Siren Queen(47)

When he saw that poison and pain would not move her, Oberlin Wolfe stood up straight, his face still except for the hate in his eyes. It made him look more like a man than passion had.

“All right, goat, you want him?”

Another pass of his hands and Greta fell under the weight. It wasn’t a snake in her arms now. Instead it was a naked man, but it wasn’t Brandt Hiller.

This boy was lanky and slightly unformed. His dirt-brown hair was shaggy around his ears, and there was a bloom of acne on his forehead and his shoulders. When he opened his mouth to cry out, he revealed crooked teeth, and he stuttered hard over her name. The eyes were the same, however, and for the first time, he looked utterly panicked.

“No,” he moaned. “No-no-no…”

Greta was so startled she nearly let him go, but as he tried to scramble away, she took a tighter grasp on him. This wasn’t a king-consort or an actor or anything like that, except it was, and he couldn’t bear it. Tears ran down his face, and he turned away from Greta, the panic and shame coming out in his sobbing apologies.

“Oh, you’re ridiculous!” Greta exploded. “Stop it!”

Brandt went still in her arms, and when she was sure he wasn’t going to try to scratch her eyes or run away, she wrapped him in the blanket we brought from the dorms. Greta looked up at Oberlin Wolfe.

“Your tricks are beneath me, your court is a lie, and your movies are terrible,” she said contemptuously, and for a moment, I genuinely thought the world was going to end. The thing that used Oberlin Wolfe as its face rumbled underneath us, and the man’s eyes went as dark as ink, no life and no mercy there.

“The tithe must still be paid,” Oberlin growled, and he reached down, not for Brandt, but for …

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Greta, staring up at Oberlin Wolfe and feeling like I was going to faint. I was somewhere behind myself again, above and behind and watching myself do this stupid, stupid thing.

Greta jumped a little when my arms were around her, but then I heard her delighted laugh. It was too joyous to belong to Halloween, but none of us did. She shifted to wrap an arm around me, Brandt to her left and me to her right. She cuddled us both as if we were kittens very dear to her, and Oberlin Wolfe mattered nothing to her, even if I was less confident.

I had no idea if I could hold her while Oberlin Wolfe turned her in my arms. I was stubborn, not strong, and I didn’t know if stubbornness was enough.

It’s been enough before, I heard Mrs. Wiley suggest, and I squared my shoulders and looked up at the king of Wolfe Studios.

Oberlin met my eyes, and hesitated. I don’t know if he could feel his control slipping or if time was running out, or something else.

He shouted two names I didn’t know, and a slender girl with a brush of flaming red hair stumbled out of the dark, followed by an older man dressed only in braces, trousers, and fine leather shoes. Their eyes were fixed on him, exalted, and I looked away. I heard them get into the car, heard the footsteps of the other riders leaving as well. The cars rumbled on their interrupted journey to Lot 19 and then we were alone.

I fell to my knees in relief, and the next thing I was aware of was Brandt apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he kept saying, and Greta finally made an impatient snorting noise.

“Come on, stop that, stand up,” she grumbled. She barely seemed to feel her wounds, for all that her dress was half tatters and soaked dark with blood.

Brandt stood up, wiping his eyes with one long hand. He wasn’t bad looking, but I could see that he wasn’t really Brandt Hiller, not anymore.

“Ah, good,” Greta said. “Stop crying. What is your name?”

He hesitated for a moment, searching that corner of the mind that we all knew so well. What he found almost made him cry again, but his voice only trembled a little when he answered her.

“Lawrence Herman.”

Greta hummed in consideration and then nodded.

“All right. Lawrence, you must stop crying because you are mine now.”

He looked at her, and the love and nearly helpless adoration gave him a strange kind of beauty.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“Ah, I do not know. I am very young, after all. But we shall find out.”





X


The sun came up over Wolfe Studios on November first. I hadn’t been sure it would. Greta and I sat on the balcony, Lawrence asleep in Greta’s bed. Oberlin Wolfe and the riders were still somewhere in the fires, fighting and fucking and dancing to forget whatever price Oberlin paid to keep all this going. November second would come, though, and there would be no tithe or audience to hold back Oberlin’s hand.

Greta held my hand gently in hers, watching the sky lighten with a peaceful look on her face. Her bandages were a fresh white, wounds already closed. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she had held me so close just as I held her, how strong she was and how soft. Would Emmaline hold me like that? I didn’t know.

“What happens now?” I wondered. I hadn’t expected her to answer, but she turned to me with a smile. “Something new, something strange,” she replied. “Good, eh?”

I wasn’t sure. Greta had never wanted this, but I still did. Return of the Siren was wrapping up, and Whalen Mannheim had told me there was another role for me after that, something he and his brother had been working up for a while. Oberlin Wolfe had a long memory, and it wasn’t like I could blend into the crowd of new actresses and work without notice in the studios. Elgin Aegis or John Everest might shelter me, but they were terrible themselves.