Sirensong f-3 Read online

  I hadn’t told anyone—not even Ethan—about the mark, and the last thing I wanted was for Kimber to see the mark while I was trying on clothes. I gnawed my lip with worry as Kimber and I stepped into the shop together with Finn bringing up the rear. There were a lot of things about my encounters with the Erlking that I’d failed to tell Kimber. In fact, I’d out-and-out lied about some of them. I was the worst best friend ever. But guilty as I felt about the deception, I just wasn’t ready to tell her the truth yet.

  The dressmaker’s shop was unlike anything I’d ever seen. The front of the shop was a cozy-looking sitting room with overstuffed blue velvet chairs and a side table with cups, an electric kettle, and about twelve million different varieties of tea. There were a handful of magazines on another side table, but otherwise the room was empty and not like a shop at all.

  “In the old days,” Kimber told me, “this is where the gentlemen would sit while waiting for their ladies.” She gave Finn a saucy look. “Are you a gentleman?”

  Finn is actually a really nice guy, even if he isn’t a big talker. But he’s a completely different person when he’s in bodyguard mode. He wears suits that would look just right on James Bond and wears Men in Black sunglasses even when it’s raining. And he rarely, if ever, cracks a smile.

  “I’ll wait here while you girls meet with the dressmaker,” he said, dead serious though he had to know Kimber was teasing him, “but I’m going to check out the back before I let you out of my sight.”

  Just then, the dressmaker herself emerged from the curtained doorway at the back of the shop. She was a drop-dead gorgeous Fae woman wearing a powder blue silk suit and killer heels. Both the suit and the shoes screamed haute couture, even to someone like me who generally wouldn’t know haute couture if it bit me on the nose.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, in what sounded suspiciously like a fake French accent. “I am Madame Françoise.”

  I blinked at her stupidly for a moment. There was no such thing as a French Fae. Not to mention that I could probably do a better fake French accent than “Madame Françoise” was doing.

  “Bonjour, Madame,” Kimber answered for me, then rattled off something quick and much more genuinely French-sounding. My foreign language was Spanish, so I had no idea what she was saying.

  Madame Françoise laughed lightly and said something in response, her accent still sounding phony as hell.

  “Show off,” I muttered to Kimber, who winked at me.

  “If you don’t mind,” Finn broke in before we were subjected to any more French, “I need to take a look around back before I allow the young ladies to proceed.”

  “Why, of course,” Madame Françoise said cheerfully, holding the curtain open and inviting him back with a sweep of her arm. “I will show you.”

  As soon as the curtain closed behind them, I turned to Kimber. “If her name is really Madame Françoise, then my name is Jack the Ripper. What gives?”

  “This shop has been here for at least three hundred years. There was a time when high society thought having a French dressmaker was a status symbol. Madame Françoise is hardly the only person to have faked being French to lure in clientele.”

  Sometimes, the Fae are just freaking weird. “Yeah, but no one would actually believe she’s French. And hello, it’s the twenty-first century. Who even goes to dressmakers anymore, much less cares if the dressmaker is French?”

  Kimber shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, some of the English women who took on French names were just as blatantly fake. And I suppose once she’d been talking like that for a century or so, it became habit.”

  Finn and Madame Françoise emerged from the back before I could come up with a witty response. Finn declared the shop safe, and then I was swept into the back with Kimber and Madame, and if it weren’t for Madame’s modern outfit and the electric lights, I might have thought I’d been swept back in time.

  It turned out Madame Françoise specialized in making clothes for Avalon Fae who were traveling to Faerie. Apparently, Prince Henry’s ridiculous outfit at the dinner was the height of “modern” fashion in Faerie, and there was nowhere else in the city you could buy appropriate attire.

  Madame sat me down at a table with Kimber and plonked a couple of heavy books down in front of us.

