Siren by Tricia Rayburn Page B
Authors: Tricia Rayburn
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, People & Places, Family, Horror, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction, Maine, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, supernatural, Horror & Ghost Stories, Siblings, Visionary & Metaphysical, Sisters, Ghost Stories (Young Adult), Family - Siblings, Sirens (Mythology)
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the hallway. "I would kill for my own space every now and then. Want to trade?"
I laughed, but the funny thing was, even if the trade included Zara, I kind of did.
I followed her down a long hallway lit by two small crystal
109
chandeliers. "Are you sure I shouldn't wait downstairs?" I asked when we stopped in front of a closed door. "Your sister doesn't seem to like me that much."
"Z doesn't like anyone that much." Paige smiled reassuringly and pounded on the door with her fist. "You should hear her talk about Jonathan."
She banged again before I could ask who Jonathan was. I pressed one hand to my forehead when music playing on the other side of the door grew louder. It sounded like jazz, but with drums and a fast, throbbing beat.
"I'm not going anywhere, Z," Paige yelled. She pounded again, and the pain reverberated between my ears each time her fist connected with the door.
She started knocking and bobbing her head in time to the music. This went on for at least a minute, and I turned away and stood by a tall window, massaging my temples as I watched the rain fall in one heavy gray sheet into the ocean far below. My head started to spin and, feeling like I might pass out, I turned back to Paige to excuse myself and wait in the car.
I was about to tap her shoulder when the jazz stopped and the door flung open. As soon as Zara saw me, her eyes flashed surprise, then confusion, then anger.
"Not feeling well, huh?" Paige asked.
It was a legitimate question. I'd seen Zara only at Betty's, so had only seen her in khaki shorts, a black T-shirt, and an apron. The standard uniform was a far cry from her current ensemble: a tight black skirt that ended about six inches higher than the
110
khaki shorts, a fitted black strapless shirt, and sparkly stiletto sandals. Her hair, which I'd only seen in a long ponytail, hung perfectly straight down her back, and her makeup made her silver eyes shine like Christmas ornaments.
"If you're having trouble breathing, you may want to let out a few stitches," Paige suggested, eyeing Zara's bulging top.
"And unless you want to never breathe again, you'll tell your little friend to leave." Zara's voice was calm.
Paige nodded. "Okay, then." She looked at me. "Meet you downstairs?"
I was grateful for the out and started down the hallway before Paige had even closed the door behind her. I hoped whatever issues they had could be worked out quickly, because I now wanted nothing more than to make it out of there before the winding roads leading down the mountain and back to town flooded.
Vanessa ...
I quickened my step.
My dear, sweet, Nessa ...
Justine was outside my head again, calling to me from the crystal chandeliers above, the pictures lining the walls, the rug beneath my feet.
You've come so far.... Please don't go... .
I walked faster, shaking my head sharply against wailing sirens and flashing red lights, purple and yellow bruises, and Justine standing in the water, her skeletal arms reaching for me.
I had one foot on the first step leading downstairs when the house fell silent. I stopped and held my breath. Nothing. No
111
funky jazz. No shouting from the end of the hallway. Not even the rain pounding the roof overhead.
"Vanessa?"
In the mirror hanging on the wall across from me, my eyes widened and my face went white. The voice didn't belong to Paige or Zara. And there was no one behind me. The hallway was empty.
"You've lost it," I said to my reflection before starting downstairs. "Officially."
"Vanessa?" the voice asked again.
I froze, my heart hammering in my ears.
"Is that you ...?"
It was coming from the opposite end of the hallway, nowhere near Zara's room. I stared at the landing at the base of the stairs and willed my feet to move.
And they did move, finally--upstairs and down the hallway.
My pulse threatened to break through veins, and my fingers and toes tingled. My timid inner voice warned me, begged me to turn around and get out of there. But I
I laughed, but the funny thing was, even if the trade included Zara, I kind of did.
I followed her down a long hallway lit by two small crystal
109
chandeliers. "Are you sure I shouldn't wait downstairs?" I asked when we stopped in front of a closed door. "Your sister doesn't seem to like me that much."
"Z doesn't like anyone that much." Paige smiled reassuringly and pounded on the door with her fist. "You should hear her talk about Jonathan."
She banged again before I could ask who Jonathan was. I pressed one hand to my forehead when music playing on the other side of the door grew louder. It sounded like jazz, but with drums and a fast, throbbing beat.
"I'm not going anywhere, Z," Paige yelled. She pounded again, and the pain reverberated between my ears each time her fist connected with the door.
She started knocking and bobbing her head in time to the music. This went on for at least a minute, and I turned away and stood by a tall window, massaging my temples as I watched the rain fall in one heavy gray sheet into the ocean far below. My head started to spin and, feeling like I might pass out, I turned back to Paige to excuse myself and wait in the car.
I was about to tap her shoulder when the jazz stopped and the door flung open. As soon as Zara saw me, her eyes flashed surprise, then confusion, then anger.
"Not feeling well, huh?" Paige asked.
It was a legitimate question. I'd seen Zara only at Betty's, so had only seen her in khaki shorts, a black T-shirt, and an apron. The standard uniform was a far cry from her current ensemble: a tight black skirt that ended about six inches higher than the
110
khaki shorts, a fitted black strapless shirt, and sparkly stiletto sandals. Her hair, which I'd only seen in a long ponytail, hung perfectly straight down her back, and her makeup made her silver eyes shine like Christmas ornaments.
"If you're having trouble breathing, you may want to let out a few stitches," Paige suggested, eyeing Zara's bulging top.
"And unless you want to never breathe again, you'll tell your little friend to leave." Zara's voice was calm.
Paige nodded. "Okay, then." She looked at me. "Meet you downstairs?"
I was grateful for the out and started down the hallway before Paige had even closed the door behind her. I hoped whatever issues they had could be worked out quickly, because I now wanted nothing more than to make it out of there before the winding roads leading down the mountain and back to town flooded.
Vanessa ...
I quickened my step.
My dear, sweet, Nessa ...
Justine was outside my head again, calling to me from the crystal chandeliers above, the pictures lining the walls, the rug beneath my feet.
You've come so far.... Please don't go... .
I walked faster, shaking my head sharply against wailing sirens and flashing red lights, purple and yellow bruises, and Justine standing in the water, her skeletal arms reaching for me.
I had one foot on the first step leading downstairs when the house fell silent. I stopped and held my breath. Nothing. No
111
funky jazz. No shouting from the end of the hallway. Not even the rain pounding the roof overhead.
"Vanessa?"
In the mirror hanging on the wall across from me, my eyes widened and my face went white. The voice didn't belong to Paige or Zara. And there was no one behind me. The hallway was empty.
"You've lost it," I said to my reflection before starting downstairs. "Officially."
"Vanessa?" the voice asked again.
I froze, my heart hammering in my ears.
"Is that you ...?"
It was coming from the opposite end of the hallway, nowhere near Zara's room. I stared at the landing at the base of the stairs and willed my feet to move.
And they did move, finally--upstairs and down the hallway.
My pulse threatened to break through veins, and my fingers and toes tingled. My timid inner voice warned me, begged me to turn around and get out of there. But I
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