My Immortal Playlist (The Siren Collection #1) (4 page)

BOOK: My Immortal Playlist (The Siren Collection #1)
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“And I wanted to change too,” I whispered back. “This shirt reveals way too much cleavage.”

“He wants your neck, Alexandria,” Elliot assured me. “And if it makes you feel any better, you have breasts the size of pimples. Small, meaningless and just as annoying to behold.”

“Such a gentleman,” I said through grit teeth as I reached into a lamp table and pulled out a small pistol. I handed
Elliot the gun and made my way to the basement door. If Noah was going to attack me, it was better off in Elliot’s hands. I was a terrible shot and besides, no one would suspect a back pack to open fire on them.

I crept down the stairs slowly, wincing at every painful creak that echoed off the walls. Whoever was below stopped rummaging thro
ugh my stuff and scurried further away from where I approached. I gulped and continued down.

As I got to the bottom, my feet stepping on crushed glass, I saw a shadow move to m
y left. I didn’t hesitate. I spun around just as the shadow stepped into view and Elliot fired immediately.

“Ow,” I heard
the intruder mutter as I swiveled back around to see my ex best friend.

Henry.

“Henry, what are you doing down here?” I snapped as he inspected the bullet hole in his left shoulder.

“Why did you order your dog to shoot me?”

“Dogs bite,” Elliot yelled from behind me. “People shoot. Geez, read a book for heaven’s sake.”

“Sorry, I’m not as cultured as you. Didn’t have a library in the middle of my house.”

“I was as poor as you before I came into my money, cretin. Why don’t you fact check your comments before you spout off at the mouth? You’re worse than a politician.”

“Whatever,” Henry snapped. “You didn’t have to shoot me.”

“I was having a bad day. It helped me feel better. Alexandria, turn me around so I can finish this magazine. Each bullet is just laced with happiness.”

“Shut up you two!” I yelled. “The fact is no one’
s supposed to be down here! What are you doing here, Henry?!”

“You invited me here.”

“Yeah, tonight. Not in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I don’t really have a concept of time anymore since I don’t sleep. So I decided to come over early. I waited around, got bored, and here we are. Decided to check out ground zero. You know, pay my respects.”

I swallowed my guilt and glanced around the room through watery eyes. I couldn’t imagine what he must have been feeling, being back in this place for the first time since the incident. I hadn’t changed a thing, keeping it intact for my next inevitable victim.

There were three rooms in the basement. The first was the typical scenario. Insulation falling out of an unfinished ceiling. Floor boards showing. Cold, concrete floor and cobwebs.

The second room was far off to the left. This was where I prepped my victims, and it was actually the nicest of the three. Cozy, comfortable, romantic. A couch that folded out into a bed. Plush carpet. It had a dimmer switch and a large flat-screen TV with all the trimmings. Movies and video games. Sodas and snacks that would make any boy feel right at home…

I would make them drowsy
…usually through the drugs in their drinks, and then I would quickly head off to the third room where the real contents lay.

A hundred sheets of unburnable, unalterable paper – containing mysterious, ancient songs.

Composed of ingredients and materials I couldn’t even begin to recognize or understand, I would quickly grab one, run over to my victim before he slept, and begin singing. Already drugged, they never had the strength to fight back.

I had no clue what damage each song would eventually cause to the listener. There
weren’t any books or instruction manuals to guide me. There were only the lyrics, what they did…and why they were essential to my survival.

I had to sing…or die.

“How many of us are out there?” he asked suddenly.

“Henry,” I said, taking a deep breath
and ignoring his question. “You were never supposed to be down here.”

“No,” he growled. “No I wasn’t. Never. But I was, and I became this…this thing. But you know what? It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Only murderers repeat themselves,” Elliot muttered.

“And how did you get rich?” Henry spat back. I stepped forward and put a hand to Henry’s chest. It was a dirty trick, but one that never failed. Touch was without question, Henry’s weakness.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered to him. He gulped and studied my face. My lips, my hair, my eyes, my lips again…

“I could be persuaded,” he said flatly.

“Ugh,” Elliot replied. “
He’s
the dog.”

Henry snapped back to attention and pushed me backwards.

“Just tell me!” he shouted. “Tell me how many of us are out there!”

“There are eight,” I said slowly. “All of you
are different.”

“Then why am I zombie with this pompous mama’s boy?”

“That insult didn’t even make sense,” Elliot said.

“Alex!” Henry shouted, shaking me out of my stupor.

“You are both zombies,” I confirmed, “but different in make-up. I don’t have a book to tell me the details…it’s kind of hard to explain but…each of those songs in there – I have no clue what any of them do. But when I sing one, it’s like I’m instantly given the knowledge of their purpose. Not the specifics of what the lyrics are saying, but what they do to the user. I guess it’s to help me make an informed decision in the end. I don’t know.”

“So answer my question,” Henry said. “How are we zombies, but different?”

“Elliot has issues with decomposition,” I declared truthfully. “Trouble keeping himself whole. That is his curse. While you - you have the hunger. I didn’t want to believe that was true for either of you but it’s what my mind keeps telling me.”

“What your mind keeps telling you,” Henry scoffed as he shrugged his shoulders and began walking past me. “I’m leaving.”

“What? No! Wait!”

“Don’t worry,” he called back as he began climbing the steps. “I didn’t take anything.”

“No! I need you for –“

The door slammed shut and I was left alone in silence.
Elliot broke the stillness after a minute, clearing his throat and raising his hands to stare at them.

