The only thing I can see when the rabid siren’s teeth wrap around my neck is a face. Calliope’s face. Not Bethea’s, but Calliope’s. I close my eyes and prepare myself to surrender to death.
But then, I hear a loud thud and suddenly I can breathe again. I open my eyes and look around, grasping my chest and struggling to breathe when I see the siren in a heap a few feet away. My gaze flicks about until I finally see a dark-haired woman coming from the shadows. She’s holding a wand in front of her, and it’s glowing bright red.
She’s strikingly beautiful, clad in men’s clothing except for the corset around her waist. “Who are you?” I ask, looking anxiously back at the immobilized siren and rubbing my neck.
“Drusilla,” she says flatly.
“Lucas,” I say as politely as I can.
“I know who you
