I’m seriously over this back and forth between you two,” I say. “Kami, we need to get you healed before you bleed out.”

“Aww,” Kieran says, “You haven’t done your little magical make-out session yet? So glad I could join for this.”

Kieran rolls his eyes and sits in the corner. Kami looks as though she’s about to go for Kieran’s jugular, so I seize the opportunity to grab her face and pull her in for a kiss.

It’s been a while since I’ve had to heal another Siren like this. The feeling is a combination of distant and familiar. I feel her lips warm and watch as the color returns to her golden-brown skin.

“How is it?” I ask, gesturing to the bandages on her wound.

“It was good for me,” Kieran interjects, suggestively raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

Kami shoots him a glare before standing up and inspecting her stomach. Her wound is no longer visible. She runs her hands carefully along her smooth abdomen.

“Yeah, I think we’re all good. Thanks, Z.”

“So,” Kieran asks, “are you all crazy in love with Zane now?”

“Siren venom only has that effect on humans.” Kami scoffs. “For other Sirens it just has the healing effect.”

“So what happened, anyway?” Kieran asks, looking at Kami. Kami is cleaning herself off at a nearby sink. The sink is gradually filling with blood-dyed water.

“I was chasing a bounty and ended up in the woods off Route 28. I ran into a Seer that I have a history with…”

“History?” I ask.

“I may have slept with her sister. I honestly don’t entirely remember; I just know that she’s hated me for the last 40 years or so. Anyway, apparently she was expecting me— Seer and all, go figure—and she greeted me with a kheru knife to the spleen.”

“Those can hurt a Siren?” Kieran asks.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs.

“Yes,” I say. “It can pierce a Siren’s skin. Works on most other Immortals too. Not demons, though.”

A nurse appears behind us with a concerned expression. She must have heard the tail end of our conversation.

I quickly grab the nurse’s wrist and she furrows her brow at the touch.

“There’s nobody here,” I say. The woman nods along. “You’re imagining things. Forget this conversation.”

The nurse pauses a moment, then seems to drift off before walking away.

Kami scoops up her coat and bag in a quick motion.

“Alright,” she says, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before we have to work over the whole staff.”