Ballad - Chapter One

Main Street - 12:00 a.m.

The soft whispers of midnight filled the ears of the lonely and the sleepless. This time of night was very eerie for someone never really could know what would happen. A man in a brown trench coat that wrapped around his gigantic form appeared from the dimly lit street of main as the stop lights continued to change for cars that were not there. The footsteps from his boots shook the windows of a nearby bakery when he passed. It was entirely too quiet and he knew why when he felt a presence near him. The broad shoulders turned as a shrieking noise shattered the silence. The brute pulled out a small pistol from inside his coat and aimed into the recently rained on streets. Neither a figure nor shadow betrayed its owner as the big man’s dark eyes scanned his immediate area. A gruff snort came from him as his roughly scarred face relaxed from the sudden intrusion of his walk. Something was trying to catch him off guard? Bring it on.  He turned back towards where he was going, the wind running through his coat tails as he did. The sound of being sliced whistled into his ears as his jacket was connected to a pole. The stop lights reflected off of the stop sign as the large man kneeled down into what looked like an awkward position. A tiny silver knife with a random design of swirls stopped him in his tracked. He tilted his head to the right when he felt the brush of a magnum against his shaved head. He cursed himself for being so stupid.

“Who?” He asked the husky tone of his voice just as looming as himself.

“That is a good question for you also, hit man. “  The female voice that came from behind the gun was sweet. Someone of youth was holding a gun at the back of his head at point blank range, noted the man. Fantastic.

“Siren. You are no match for me, Sethen of the half giants. I have torn Vikings three times your size to pieces without a blink of the eye.” He laughed hard which caused his body to shake. “ I come for you, little siren.”

“For who?” The voice stayed sickening sweet.

“A man named Brendan.” The brute jerked backward with a force that sent the girl against the building. The giant had the element of surprised and power. He’d have to continue this lucky streak if he wanted to see tomorrow. A high pitched scream broke the windows on the buildings and cars from all around. The Halfling fell on his knees and covered his now bleeding ears as the sound started to scramble his brain. The youth stood as her pitch grew in intensity causing the giant to begin bashing his forehead into the concrete. Speckles of blood started to splatter. The siren stopped the horrible sound and looked down at the injured half giant whom now laid on the ground in pain. His hardened eyes looked up at her with the hatred of a thousand.

“Siren bitch.” He spit on the leather boots that stood in front of him.

“Dead giant. “ Her red lips curved into a smile as the magnum went off into the Halfling’s already blooded forehead.

Apartment 137 - 9:30 a.m.

The blender mixed all the ingredients into a beautiful pinkish red blend. The mixture was poured into a tall, clear glass and brought to her lips. She nodded in agreement that this was the most delicious strawberry and banana smoothie she had ever made. After a long night, the girl had come back here shortly after one in the morning and immediately went to bed. Now that the sun sprinkled into the windows of the apartment, the youth walked back towards the living room which consisted of a 32 inch flat screen that sat on a metallic table with a leather couch in front of it and two matching red chairs that someone could comfortably curl up in. Tables of metal sat on either side of the chairs which were at an angle to the couch and television like a usual living room was set up like. The girl plopped down into one of the chairs and stared at the television which had been switched on to a news channel. It was talking about a horribly mugging gone wrong to some poor man up town that had been shot in the head. The girl yawned and drank more of her smoothie as the forecaster began to talk about the weather. She rolled her eyes as she knew the forecaster was less of a science person and actually a woman of magic. The only reason any of the crap she ever talked about was true was because the witch used her power to make sure it was. That was why that old hag was right. The girl squinted as the woman named Danielle Foster talked about the rain that they were going to get for the next couple of days. God, her eyesight wasn’t so good today. Putting the smooth down on the table, the girl stretched only to wince from the smack that had shoved her into a wall. “Brute.” She cussed as she raised her grey pajama top to scan her naturally tanned stomach for the huge black and blue bruise that covered it. Her back had the imprints of the brick building she had been slammed into. The siren sighed, forcing her to be thankful that she healed somewhat quicker than humans and that it hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. Fighting any offspring of a giant could have ended in death. A horrible one.

