This picture my own - others from Google Free to use images
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
The doorman and the other employee, (the one that opened the door), a beautiful and elegant part-human of indeterminate sex, left without a sound. When the door had clicked behind them and the sounds of the noisy nightclub were shut out by the sound-proofing, without invite, Celtica sat in one of the elegant chairs. She crossed her legs and Maclaren watched her like a hawk - or like a vampire, which was way more intense than a hawk’s stare.
“You’ve got a problem, Maclaren,” Celtica said. She paused long enough for him to wonder what other problem he had before she continued. “The female vampire that was in on your plans to have me disposed of has dropped you right in it. By all accounts, it was all your idea.”
“No, that’s not how it went.” Maclaren seemed calm to Celtica but that didn’t mean anything, all vampires could shut out their emotions far easier than any other species.
“No? The conversation I had went something like this, ‘Who sent you?’ and the answer that was almost spat at me was ‘Maclaren’ and I kinda believed him because he was negotiating for his life.”
She could see the venom in his mind as he realised that the female vampire had glamoured the real answer out of the hit man and replaced it with the alternative answer, his name.
Celtica interrupted the inner conversation he seemed to be having with himself. “I realised that it wasn’t really you that sent them. That’s why I’m here now and it’s also why I promised not to harm you. I want the name of the vampire that did send those two…”
“Two?” Maclaren interrupted her. “I only knew about one. What did they look like?”
“One was human, high on narcotics but the other one wasn’t full human and he wouldn’t tell me what mixture he was, I only know that he was some kind of mongrel.”
When Maclaren realised that Celtica knew about the mongrel situation, he knew that he was in deeper than he had first thought.
“Look, Miss Diamond, I don’t know what you are, it’s now clear to me that you’re some kind of preterdeviant too, if you know about the mongrels and all, but I genuinely only thought that you were some sort of human private investigator, poking around in vampire business for Gideon Grey. If I had known that you weren’t human, I would have…”
“You’d have what? Sent me flowers? Come to my office to tell me everything you knew or sent someone other than a smack-riddled human to do your assassination for you? Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s a dog eat dog world out there, which is why I’ve kept my head down all this time, but now that you know I’m preterdeviant too, what’s to stop you sending some other, more powerful assassin after me, like the vampires, earlier this evening.”
Celtica saw the surprise on his face and knew that she’d played this one dead on the money. He didn’t know about the two vampires that had been sent after her when the human and mongrel had failed. All she needed now was the name of the female vampire.
She waited for him to think.
“What do you need from me?”
“A name.”
“That’s all?”
Celtica nodded.
He thought some more. “I can’t really give you her name, she’s more powerful than I am, older and better connected.” He flinched as Celtica snarled. His hands came up in a placatory gesture and he reminded her, “You promised not to hurt me!”
“Yeah, I did.” Celtica calmed immediately and continued in a friendly tone. “You haven’t asked me what kind of preterdeviant I am.”
“No, I haven’t. I believe that you’re one of a kind though.”
Celtica smiled and nodded that he was right.
“So, what are you?” He was cautious and tentative but he was also really curious.
“Remember your ancient Roman and Greek history? Well, the beautiful women that lured sailors to wreck their ships on rocks, they were called Syrens, remember that?”
“Ye-es…” Maclaren was cautious as to where the conversation was turning. He could see something on the horizon and closing in fast but he didn’t know exactly what it could be yet.
“I’m a Syren. I’m descended from those that sang the haunting songs that drove ancient sailors mad. Jason, when he took his Argonauts to find the golden fleece instructed that his men stuff their ears with wax so that they couldn’t hear the Syren’s song.
He wanted to hear us though and he had himself strapped to the mast so that he wouldn’t try to swim out to us.”
“Really? I thought that was ancient myth.”
“Just like vampires and werewolves?”
Maclaren laughed at her analogy. “Yes, but I still can’t give you the name you want.”
