*SPOILER ALERT!* If you plan on reading Adagio, the first book in the Muse series, you may not want to read ahead and spoil the surprise.
It’s like the lead-up of a bad joke–a vampire, a siren, and a 200-year-old occult scientist pile into a Jeep…
The Jeep in question belonged to my ex-boyfriend. He’s not here, because he’s lying dead on the floor of an abandoned house on the west end of town. Oh, and he’s a giant bird. Said giant bird boyfriend kidnapped me, but was ultimately killed by the vampire who’s now driving his Jeep at ten miles under the speed limit.
There are three of us oozing down the highway in my dead boyfriend’s Jeep. First is me, and I have no earhtly clue how to define who I am, so let’s park that (no pun intended). Second is the vampire, Everest, who apparently ran all the way to New Hampshire from Newark, NJ in order to to save me from my bird-boyfriend. The third person in this Jeep, and the reason the vampire is driving like my great-great Aunt Phyllis at the moment, is Theo, a two hundred year-old Englishman who until a couple of days ago was a veterinarian named Mike. And Mike was my boyfriend. Let’s park that one too–at the far end of the lot.
Theo won’t stop yapping with Everest. It’s been a few decades since they last chatted, so I guess I shouldn’t mind if they twitter like Aunt Phyllis at bridge club. But what annoys me is that they’ve got three languages going, and just when I start to capture a word or two, they switch it up and leave me hanging. Is that Latin I hear now? Maybe. And I know there was some French tossed into the mix at one point too. Assholes.
It would be nice, though, to have a little more scoop–in English–regarding our next stop. All I know is that we’re supposed to meet up with a werewolf who will be serving as some sort of security detail, and this obviously scares the living shit out of me. Being that I have no earthly clue what to expect, let alone do or say in the company of an actual werewolf, I think it may be time to interrupt reunion central.
“So, how about a crash course on werewolves before we get there, eh?”
Mike / Theo looks backward at me with a coquettish little grin. “Hallo, love. I’d rather imagined you’d be sleeping, what with the drama of the morning. Besides, Roan and I must be quite boring to listen to. But certainly, with pleasure.” He pauses for a second, says “hmph” once or twice, and digs in.
“The werewolf dates back millennia. The species’ point of origin is believed to be a small region of the current Czech Republic, though my personal in-depth research suggests that the early werewolf migrated there … and, subsequently, here … from …”
“The short version please, Theo,” Everest grumbles. Maybe he’s tired of the chit-chatting now too.
“Yes, yes, fair enough. Let’s see. Werewolves live in communities–packs, of course–and prefer cooler climates due to the intense body heat that is part of their human and preternatural makeups. The northeastern U.S., to include Winter Rain, is a common area of choice, as is Canada, Scandinavia, and of course Alaska.”
Alaska. I remember everything Everest told me there … about werewolves, but about everything else too. All that we said. All that we didn’t say. And I can’t deny it–I’m in love with the vampire driving this Jeep. And I think … no, I don’t have to think … I know. He’s just as much in love with me. But I have to park all of that right now too; it’s entirely too much.
I clear my throat to push away the lump of emotion almost blocking my windpipe, and attempt to continue on in a normal voice. “And how do they relate to us?”
“Quite curious, really,” Theo offers. He looks over at Everest with a furrowed brow. “Egad, where do I start?” There was no reply–just the thump-thump of the tires on uneven road. Theo contemplates for a few more moments, runs his hand through his hair, and tries again.
“There is a faction of the supernatural community that seek … revolution, so to speak. Many are powerful creatures with stunning magical capability. The battle they have waged against the larger population of preternaturals has been long and extremely violent. The werewolf community have lost many in the bloodshed, suffice it to say. They are, as a a result, in unwavering support of those opposing this revolutionary faction. There is a great deal more to the history, but that is the ‘Cliff’s Notes’ version, if you will.”
It’s still too much to process. Just looking out the window is a constant reminder that everything is different now. I see colors, shapes, things that I could never have imagined even yesterday. I just saw an orange woman go past. An orange woman! Her skin was the same texture as mine, but the deep citrus color of a pomelo. This is my life now. This is how the world will always look to me. And once I have wrapped my brain around all of this, how do I tell Mills? How do I tell my best friend, who knows me so well, that I’m a siren? Where do I even begin? All of a sudden, a thought hits me like a lead weight.
“I have to see Mills. She must think I’ve disappeared from the face of the Earth. I have no phone. We need let her know I’m OK. Right now.” With as much of a smile as I can muster, I add, “Please.”
Mike grins again, more broadly this time. “Ah yes love, of course. I–rather, we,” he adds with a little nod to Everest, “commit that we will convey you with the utmost haste back to your Mills as soon as we have secured our temporary safety.”
“Screw that. Take me home now, Mike.” It must have been the tack sharp note in my tone that struck Everest’s ear, because he immediately clicks on his turn signal and pulls off to the shoulder of the road. Once the car is in park, he turns his body toward me.
“Elma, be reasonable.” Ever since I first saw his eyes in their true lavender color, I’ve been reluctant to look at him, because I melt in him. But now they shine directly on me in the constricted space of the car, their gaze open and unwavering. He can’t glamour a siren, but in a way, he always does glamour this one.
“Elma. Please,” he whispers.
“Everest,” I reply into the pools that see through every facet of me. As he looks, he must see that I’m not only feeling the responsibility to assure Mills that I’m safe, but I’m desperate to see her face, hold her, connect to some part of my life as it was before it all became unknown.
He smiles from the corners of his eyes, turns around and gets back on the highway. Twelve minutes later we’re back at my apartment.
Zaide Williams 