The Siren (Laments of Angels & Dark Chemistry Book 1) (2 page)

CHAPTER 1

Present

Tibet

“We don’t have all the time in the world. You know that, don’t you, Vladimir Blazek?” Lucienne Lam’s voice was rich and sweet.

At five feet eleven inches, there wasn’t the slightest awkwardness about her. Instead, her height and athletic figure gave her a regal air. She was wearing a Tibetan outfit—a close-fitting robe and shirt, with a colorful apron of narrow stripes. From her left ear hung a silver ring decorated with turquoise—a disguised detonator.

“Don’t say my name out loud, Lucia,” the boy whispered back, “if you don’t want those angry monks on our tails. For pirates’ sake, we’re trying to rob the monastery, and I’m the only Blazek who has spent three months with them.” His hands fumbled on the wall of frescoes, looking for a hidden button in the Gonkhang Chapel. “And we do have time. We damaged the Assembly Hall’s corridor yesterday, remember? The monks have sealed off this section.”

Unconvinced, Lucienne glanced at the entrance before sliding her gaze back to Vladimir. Catching a smug expression on his exceptionally good-looking face, she rolled her eyes. “It’s been two years since you studied with the monks. They’ve probably forgotten all about you.”

When he looked back at her, she quickly turned her whiskey-brown eyes to the incense burners. She didn’t want him to catch her studying his fine-boned nose and cheekbones that betrayed his aristocratic breeding.

“They remember me.” Vladimir winked. His gaze was hot on Lucienne’s face. He wasn’t shy about staring at her. “Not many guys have eyes as gorgeous as mine.”

Vladimir was seventeen. Even at six feet four inches, he lithely navigated the burning lamps and bowls of holy water as he moved along the altar. He wore a Tibetan robe of the left-sleeves style, exposing his broad shoulder. Lucienne insisted that left-sleeve was the current Tibetan fashion, denying that she wanted a peek at his well-structured torso, as Vladimir had claimed. 

“The monks don’t care about pretty eyes like we do,” said Lucienne.  

“Then you must have noticed,” Vladimir said. “Do you find my eyes irresistible?” 

“You’re asking the wrong girl, Blazek! The girls you’re with may tell you your eyes—or any other body parts—are irresistible, but I have standards.”

“
Were
with
.
” Vladimir corrected with a sigh. “That was before I met you. How could I know you were occupying a corner patch of the earth?”

“You told me you’d heard a lot about me when we first met in Desert Cymbidium.”

“Well, everyone’s heard about you. The military school was founded by your family, and you’re the first female heir of the Lams. But you have a tough reputation. They say you aren’t a nice girl.”

“Is that why you challenged me?” Her almond eyes sparked in the dim light. She watched him fasten the bottom of his robe to his waist. Under the robe, he wore hunter’s trousers and boots. She let her eyes linger on his long, strong legs as he pulled a scanner from the portable shrine strapped to his shoulder.

“The instructor should have kicked you out for playing dirty like that,” Vladimir said.

“But everyone was delighted to see how I made you eat mud.”  

“Unfortunately for me, I can no longer treat you like—”

“Like you treat your other girls?” Lucienne’s voice turned icy. “You treat girls like dirt. You’re a jerk. I should never have let you persuade me to come here.”

“You want this, Lucia. You didn’t need much persuasion,” said Vladimir.

That statement struck home. She wanted this desperately, more than he could ever know. Lucienne sighed. Her enemies, most of them her own family, had formed a secret boys’ club. They wanted her head on a silver platter before her sixteenth birthday—when her reign as Siren would begin. Which was less than a month away.

But if she succeeded and obtained one of the two remaining ancient scrolls, the rest of the family would gain confidence in her, and resistance against having a female Siren would diminish. She’d stop a family war. However, Lucienne wouldn’t confess any of this to the Czech boy. She kept a blank expression as she watched him press the scanner against the wall.

