Page 4 of Siren Problems
I grit my teeth and step forward.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She jumps and nearly loses her balance. For a blink, my heart kicks into my throat. Reflex makes me lunge forward, hand out. But she catches herself, turns, and glares up at me like I’m the intruder here.
“I could ask you the same thing, Moby Dick.”
Stars, she doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t flinch. Just shoves a piece of hair out of her face with the back of her hand and keeps right on talking like we’re mid-argument in some sitcom.
“This isn’t a game,” I growl, closing the distance between us. “You’re too close.”
“To what? The glow stick party under the sea?”
I point at her device, which is now blinking angry red like a bomb about to blow. “Back off. Now.”
The box lets out a sharpbweep, like it agrees with me. She freezes, eyes widening.
“Too late,” she whispers.
The ley surge hits like a sucker punch. It doesn’t explode so much ascollapse inward, a vacuum of energy that rips through the air. The ocean shudders. The rocks underfoot vibrate like a war drum. Her legs buckle.
I catch her without thinking—one hand around her arm, the other braced against her spine. Her body is hot against mine, thrumming with adrenaline and defiance. She smells like citrus and old spellbooks and sea air.
“You trying to get yourself killed?” I snap.
“I was researching.” She struggles in my grip, eyes blazing. “It’s called science. You should try it sometime.”
“This place is dangerous.”
“Then maybe put up a sign next time, Aquaman.”
There’s a spark of something under her sarcasm. Fear, maybe. Or worse—curiosity. That kind of curiosity gets people buried.
I push her back a step and let go.
Her scanner fizzles out in a puff of smoke, crystal core cracked. Good. Maybe now she’ll take a damn hint.
I turn without another word and head back toward the path, shoulders tight, jaw locked.
The ley line quiets behind me, but the air hasn’t settled. Not really.
Back at the house, the porch lights are off, but Kai’s still lounging out front on a woven hammock she definitely enchanted to repel mosquitoes. She’s sipping a cocktail that glows faintly purple and has a piece of candied ginger floating in it. She doesn’t even look up when I climb the steps.
“Look who washed back up,” she says. “Did the hot scientist fry your cove?”
“She nearly destabilized the ley web. Again.”
Kai shrugs, eyes closed. “Yeah, but she’s cute. Makes up for it.”
I grunt, pushing past her to the front door.
“She called me Aquaman,” I mutter.
Kai snorts into her drink. “Gods, marry her.”
I don’t dignify that with a response.
The house is quiet inside, save for the low hum of magical tech pulsing from the downstairs office. Her scanner’s dead, but I hear her shuffling around down there, probably running diagnostics. Or muttering insults about me into her audio log.