  “Zeez are pattern books,” Madame said, opening the first one to a line drawing of a woman wearing something that looked vaguely Victorian, with a long train running behind it and a hat that was about half again as tall as she was. Madame turned the page, displaying two more drawings, both of similarly ornate dresses. “Look through. Tell Madame what you like.”

  Kimber drew the book to her and began flipping through, not at all fazed at the idea of me wearing one of those ridiculous dresses. Madame smiled approvingly, then moved away, giving us time to look without hovering over our shoulders.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said, keeping my voice down so Madame wouldn’t hear. “I’m not wearing a freaking bridal gown!”

  “I like this one,” Kimber said, pointing at a frilly monstrosity, “and it won’t be white like a bridal gown. One does not wear all white to Court unless one is royalty.”

  “I don’t care about the color,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Kimber shrugged. “This is what a court dress looks like.” She flipped a couple more pages. “What about this one?” she asked, pointing at a dress that was mercifully free of feathers or ruffles, but just as ornate, with short puffed sleeves, tons of lace, and yet another incredibly long train.

  “I’ll look like I’m trying out for a part in The Tudors,” I grumped. “And do not tell me I have to wear a corset, because all those dresses sure look like the kind that have corsets under them.”

  Kimber let out a huff of irritation. “You’d never get a part in The Tudors wearing one of these—they’re more Regency and Victorian style. That’s later than the Tudors, in case you don’t know.”

  I glared at her. Kimber’s an intellectual prodigy—she’s only seventeen, but she was going to be a sophomore in college in the fall. Her specialty is math and science, but I guess she actually paid attention in history class, too.

  “I think this would be perfect for you, as long as we choose the right colors,” she continued, ignoring my death glare.

  I looked more closely at the drawing. “It has a freaking bow at the back.” I could see Kimber wearing something like that and being totally stunning. Me, I’d just look silly.

  “We can ask Madame to skip the bow,” Kimber said. “And I’m sure she can alter the design enough so it fits without a corset.”

  I sighed, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. “What about the train? Can we lose the train?”

  Kimber shook her head. “Nope. That’s a requirement.” There was a sudden glint in her eyes. “In fact, you’ll need someone to help you with that train. I’m sure the Queen would be happy to lend you one of her ladies, but maybe you’d be better off bringing your own. Like, say, me.”

  There was a suspicious tightening in my chest as I looked at my best friend’s excited face. The idea of having a friend with me for the trip to Faerie made the prospect a lot less daunting. I wanted Kimber to come so badly I could taste it. And yet …

  “I don’t care what anybody says,” I said. “I think this trip is going to be dangerous, and I don’t want anyone else to be dragged down with me.” Of course, I knew better than to expect Kimber to give in.

  “If it’s going to be dangerous, then all the more reason to have friends at your side. Not that the prince’s entourage isn’t plenty of protection, but their main focus will be on protecting him.” She slung a companionable arm around my shoulders. “You need someone whose main focus is protecting you.”

  “My dad’ll be with me,” I reminded her. I hoped I was keeping a good poker face, because Kimber wasn’t exactly bodyguard material. She pretty much sucks at magic, which is usually a Fae’s primary weapon. I’d seen her kill a Spriggan with a knife, so sh
e wasn’t completely incapable of defending herself, but I surely wouldn’t drag her into Faerie as some kind of protection for myself.

  Kimber nodded. “Your dad, and probably Finn, too. But having a couple of extras couldn’t hurt.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “A couple of extras?”

  “Well, if I go, you know Ethan’s going to want to go, too. And Ethan generally gets what he wants.”

  There was a touch of jealousy in Kimber’s voice. She loved her brother, but there was some serious sibling rivalry between them. Ethan is a magical whiz-kid, and magic trumps brains in the Fae hierarchy, so Kimber always felt like second best.

  I didn’t know how I felt about Ethan coming with us. Yeah, he was sort of my boyfriend, but our relationship was so complicated … You see, Ethan had been captured by the Wild Hunt, and I’d been determined to save him. I made a devil’s bargain with the Erlking, and now I had to live with it. The Erlking had offered to release Ethan if I promised to give him my virginity.