“It’s here.” Vladimir raised his gaze from the device. “Now where is the damn button? I’ve groped every inch of the wall.” He leaped down from the altar, not spilling a drop of the water in the seven bowls that rested on top. His eyes grew anxious as he surveyed the room.

“I won’t blame you if we go home empty-handed, you know,” Lucienne said. “I appreciate any time away from those endless meetings with my grandfather’s cronies.”

“Politics will forever be a part of your life,” Vladimir said, not without sympathy. 

“You’re an heir, too. Doesn’t your uncle hold you to family obligations? I heard he’s not easy to fend off.”

“The old man wants me to mate with a girl he picks and breed the next heir immediately.” Vladimir shrugged a shoulder. “He’s quite disappointed in me.”

Lucienne drew a sharp breath. “Are you going to do that?”  

“Do what? Disappoint him?”

“Breed!” Lucienne said, her cheeks flaming.  

She saw a mischievous light flitting in Vladimir’s eyes, followed by the flickering of the flashlight along the wall as he continued searching for the hidden gadget. “Of course—at some point. I’m not a real monk. I have a need to reproduce.”   

Lucienne’s lips closed in a thin line. “Should we wrap this up so you can go reproduce?”

“Excellent idea,” chortled Vladimir.

“Whatever.” She managed a careless tone.

“Well, just so you’re not too disappointed,” Vladimir whispered. “I—we must find the scroll. That’s my one-way ticket to be with you. If we have it, your grandfather and that bulldog Kian McQuillen can’t object to our—hanging out. That’s been my brilliant plan all along.”

Outside her family, few knew of the existence of the three ancient scrolls. Lucienne wondered how Vladimir had gotten wind of them, but she was more occupied with his confession. He brought her here . . . to gain her. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. As she calmed down, all the sounds she had blocked out flooded back into the room—the monks’ guttural chanting from the prayer hall and the crowd’s singing amid the drumbeat from the courtyard. Today was the first day of Tibetan Losar.

“Well,” Lucienne said, trying to hide a smile. “I don’t need Jed and Kian’s approval on whom I choose—to hang out with.”

“I’d like to be on good terms with your people.”

“If you insist,” Lucienne said. “But how can you be so sure the scroll’s in Samye?” She knew the former Sirens had checked Drepung, Ganden, and Sera—the three most important monasteries in Tibet—but paid little attention to Samye.

“Samye was the first monastery in Tibet,” Vladimir said. “When it was built in the eighth century, Shantarakshita, the saint, brought a holy item with him and had the Seven Examined Men guard it with their lives. But even the Seven Men weren’t allowed to peek at what they were guarding. Word spread among the high-ranking monks that the holy item was one of the three ancient scrolls. When I overheard their whispers during one of my midnight escapades, I started looking for it.”

“Midnight escapades?”

Vladimir gave her a look. “Anyway, during my nights out, I found where Saint Shantarakshita hid the treasure.”

“Then do you mind showing me? We’ve been here for a good hour. The monks could find us any minute. Maybe we should go back to the Dalai Lama’s old throne room. Some relics inside the barred glass case looked promising. We might find a clue inside Padmasambhava's walking stick or in Shantarakshita’s skull?”

“I checked all those last time I was here,” Vladimir said. “And I have absolute confidence in my scanner. You know how much money I spent on it? No, the holy stuff is here. I didn’t go through hell to get the original floor map of this place for nothing. Only Gonkhang chapel has this extra hidden space.”

“Three by two by fourteen feet, you said.”

“And it’s right behind this wall.” Vladimir knocked on the frescoes wall.

“Shush,” Lucienne hushed him, catching a faint flash of light at the fringe of her vision. She turned her head. There was no light. Only the Bön demon’ statue stood tall. She strolled toward it, her eyes sweeping over the human skulls at its feet and up its hideous body to its protruding fangs, settling on its odd eyes. 

Vladimir moved behind her like a panther. Lucienne was immediately aware of his warm breath on her neck. His scent was like a wild river rushing under the summer sun, making her blood wild. “Have you noticed his eyes?” She breathed, struggling not to be distracted by his nearness. 

