Odd Melody (Odd Series Book 2)

BOOK: Odd Melody (Odd Series Book 2)
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Odd Melody
 

 

Virginia Nelson

 

Odd Melody 

Odd Series

By: Virginia Nelson

Published by Virginia Nelson

© 2014 Virginia Nelson

ISBN-13: 978-1500850418

ISBN-10: 1500850411

Cover Art by Virginia Nelson

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the publisher at [email protected]

Note from the author: All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, vampires, organizations, fog monsters, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. 

 

 

DEDICATION

 

 

To Jordan Brown, for faith.

.

To Danny, for Jeopardy and the Harbor Hammer.

 

 

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

 

 

Without the patience and unlimited supplies of coffee offered by my children and friends, I would not be able to finish a word of writing, so special thanks go out to Justice, David and Ashton, & Michelle and Jordan Brown. Heather Chandler read the story as it progressed (even including the outline at some points), so thanks for being a voracious reader.

Thanks to (in random order) Justy, Jfab, Henchie, Pixie for helping me write a realistic Vickie. Pieces of you guys are stuck all over her. Love ya.

Lots of love to Joanie and Danny Ashley—for food, love, Jeopardy watching and stories. Without Danny Ashley, there would have been no Harbor Hammer. There apparently was a ‘Hammer’ historically; however the original story is a far cry from the one my imagination generated when he mentioned it to me.

Thanks to my crit partners and betas for so many hours of reading.

Thanks to Christine Jacobs, for believing in this story (and me) before even I did.

Thanks to Tony and the Schommers. Tony for loving this story and reminding me constantly it would make a great movie and the Schommers for a lovely home and a safe place to raise my kids. (And an office. Because YAY I have an office!!)

Thanks to my writing groups, AWFUL and MUSE. Go get em, y’all.

Thanks to those I didn’t mention but who supported this story and me. Love you all. xoxo - Virg

 

 

Odd Melody

 

 

Janie Smith is ready to get her life in order. She just needs to control her powers, feed without killing someone, deal with a sick witch, a vampire boyfriend committed by fate to another, and an ancient serial killer’s ghost hidden inside an unsuspecting human. Oh, and she must also put up with Queen Mab’s unwanted elfin fiancé while dodging Chance, her supposed soul mate, while helping her daughter adjust to life after divorce. Seriously, not a big deal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER One

 

 

My name is Janie Smith and everybody who is anybody in the world of the strange wants me—and by association, my kid—dead.

Merry frigging Christmas.

I tapped my toe on the dash and considered the boats docked in the harbor, all tarped against the snowstorm Dick Goddard predicted would hit today. According to my friend Julia, the Wiccan stripper, Dick was right.
Ha, ha. The stripper said Dick was right.
 

Okay, so that one was off even for me.

While I played with the straw from my cherry slushie, I adamantly hoped that the school bus would beat the lift bridge. Chances were it wouldn’t—my daughter, Vickie, and I would be sitting there, staring at the harbor for another half an hour, and she would be late for school. With my luck lately, I had a better chance of Santa getting stuck in the chimney we didn’t have than catching the damned bus. I stuck the slushie in my cup holder without taking a single slurp, which was probably for the best. Leftover from the day before, the bacteria count was probably nearly as high as the calorie count.

If the most dangerous thing in my life at that point was the slushie, I would have been okay, but as the last siren, I had worse problems than your average almost-forty-year-old. Mia, my best friend, was a witch and I am dating a vampire. My mom? She rules the fairy kingdom with a well-manicured fist I feared would soon descend on me. Things had gotten a bit complicated in my life lately.

I hadn’t yet figured out how to tell my mother I came into my power and decided to date a vampire. The last part wouldn’t sit well with her since vampires killed the whole siren species, including my dad. So far, my method of dealing with her was avoidance. Sadly, I knew all too well that in a town the size of Ashtabula, Ohio, my strategy wouldn’t work for long.

Queen Mab—or my dearest Mom—expected nothing less than perfection from her minions and me. She’d never done anything less than perfect, well, except creating me. I’ve never been perfect and, by breathing, represent the only thing she ever flubbed.

My boyfriend of the past week could be described as perfect. Vance looked like a European rock star, kissed like a…really good kisser, and when we did it, I have been known to literally hit the roof. A small smile played around the corners of my lips at the thought, and I glanced at Vickie, glad she couldn’t read my mind. The things he and I did, a mother should not do.
But they sure were fun.
 

Vickie looked a lot like me, prior to the changes wrought by coming into my full siren power. Hair like dark honey framed her large blue eyes and distinctly elfin features—all from my mother’s side of the family. She looked so sweet and had no idea what I went through at times to keep the glitter in her azure eyes safe.

Less than twenty-four-hours before, for instance, a psychotic man claiming to be my soul mate told me my daughter had been kidnapped. I turned into a full siren in a feeble, and not-well-thought-out, attempt to rescue her. She didn’t know any of it and I hoped she never would.