  I’d known from the moment the Erlking made the offer that there was something more to it than just a desire to get me into bed. However, making the promise—enforced by magic—was the only way I could save Ethan, and the Erlking would let me pick the time to fulfill my promise. As a bonus, he would release Connor, my brother, if and when I ever did the deed. Later, I’d found out that the Erlking wanted my virginity because he had the secret ability to steal power from virgins. If I ever slept with him, he’d steal my powers as a Faeriewalker, and ride out into the mortal world on a killing spree. Obviously, I couldn’t let that happen, which meant I couldn’t give him my virginity. But if I slept with anyone else, Ethan would be drawn back into the Wild Hunt.

  So I’m doomed to die a virgin, and no matter how much Ethan tells me he doesn’t care that I can never put out, I have trouble believing him. I couldn’t find it in myself to say no when he asked me out, and I wanted to be with him so badly it hurt, but always in the back of my mind, I was searching for signs that he was getting restless. Which doesn’t make for a very comfortable relationship at all.

  I frowned as I thought about Ethan and Kimber coming with me to Faerie. “Would you two even be allowed to come with me to the Seelie Court?” Ethan and Kimber were Unseelie, and usually the two didn’t mix well.

  “I don’t see why not,” she answered. “Our Courts are not at war. We might not be received with the same enthusiasm you are, but it’s not like we’re not allowed to travel in Seelie territory.”

  So much for that objection. “What about your dad? Would he let you put yourself in that kind of danger?”

  Kimber put on a wan smile. “For the chance to help you? In a heartbeat.”

  I looked away, hating the reminder that both my dad and Kimber and Ethan’s dad, Alistair, considered me a pawn in their political chess game. Alistair would do anything possible to encourage my relationships with his children, and if they could win my gratitude by helping me, that was even better in his book. I guess he hoped that if I was grateful enough to his kids, I’d be willing to support him if he became Consul.

  Kimber sighed. “Sorry. That came out wrong. He wouldn’t send us with you if we didn’t want to go. And remember, theoretically at least, there’s no reason you or anyone with you should be in danger during this trip.”

  I wished I could believe that. “All right. If you guys can convince my dad and yours to let you come along, you can come.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Kimber said with a droll look. “Your enthusiasm’s overwhelming.”

  I opened my mouth to protest that it wasn’t lack of enthusiasm, it was fear for their safety, but Kimber didn’t give me a chance.

  “Now, let’s show Madame the dress you’ve chosen and we can start picking fabrics.”

  I would have argued that I hadn’t actually chosen anything, but Kimber was already waving Madame over.

  * * *

  In the end, we spent almost three hours at the dressmaker’s shop. If I never see a bolt of cloth again it’ll be too soon. Kimber, of course, loved every minute of it. I tried my best to keep the dress as simple as possible, but Kimber would have none of it and Madame always agreed with her. Two against one just wasn’t fair!

  The bodice was going to be white silk with gold embroidery, with a red taffeta train about a mile long. The train, too, would be decorated with gold embroidery. I absolutely put my foot down about the big gold bow they wanted to put at the back. The dress was outrageously girly and froufrou enough already. Kimber and Madame finally backed down, but I put the odds at about fifty/fifty that when the dress was ready, there’d be a honkin’ shiny bow on it after all.

  There was an uncomfortable moment when Madame wanted me to undress so she could take precise measurements. To keep from having to reveal the Erlking’s mark, I pretended to be painfully modest, stammering and looking pathetic. Madame took pity on me and agreed the fit would be close enough if I kept my clothes on while she measured.

  I couldn’t imagine how Madame could create a dress that ornate in time, but she didn’t seem concerned, and I suspected there’d be copious amounts of magic involved. I didn’t even want to think about how much the dress was going to cost. When I’d lived with my mom, we’d always had to pinch pennies, because alcoholics aren’t the best at getting and holding high-paying jobs. But my dad was loaded, and he’d arranged for Madame to put everything on his tab with no spending limit. Too bad the dress wasn’t for Kimber—she’d have appreciated it a lot more than I did.