“They look mean?” 

“Look again.” 

Vladimir squinted. “All the statues in the temple have black eyes. Only this deity’s third eye is pale blue.”

“Take me up,” Lucienne said.  

Vladimir bent one knee. The minute their hands clasped, Lucienne used the push to leap from his bent knee; her booted feet landed on his shoulders. Vladimir craned his neck to look up, but Lucienne’s ankle tapped the side of his face with a warning. Vladimir leveled his head with a chortle, snuggling his face against her calf like a purring cat. “Lithe grace,” he said.  

Forcing herself to focus on her task rather than Vladimir’s touch, Lucienne twisted open one of her bracelets, an archaeology artifact scanner, and placed it in front of the demon’s eyes. “Both eyes are made of onyx.” She moved it toward the statue’s third eye. It read:
Artificial human eye. 775 CE.

Technology ahead of its time.
Lucienne inhaled. “Flashlight, please.”

Vladimir tossed his flashlight up. Lucienne snatched it and shot the light into the third eye. The artificial blue eye swirled, as if coming to life. Lucienne jerked her head back. The beads on her braids rattled.

“Lucia?” Vladimir stirred under her feet, his voice sounding alarmed.

Suddenly, Lucienne knew what to do. She leaned in until her left eye was an inch from the artificial one. She widened her eye, holding for a few seconds, and blinked.  

A whoosh of wind rippled across the chapel; the solid wall of frescoes moved. Lucienne landed beside Vladimir. The wall rolled aside, revealing a small compartment. Vladimir dashed into it with Lucienne at his heels. They stared at a transparent palm reader that guarded the last door. 

“Biometric technology,” whispered Vladimir. “It’s more advanced than any scanner I’ve seen. Give me your artifact tool.”

Lucienne had already turned her device on the palm reader.
Transparent metal
. She drew a breath. “How could they have had this technology in the eighth century?”

“It might not be their technology.” Vladimir pressed his palm against the scanner. Instantly a violent force sent him flying across the chapel. He hit a wall and slid to the floor.  

“Vlad! Are you hurt?” Lucienne ran to him.

Vladimir groaned, coughed, and cursed in Czech as he struggled up.    

Drumbeats and the chanting of monks from the distant Pray Hall stopped abruptly. Vladimir and Lucienne traded an alarmed look. Had the monks been alerted to their presence? Lucienne turned back to the biometric scanner.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Vladimir warned.

“I opened the first door. Now I have to open the last.”

She placed a hand on the scanner. Intense electricity seared through her, sending her soaring into the air. Vladimir reacted instantly, catching her before she hit the wall. The impact drove them both to the ground. “I’m glad you’re on top,” said Vladimir with another groan. “I absorbed most of the hit.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Lucienne turned to Vladimir, their faces inches away. His warm breath and pheromone made her forget where she was. Rushing footsteps brought her to her senses.
  

“Vlad?”

“Yes, Lucia?” he whispered, his hands pressing against the small of her back.

“We’ve been discovered.”

“I know. But there’s no need for them to yell. That’s kind of rude.”

“They’re not yelling.”

“No, but they will.”

Lucienne broke from Vladimir’s strong arms and scrambled to her feet. Vladimir’s eyes darted between the compartment and the chapel entrance. “We need to shut the closet. Let’s come back when we figure out that DNA scanner.”

“We won’t get a second chance.” Lucienne was at the biometric scanner in a second. She knelt, her back to the scanner, and brushed her long braids to the side. On the nape of her neck was an eye-shaped gold implant that resembled flowing liquid, yet was entirely solid. It was the mark of the Siren, removed from the former Siren and transplanted to her when she was crowned in the ritual.

The mark of the Siren was the ultimate secret for all Sirens, a secret they carried to their grave, more sacred than the symbol of a king’s scepter. It sanctioned the Siren and bestowed upon the wearer powers and supernatural protection.  The chip felt cool in Lucienne’s neck now. But when she was implanted, the pain was like wading through seas of sulfur fire.