Page 36 of Bewitched By the Siren
Hali:Are you busy right now? I’d like to show you something.
Before I can respond, another text comes through. This one is from Julius, and my smile automatically drops into a frown.
Julius:Call me, now. I need an update.
Flipping back to my text thread with Hali, I shoot her a quick message to let her know I’ll be over in fifteen minutes. When she sends back a thumbs-up emoji, I let myself feel the anticipation of seeing her again for just a moment before sighing and pulling up Julius’ number and tapping the call button.
“What kind of progress have you made?” he demands by way of a greeting, and I stifle the grunt rattling around in my chest.
Polite, as ever.
“I’m getting closer to her,” I say, swallowing thickly against the bile rising up my throat with the admission.
There’s no way in hell I’d ever tell him about sleeping with her, but even hinting at it and suggesting it’s part of my job makes me ill. The sex certainly had nothing to do with Julius or my job. That was all about me simply wanting her.
“She signs nothing until I hear her, for myself,” he says, and I squeeze my eyes shut as I reply.
“I’ll get that recording for you on Friday,” I promise, nearly choking on the words.
“Be sure you do, or you’ll be paying back all your travel expenses when you get back here.”
I roll my eyes as he ends the call just as abruptly as he began it. That bit about repaying travel expenses is a common threat he likes to use with all of his employees. No one has ever fell victim to it, because no one has failed Julius on something this important.
I might be the first.
Recording Hali singing without her permission feels like betrayal, no matter how you look at it. And now that we’ve gotten closer, I don’t know if I can do it. Hell, I don’t know if I even want to try.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, I head outside where Hali is already waiting with a bright smile and two beach cruisers.The bikes are identical––both pink and white with large baskets attached to the handlebars.
“What’s this?” I ask, my lips curling up to match hers.
“I thought we could ride to the spot I want to show you. Mom said you can borrow hers,” she replies, her smile twisting into a smirk.
“Be sure to thank her for me,” I say, taking the bike from her and throwing my leg over the frame to straddle it without complaint.
Hali chuckles and straddles her own bike, and I follow when she takes off in the direction of town. I ride next to her, following her directions as we take a roundabout route through town. The sun, the salty breeze, and the sound of Hali’s sweet voice as she describes the sights all leave me feeling light as air as we peddle, and before I know it, we’re on the opposite side of the island.
A long stretch of sandy beach spreads out before us, the only structure present an old-fashioned lighthouse with peeling white paint. A rocky cliff closes off one side of the beach, and the other side is barricaded by a long, rocky jetty.
We climb off our bikes and lay them down in the sand, and I follow Hali as she walks toward the building.
“This is Mermaid Beach, and that’s the Circe Key Lighthouse,” she says, pointing toward our destination.
“Mermaid Beach?” I ask with a grin. “Have you actually seen any mermaids swimming around here?”
I’m joking, of course, but Hali’s expression twists into one I don’t recognize for an instant before smoothing out. She pulls open the door of the lighthouse, then takes my hand and pulls me inside as she talks.
“There’s a documented history of mermaid sightings around here, actually,” she says as we head up the spiral staircase. “Sailors have long claimed to have heard a beautiful singing, a song so sweet they had no choice but to follow it. Too manyships had crashed into the rocks on this side of the island, so the residents built this lighthouse to signal the sailors, leading them to a safe harbor and breaking the power of the sirens’ song.”
“What would the sirens get out of killing the sailors?” I ask when we reach the top and look out over the vast ocean.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe they just hate humans.”
“Or maybe they want to eat them,” I joke, but it falls flat when she doesn’t smile, her expression turning melancholy. I turn toward her. “Hey. Are you okay?”
She seems to snap out of her sudden funk, giving me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she answers, “Of course, I am. Do you want to go walk on the beach? People find all kinds of shells and sea glass down there.”
“Sure,” I say, searching her eyes but finding no answers in their green depths.