Just thinking about it made her shudder in disgust so to lift her spirit; the siren changed the channel to something a little bit more upbeat. The voices of actors off a soap opera danced around the room as the girl got up, wandering into the kitchen. Downing the drink, the girl moved over to the table that sat beside the metal door that was the entrance to her lovely home and looked through her mail. A couple of it was junk mail, then bills, but the final envelope was an off white color with hand written ink on the front and sealed with wax. She hadn’t seen this before. The writing looked to have said this:

“Miss Marilyn Baxter. “

Well, that was her name. Since there was not an address, it could be safely concluded that had been personally dropped off by someone. What a curious case. This name was the name she was born by. Not the one that she was currently using in this city. So, the person that sent this had to know who she was. Which meant someone here knew that she was not an average human either. The siren flipped it back over to glance at the wax that sealed it to analyze what has been imprinted it in. The round indention had a small crest on it consisting of a snake biting an apple. How…symbolic, she snorted and unsealed it, taking out what seemed to be perfectly white textured paper that must have been expensive because this is no plain notebook paper. Leaning against the door way, the siren began to read the contents.

“Dear Marylyn,

The Duchess of Sector 4, which includes the town you are staying in, requests that you join her company soon because it’s not in good taste you don’t stop by and say Hello. This is not an offer. It’s a request. We promise to keep it a secret you are in the area. We wouldn’t want you to lose your head, ha-ha. Sorry about the joke. I am sure you are perfectly capable of being a little thorn in the side of the Court but let’s keep your breathing until you become of less use, eh?

Hugs & Kisses,

The Duchess Eve and Second-in-Command Arnold Whitner. “

The girl growled and almost crumpled the letter up in a fit of anger. Those high blood were extremely annoying. They think just because they have their noses in the air they can just come and order her to see their prissy butts! She is in danger of dying and here they are requesting her as if it was as easy as ordering take out! She let out a scream and burst the smoothie glass that had placed down early. Dammit.

Marilyn slammed the letter down on the counter and stalked to her bedroom, pushing the door closed with a boom before falling face first into the red comforter that was on her bed. Royalty. What a miserable concept. The sirens followed the laws of the Queen whom ruled over all of them. But of course, there was the tree of royalty. There was the Queen, then the Duchesses and Dukes, then the Sheriffs, and all the rest of the sirens. All Duchesses and Dukes had Second-in-Command just like how America has a president and then vice president. If the head goes down, the second takes his or her place. All of them then have their own sheriffs who act like the head of police. In case any of the Dukes or Duchesses has any messy business or illegal acts going on in their territories, they call up the sheriff. But that is only if it’s so well known or important to them. The sheriffs are, in general, supposed to know everything that goes down. Then you have the poser royalty who pretend to be important but aren’t. Just high class or famous sirens that think they are better than the rest. Then there are the ones that are actually powerful and important but usually play the dirty side of the field. It’s a messy life but hey, someone has got to do it. But there are also the ones that don’t really like the old ways. One of them being her. The old ways basically say Hey. They are going to live for a quite a long time. Let’s see who can be more conceited and vindictive. Or that is at least how Marilyn sees it. She’s been on her own for probably four years now since she left the court. She used to be a Duchess. No reason in lying about it now. Sector 6. Just two states over. Maybe being this close to home hasn’t been good for her. But there was someone hunting her and after the dirty royalty had ordered a hit on her sector, she was not about to let anything get in her way of solving this little mystery. Her thoughts went back to her Sector 6. The siren had not been in the position of authority for long. She hadn’t even wanted it until her father had died and named her predecessor in the will. As a young child, the girl had been as wild as the woods and everything that had inhabited it. When she was forced into the throne, the rules constrained her. Things were not looking good but she had no choice. It wasn’t like she could just be like Oh, I can’t do this. It bores me. But the dirty royalty much have seen something in her that she didn’t like. Especially when she passed the law that sirens and humans could marry and had other bills on her desk that talked more about interspecies marriage. She had started a movement with that. Sector 25 has then passed a bill similar to that, divorced his long time siren husband, and married a werecouger. This caused Sector 23 whom has been his husband to ban interspecies marriage. From there, the siren community has been split into two halves. Now, Marilyn was very popular and much hated which is why prices were set for not only her protection but for her head to. She grumbled and got up, heading to the shower to clear the thoughts of her brain.

10:50 a.m.

The siren stepped out of her bathroom, refreshed and well-dressed. She analyzed herself in the mirror. In human standards, she was very pretty. For sirens, she was an average apple. With glossy black hair that hung down her back in carefully done curls which faded into blue, her features were soft and feminine, thanks to her foreign ancestry. Her startling almost black eyes were enhanced with blue flecks of color here and there. The usual wing of black eyeliner gave off a beautiful effect as well. The short height created an adorable atmosphere about her and with a figure that clearly stated she was female; the 22 year old siren was extremely easy on the eyes. Now her style just added to the package. A fitted blue tank top was under a leather jacket with studs. It hid a leather carrier that held two black magnum hand held guns. A pair of dark colored jeans were tucked into combat boots which the left boot hid a dagger and the right one hid a small flash grenade. Talk about prepared. She looked into the mirror to check herself over before putting on black rimmed glasses. Her eyesight wasn’t too good sometimes and after being slammed into a wall, she wasn’t really feeling like straining her eyes with contacts today. Marilyn grabbed her leather wallet from her dresser and left the room to head out for the day.