Vickie glanced up as if she sensed my eyes on her and glared. I smiled, and she rolled her eyes. A flick of the dial on the dashboard sent heat pumping from the vents. Even though the sun still shone brightly, an Alberta Clipper moving in from Canada brought a wash of arctic air which made standing outside for even a few minutes unbearable. Then again, gas prices made sitting in my car and running the heater at a stationary position equally painful.

In the distance, I caught a flash of yellow, and I leaned toward my daughter for a kiss. After granting me a quick, obligatory peck, she smacked me in the face with her backpack as she spun to battle with the car door. As it was unintentional and she had to hurry, I let it go.

“Be good, and have a great day!” I used my best soccer mom tone.

Vickie looked unimpressed. “Try not to eat too much MSG.”

I smirked as she jumped out of the car and made a dash for the bus. If she hadn’t been outside, the bus would not have stopped. When I was a kid, the bus stopped. It honked. It waited. Not now. Now the driver paused and kept on a-rollin’. Nobody wasted gas, not even the school buses. Shutting off my car, I burrowed into my coat to make the short jog back to Odd Stuff, Mia’s store. I paused just inside the doorway, as I always did, to inhale the incense and candle scented air. I loved the smell of Mia’s store. It relaxed me while most of my life did not.

Each day provided a new beginning, though. I promised myself a fresh start and ignored the niggling little voice that whispered I had told myself the same thing last week. Last week, I worried where I would find a job and how I could help Vickie adjust to life after divorce.
Ah, the good old days.
 

This week I had to figure out how to be a siren, how to have a vamp boyfriend, how not to get killed while working for the FBI
and
help Vickie adjust after divorce.

Somehow, the list had grown rather than shrinking.

I needed to get cracking on my to-do list. Usually a massive infusion of coffee jump started Mondays and, as I had only ingested about half a pot at that point, I headed upstairs for another cup. With luck, Mia would be awake, but I didn’t hold out much hope of that. As I plodded up the stairs, I scratched absentmindedly at my wig. Unfortunately, when I made the change from whatever I had been before to full siren, my hair altered dramatically from dirty, dishwater blond to an unearthly silver. Since walking around with moonlit hair painted an even bigger bull’s-eye on my forehead, I purchased a wig of my natural hair color yesterday. It itched abominably.

Behind the pink door at the head of the spiral staircase, I heard off-key singing. It took me a minute to place the tune. Ahhh, Owl City, Fireflies.

“It’s hard to say that I’d rather stay awake when I’m asleep, cause everything is never as it seems.”
Mia’s head tilted back as she belted the lyrics and I cringed.

“No, it’s not.” I cocked a hip on the counter and waited for my presence to register with my roommate. I didn’t have to wait long.

She whirled around. Perfect ebony curls bounced as she spun, and her eyes sparkled as the hypnotic lyrics pulsed through the shop. I studied my eclectic best friend in her white tunic style blouse and floaty skirt in shades of emerald and azure—Mia’s usual witchy wear. Sparkles accented the outfit including bangles at the wrists, some girlie thing at her hips, and necklaces hanging nearly to her waist.

In comparison, I looked like a boy. Jeans with holes in the knees, a tee shirt topped with a hoodie big enough to fit two football players created my comfortable look—a far cry from Mia’s feminine attire.

“Leave the singing to me from now on, witch.” A wave of unreasonable and uncalled for jealousy washed over me, leaving me with little more than a grumble for a voice. I wished I could be as girly as her sometimes. Not often, but sometimes.

She glared. “At least my voice doesn’t make men go mad.”

“I wouldn’t place bets on that. Go public. My money’s on you.”

“Ha ha. And here I was going to offer you a cup of coffee.”

Shifting my weight to another leg, I waggled my eyebrows and tried to look hopeful. “My kingdom for your Maxwell House?”

“Cheap aren’t you?” Mia poured me a mug. “Vickie catch the bus today?”

“Yup.” I looked at the mug curiously. Weird symbols circled it. Maybe runes? I sipped carefully. It tasted safe. You never can tell with a witch.

“You meet with the FBI lady today?” She either didn’t notice my coffee mug study or discreetly ignored it.

“Yup.”

“Monosyllables…up late?” Practically purring, Mia peered at me out of the corner of her eye.

“I am not gratifying you with a sick rehashing of my sex life.”

She smirked. “Since when?”

Just then, Sven swept into the room in a cloud of
Cool Water for Him
, wearing his favorite blazer—leopard print. He was one of a kind. In deference to the weather, he sported a pink fuzzy scarf and matching mittens. His tee shirt of the day read,
Ask me about the Other Side
. All this caught my eye because, aside from the fashion train wreck, he stood nearly seven feet tall. The man was a modern gentle giant. “Morning, Sven.” I nodded in greeting.

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