  Kimber wanted to do some more shopping afterward, telling me I needed a fancier wardrobe to travel in Faerie. Only for the presentation at Court—the ceremony during which I would be formally introduced to the Queen—would I need to dress like a native, but Kimber was certain I wanted a whole new wardrobe, just because hey, what girl wouldn’t?

  I was saved from the ordeal of being bullied by my personal fashion consultant when my cell phone rang. Unfortunately, an even bigger ordeal was in store for me: my mother had just found out I was going to Faerie.

  Chapter Three

  When my mom had come to Avalon looking for me, my dad had tricked her into handing over custody of me. (Tricked her because she’d been too drunk at the time to pay attention to the papers she was signing. Yep, she was a paragon of parental responsibility all right.)

  Aside from losing legal custody of me, she’d also been declared legally incompetent, which involved my dad using either his influence or his money to manipulate the courts of Avalon into giving him what he wanted. That meant she was also in my dad’s custody. To make me happy, Dad had promised that as long as she was in his custody—living in something resembling house arrest—he would make sure she had no access to alcohol. The weeks I’d been in Avalon were by far the longest stretch of time my mom had been sober in my memory.

  The phone call I’d gotten was from my dad. He’d broken the news to my mom that we were leaving for Faerie the day after tomorrow, and she’d gone ballistic. There was a hint of what sounded like desperation in his voice when he asked me to come over and talk to her. Unlike me, he didn’t have sixteen years of experience dealing with her fits of hysteria, and I could tell he was in completely over his head.

  Strange how I could move all the way to Avalon, find out I was a Faeriewalker, have people trying to kill me, and yet some parts of my life remained exactly the same. I’d hoped that once my mom stopped drinking, she’d also stop being a drama queen, but that was obviously asking too much. It also occurred to me, as Finn and I hurried through the streets of Avalon to my dad’s house, that with both me and my dad going off to Avalon, my mom’s house arrest was about to come to an end.

  The thought made my stomach tie itself in knots. No house arrest meant no way to stop her from drinking. No way to stop her from drinking meant that when I came back from Faerie (assuming, of course, that I made it out alive), Mom the Drunk would be here waiting for me.

  Once upon a time, I’d let myself believe that if she would just sober
up for a little while, my mom would come to her senses and decide she was staying off the booze forever. Dad tried to explain to me that we couldn’t cure her alcoholism by force, but I hadn’t wanted to believe him. The fact that she still wouldn’t admit she had a drinking problem made my dad’s point of view more convincing.

  My head wasn’t in a good place when I arrived at my dad’s house, and I wanted to talk to my mom about as much as I wanted to stick my head in the toilet. I’d halfway decided to tell my dad to just deal with it, but when he opened the door and I saw the glassy look in his eyes, I swallowed my words. I didn’t like it, but I was far better equipped to handle my mom than he was.

  “She’s in her room,” my dad said as he led the way up the spiral staircase from the garage to the first floor, which was where his living room, kitchen, and dining room were located.

  As soon as I set foot in the living room, I smelled the distinctive scent of tea in the air, although I saw no sign of any mugs. Then I saw the dark, wet stain against the wall beside the plasma TV.

  “Let me guess,” I said with a sigh, “she threw her tea at you?”

  Dad crossed his arms and nodded. “I’ve never seen her like this before.” He looked completely mystified, and if I weren’t caught in the middle of the mess, I might have found it amusing.

  “I have,” I grumbled. I looked back and forth between Dad and Finn. “You guys stay down here no matter what, okay? She’s not going to throw deadly weapons at me, but you’re a different story.”

  Finn was giving me a look of pity I could have done without, but I think Dad was just glad he didn’t have to face Mom again in the near future. With a sigh of resignation, I trudged to the door to the stairway and climbed to the third floor.