“It makes sense,” he said. “And I can understand Henry’s passionate exit despite my reluctance to say it…the more we learn about what made us…the mo
re everything seems so hopeless.”

“It’s not,” I said assuredly. “We’ll find a
nother cure, I swear. I’ll unravel the mystery.”

“Sure,” he stated before reaching back and unhooking his straps.
Elliot fell to the floor in a slump and then he immediately rose to his elbows and began crawling away from me.

“Where are you going?” I
asked as he awkwardly climbed the stairs.

“To think,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I need some time alone.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, standing perfectly still. “I understand.”

It was only when he made it to the top of the stairs that he realized that the door was fastene
d shut. I didn’t even speak to him. I just walked up, opened the door for him and closed it behind me. I decided to stay in the basement for a little while. I owed it to them to give them their space. And besides, I did need to get moving on figuring out a cure. Perhaps there was a secret compartment in the walls containing more information. It wasn’t impossible.

I
started heading toward the Lyric Room when I suddenly heard the television turn on, the white static noise blaring loudly throughout the entire basement. I froze and strained my ears, trying to hear anything through it but it was no use. With my heart about to punch through my chest, I stepped forward slowly, placing each foot in front of the other cautiously. It was then I remembered that Elliot had taken the gun with him. Great.

The door to the Prep Room was slightly ajar and I could see the television on from a distance. Still, I was getting more afraid by the second and my head was beginning to ache with the loud, static noise. I swallowed my fear and rushed forward, slamming open the door and facing the culprit, but no one was there.

I turned off the television quickly and stood up, taking deep breaths to calm my nerves. When I finally slowed my breathing and my heart stopped racing, falling back to a resting pulse, I sighed.

And then something lightly kissed the back of my neck.

My entire body flushed instantly as I jumped forward, fighting off the fog that sought to cloud my senses. I turned around, and in the doorway he stood.

He was tall, his head nearly brushing the door’s frame. His dark hair was long and beautiful, so th
in, it was as if each strand blended with the wind. His lips were a fleshy pink. His face was rigid and strong, housing the body’s most powerful weapon: the eyes. They were sensual and inviting, nearly hypnotizing me with its elegant, emerald green. He was muscular but right on the edge of too much. He oozed, he dripped with seduction and I would be lying if flashes of us together didn’t barrel through the recesses of my mind. No, he wasn’t scary in form. What scared me was the pull he had over me.

And the fact
that he knew it.

He couldn’t read my thoughts. But somehow he knew I was his.

I hadn’t seen him in over a year, not since the night he turned into a stalker of the night.

And yet, his hold had never waned. His hypnosis hadn’t weakened.

Dear god, I was his…

“Hello, Alexandria,” he said slowly, each syllable sending chills down my spine, into my pores and onto my skin. I shuddered and tried to slow my breathing all over again.

“Hello, Noah,” I whispered, my throat constricting and going painfully dry. Noah flashed that electrifying smile of his.

“Are you thirsty?” he said. His voice was so deep and alluring. It was like dark chocolate.

“I am,” I managed to say.

“I am too,” he said, but then he smiled and laughed slightly. “Don’t worry, not for that.”

He stepped over to me slowly and then sat down on the couch. He motioned for me to join him. I obeyed.

“I think about this couch every night,” he confessed. I just nodded like an idiot.

“Where have you been, Noah?” I heard myself asking, my throat painfully dry.

“Here and there. Traveling the world. Ever since I realized what I was, that I could fly…I just wanted to see everything.”

“And you did that in a year?”

“For the most part. Though, my thoughts were al
ways with you.”

He leaned forward
slowly until his lips brushed against mine. He let me taste his breath before he pulled away suddenly, staring off into a corner.

“Of course,” he continued. “I’m not stupid. I realized that you had to be the reason I turned into this.”

“Um,” I began to speak but he put a finger to my lips to shush me. I kissed it absent-mindedly. What was wrong with me?

“It’s okay. You don’t have to speak. I’ll just talk for a bit if that’s okay with you. Then I have a couple questions.”

“Whatever you want,” I cried out awkwardly.

“I have
a confession to make, Alexandra. I’ve been watching you for the past couple of days. I hope you can forgive me. It’s just that I wanted to see who you were, without any pretense, without your mind being clouded by my presence. And I must say that I was very impressed, particularly the way you handled your undead friends. You are a survivor, Alexandra, and I enjoy this about you.”

“Are you here to kill me?” I asked suddenly as he laughed at my nervousness.

“No, not at all. But I am curious about your people. You referred to them as Sirens?”

“Yes.”

“Then what exactly is a Siren?”

“I don’t know much about it. All I know is what my mother told me w
hen I was young, before she disappeared.”

“Yes, I was going to ask you about th
at. Because it appears you live here alone. Tell me more about what your mother said.”

“We appear human, but we’re not
. I didn’t think it was true at first, but when I got older, after she said she had to go…I believed her stories – of how we’ll eventually die if we don’t extend our lives, starting from our fourteenth birthday. The songs were our weapons, and I found that out the hard way when I tried it out on my first victim.”

Why was I being so honest with him?

“It seems we’re not so different, you and I,” Noah replied, examining the curve of my neck casually. “But surely you didn’t just hear these stories and decide to kill someone with your voice.”

“No…but my body told me when it was time for me to…um…choose a victim. I could feel myself getting weaker and shutting down. I began losing my hair and
I wasn’t able to stand. I nearly died…I couldn’t leave my bed near the end. I was so desperate.”

“If you were immobile, how were you able to survive?”

BOOK: My Immortal Playlist (The Siren Collection #1)
13.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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