She had to meet an informant at the coffee shop on Seventh Street before calling the Duchess Eve to set up a time to come over. Locking the apartment, the siren quickly went down the three flights of stairs since the elevator was still out and slipped outside, the morning welcoming just the sight of her. The birds sang to the feel of spring as she walked to the parking lot of the building. Very few cars stayed here since the neighborhood tended to be a little bit on the sketchy side but she was completely fine with leaving her bike here since the insurance covered theft. Speaking of her bike, there it was. A “Fat Boy” Harley Davidson motorcycle with the most beautifully clean chrome on it that just sparkled in the light. The seat was expensive leather and the box that sat on the back was black leather also with chrome gothic crosses on it. She unlocked the little box, taking out the all black helmet with its black visor and put it over her head before getting on the bike. The siren began to hum a little tune before revving the engine and driving out of the garage. Before she knew it, buildings and cars flew by in a blur of shapes and colors. Horns honked and people yelled but the speed was all that mattered. A quick turn on a corner here and just getting through a light in time before it turned red got the adrenaline pumping. She slid right through as a semi-truck backed up and blocked off a whole street. She would have been late if she got stuck in that traffic jam and Mister Grumpy Pants Informant wouldn‘t like that. Marilyn turned on to Seventh Street, slowing down as the sign “Voodoo’s Coffee and Brew” came into sight. The female parked at the meter, dropping a few quarters in before removing her helmet and walking into the coffee shop. The smell of its delicious odor filled her nostrils and made her smile. Nothing was like the smell of coffee. Not a thing. Her moment of bliss was interrupted when a man came into view out of the corner her eye. As she turned to glance as him, he was served two lattes. One would be caramel and the other would be mocha. Maybe he cared after all. As the server walked back to her station, the scent of a claimed human filled her nostrils.  The smell of dead was unmistakable which is why it’s so easy to know when a vampire had a human lover and vice versa. That and his very dark attire made the two plus two thing easier to put together.  Marilyn sat down at the table and took her drink, mocha doing the cha-cha on her tongue.

“How’s the dead broad?”

If looks could kill, those green eyes that the human gave her would have. His stubble was the same shade of dirty blonde as the neat cut on his head was. “Be nice. She doesn’t have to help you, Baxter. “For an 18 year old, the kid had attitude. Oh wait, all teenagers have that problem.

She rolled her eyes and took another sip, the warmth delighting her from head to toe. “I’m teasing, you little dead humper. I’m assuming she is all well and what not since you aren’t sobbing. That’s good. I need your Mistress alive. So, what’s the big news?” The girl looked around noticing the coffee shop this time of day was fairly busy. The Voodoo has a very earthy feel to it since its green walls has murals of the jungle on it.

“Well,” The human played with his cup. “She told me to tell you that the Halfling was indeed told to kill you by Brendan because he can’t do his dirty work for himself. But of course, that is the Puerto Rico Duke. From his big size to his flowing hair, he’s a dick. “

The siren rolled her eyes before glancing back at him. “Robin, c’mon. Tell me something I don’t know.” Boys, what can they do right?

Informant and Grumpy Pants Robin huffed and scratched his chin. “Did you know he may get a position that is closer to the Queen...like…in the palace close?”

This was news to her. “He’d have me dead for sure then.”

“You’d think he’d be nicer since you’re the Queen’s-”

She thumped him in the forehead. “Shut up. We don’t talk about my relation to that hag.” The door of the shop opened as an elderly couple of ladies entered. Marilyn focused back on Robin. “Anything else?”

“Eve isn’t happy you haven’t visited her.” He drank his latte before suddenly tensing up.

She rolled her eyes. “Rob-”

The boy silenced her with a look and the siren knew something was up. Man, vampire blood must be good if they can enhance stuff in humans. Was it the old ladies? Could they be some hit man ordered to murder her here and now!? No. Robin was looking outside. He must be seeing something. Marilyn suddenly wondered when his vampire would change him. They’ve been going for a while and if she hadn’t wanted him, she wouldn’t have kept him this long. Back to the task on hand.

Her attention went back to Robin when he looked at her. “There is a black van outside. They’ve been watching us. Know anyone that looks like a bad guy?”

The siren gave him a hard look. “Everyone is bad.” She turned in her chair and looked, seeing the black van before seeing the driver get out and point a very large gun at the shop.

There goes the coffee.