Page 8 of Siren Problems
“Yup,” she agrees. “And he’s terrified you’ll figure it out.”
I don’t answer.
I just stare at the cove and feel the ley current pulse under my feet like a heartbeat no one’s supposed to hear.
CHAPTER 4
CALDER
Idream of drowning.
Again.
Salt fills my lungs like molten stone. My body doesn’t sink—itfractures. The pressure of the deep pressing down, endless, ancient. Somewhere below, something sings. Not with words. Withwant. And I—gods, I answer.
My voice breaks the water like thunder.
Then I wake, sharp and choking, half-tangled in the sweat-damp sheets.
It’s still dark. But not silent.
There’s a pulse in the air—too soft for normal ears, too bright for anyone who isn’t me. I sit up, already knowing I’ve made a mistake. My throat’s dry, raw like I’ve been screaming.
Isang. Out loud. In my sleep.
And worse—someone heard it.
I feel her before I see her. Down near the shore, standing with her back to the moon, all shadows and wind-whipped hair. She’s motionless, like the rocks around her, except for the scanner in her hand that’s blinking like mad.
Luna.
Shit.
I don’t think. I’m down the stairs, bare feet slamming against the wood, storming out the side door before reason catches up. She doesn’t turn when I approach, but I know she heard me—every step, every breath. Her aura’s sparking all over the damn place, full of confusion, awe, and too much knowing.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I say, low and hard.
She flinches slightly but doesn’t move. “You were singing.”
I stop, just out of reach. “You imagined it.”
She turns then, slow and sharp, eyes glowing under the moon like she pulled the truth from its hiding place and isn’t giving it back.
“My scanner says otherwise.”
I glance at the thing in her hand, buzzing softly, little crystals lighting up like fireworks. Dammit.
“What did you hear?” I ask.
Luna folds her arms, chin tilting like she’s daring me to lie.
“It wasn’t a song,” she says. “It was... acall. Like the ocean answering itself. I’ve been recording ley pulses for weeks and I’ve never heard anything like that. And it came fromyou.”
Her voice isn’t accusatory. It’s curious. Too curious.
I shake my head, fists clenching. “You didn’t hear anything.”
“You’re scared,” she says softly.
