Under the Surface (Song of the Siren Book 1) by Sonya Blake

Author:Sonya Blake [Blake, Sonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Deciding she needed to talk to someone about all the weird shit that had been going on, Kaia took a hot shower, dressed as warmly as she could—sparing a regret for the boots and sweater she’d had to leave back on Thursday Island—and drove herself to the hardware store on Milk Street. Felicia Dunne was at the door in oversized pink glasses and furry boots, sprinkling salt on the granite step. She looked up at Kaia, her hot pink lips curving in a broad smile.

“I thought I’d see you again,” Felicia said, holding open the door. “Looks like we’re supposed to get hit with a blizzard. You’re going to need some snow boots.”

“I… had some,” Kaia said as she stepped into the warmth of the hardware store, her thin, pointless canvas sneakers slapping on the old floorboards. She turned to Felicia, hands shoved into her coat pockets, unsure how to begin. “I need to talk to you, Felicia.”

Felicia drew in a breath, then nodded and turned to lock the door, flipping the sign to closed.

“Come on upstairs,” she said.

Felicia’s second-floor apartment was airy and welcoming. From the small kitchen window a blue-black streak of ocean could be seen glimmering in the last light of day, past the peak of a fancy Victorian house on Main Street and the spires of hemlocks.

Felicia pushed aside a big stew pot and a stack of cast-iron pans to set a kettle on the stove. She pulled a can out of the cabinet and started scooping out something that looked more like roots dug out of the ground than like coffee, dumping the stuff into a grinder.

“Tell me the other bitch looks worse than you.” Felicia cast Kaia a shrewd eye.

Kaia laughed, then put a hand to her tender cheek, where the three-inch scratch was scabbing over. “A siren attacked me while I was in the water,” she said loudly over the grinding. “I fought her off. The other day I caught her spying on me from the woods, and the other night she broke into my house. I don’t know what she wants.”

Felicia stopped the grinder and spun around, putting her hands where her high-waisted jeans ended and her cropped sweater revealed a strong abdomen with skin rich as earth.

“I think I really hurt her,” Kaia added.

Felicia frowned. “Good.” She went back to grinding.

When Felicia was finished with the grinder she dumped the dark, crumbled contents into a French press.

“So, are you… ?” Kaia stammered. Like me? she wanted to ask.

Felicia lifted her graceful, arched brows. “Am I what, sweet pea? Makin’ you coffee? Why, yes, ma’am.” She spun around again and attended to the grinder. “Coffee with chicory roots, like we do in New Orleans, where I’m from. Doesn’t taste as weird as it sounds, I promise.”

Kaia wriggled her way into a chair at the round oak table. Maybe it was rude to ask someone point-blank if they weren’t human.

She thought she’d try another tack. “So, beside me, are there other… you know?”

Felicia snorted.

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