When she turned around, Starlight was sitting behind her. He was tall and thin, as if he’d been stretched like toffee. He blinked at her, watching her every move.
“What’s wrong. Are you hungry?”
Reg moved toward the fridge, but Starlight didn’t break his gaze. He kept watching her.
“We had ribs tonight,” Reg told him. “I should have brought some home. Though they all had sauce and spices on them, and those things aren’t very good for your digestion.”
Even when she opened the fridge door, he still didn’t start meowing and wrapping himself around her legs. Reg took out a takeout container of chicken and put it on the counter.
“Is something wrong? Are you sick?”
Norma Jean had done something to make him sick before, and now he was paying no attention to food. Did he sense that she was a siren too, and something about that had taken away his appetite? Could he sense that she’d tried to pull Corvin into the ocean, under the waves, where she could be alone with him and still be unafraid?
Reg swallowed.
“What is it, Starlight? Don’t look at me like that.”
He finally broke eye contact and looked toward the door.
“Is that it, you’re just mad that I was out with Corvin?”
He meowed at her, a low note of agreement.
“Everything was fine. He didn’t get into my head. He didn’t steal any of my powers. Just the opposite—I—”
Her words dried up. She didn’t know what she wanted to tell Starlight, how she would explain what she had tried to do. She felt powerful, knowing that she had nearly overcome Corvin, and could have if she hadn’t fought herself. But that was sick. Not something she should have been proud of. Not something that Starlight would be proud of.
She swore under her breath and started to pull apart one of the drumsticks to feed the meat to Starlight.
He gave up on being tall and stern like an Egyptian cat statue and meowed for his supper. He rubbed against her legs, letting her know that all was forgiven. But would he forgive her if he knew what she had done? What she had tried to do?
Starlight had eaten and was sitting beside Reg on the couch. She petted him and closed her eyes, thinking over the evening. Somehow, evenings with Corvin always turned out to be way more challenging and eventful than they should. There were no quiet nights out with Corvin. She was just going to have to accept that.
“I should just stay away from him,” she told Starlight. “Or he should stay away from me. I shouldn’t have said yes to him. I don’t owe him anything. We don’t need to have any more dates.”
Starlight purred loudly.
“You’re not supposed to agree quite so fast.”
“Humans are confusing.”
Reg jumped, and looked around for the source of the voice.
She hadn’t seen Harrison for some time, not since Yule. She hadn’t called him during that time, but it still surprised her that he hadn’t been around. Maybe she should have called him. Maybe he would have healed Calliopia for her without them having to go all the way to the mountains to have the blade unmade. Or maybe she should have called him to ask about Jacky Lane. But if she, a human, had problems understanding Jacky’s motivations and behavior, then how was an immortal like Harrison going to unpack it?
“Harrison.”
He sat in one of the wicker chairs, one long, skinny leg up over the arm like a teenager lounging. He was wearing all black, including a floppy-brimmed black hat, and looked something like a demented Zorro. Without a mask.
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking in on my goddaughter.”
“You’re not really my godfather. Or my uncle.”
He shrugged. “That makes no difference.”
“I suppose you know all about what went on tonight.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I was trying to figure it out from what you said to Starlight, but…”
Starlight jumped down from the couch and marched over to Harrison, who instantly picked him up and began to stroke and cuddle him, making a low purring noise himself.
“Oh, good grief. The way the two of you go on.” Reg shook her head and looked away from them, embarrassed by a grown man—or something that took the form of a grown man—being so silly over a cat. “I think the two of you must have been lovers in a previous life.”
Harrison chuckled. “We all play many roles in many lives,” he said obliquely. “One never knows.”
“For once, could you say something that didn’t sound like it came out of a fortune cookie?”
Harrison frowned, his brows bunching together, as he considered the question. Eventually, he shook his head. “No.”
“It was a rhetorical question.”
“Rhetorical.”
“That means one you weren’t supposed to answer, because I already know the answer. It’s implied in the question.”
He considered this. “Now you sound like a fortune cookie.”
“It’s your influence. That’s what happens when I’m around you.”
He smiled and nodded happily. “Good.”
“No. Not good. Because I want answers.”
“Then you should not… ask questions rhetorical.”
“Ugh.” Reg tried to shake off the confusion he always inspired. “I’m glad you’re here tonight because I have some questions.”
“Unrhetorical?”
“Unrhetorical.”
Harrison put Starlight down in his lap and kept patting him.
“Did you know that Norma Jean was part siren?” Reg demanded.
He gave an easy nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“You did not know?”
“No. How could I know?”
Harrison pursed his lips.
“No.” Reg waved her hand. “Don’t answer that one. So if she is part siren, then so am I.”
He tilted his head to the side. “That is likely,” he agreed.
“Only likely? I inherited it from her, didn’t I?”
He wobbled his hand back and forth. “Perhaps.”
Maybe because Norma Jean was only part siren, Reg could have inherited the non-siren part. Or maybe, in the less-conventional way immortals produced offspring, Reg might not have inherited anything from Norma Jean. She could have nothing of either of them.
But Reg knew that wasn’t true. She knew what had just happened.
“I guess that… I did inherit some of her siren genes. I don’t want that to be true, and I said it wasn’t, but…”
“Humans do not choose their physical forms.”
It was a basic truth that Reg already knew, but when Harrison said it, it sounded inspired. And it sounded like he forgave her for whatever her physical nature was. Reg felt reassured for the first time. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Or she didn’t exist as something wrong. She was what she had been made.
“No. I didn’t choose to be part siren.”
Harrison nodded his agreement.
“But… I am. And now I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You cannot change what you are.”
“Right. But what can I change or control? I don’t have to… act like a siren, do I?”
“How does a siren not act like a siren? However a siren acts is how a siren is.”
“Umm… yeah, I guess. But this siren doesn’t want to… well… drown men.”
“Ahh.” Harrison nodded wisely. He looked toward the kitchen. “They don’t… taste so good.”
Reg’s startled giggles were so high they were almost ultrasonic. She felt giddy. Maybe a little hysterical. Men didn’t taste good? That was the best reason Harrison could think of not to kill them?
“I meant… I don’t want to kill anything. I just want to live like the other normal humans. No siren nature. No taking men away and trying to drown them. Whether I eat them or not, it’s wrong.”
Harrison nodded sagely. He looked toward the kitchen again.
“Are you hungry?” Reg asked in exasperation.
“Do you have pizza?”
“No, I don’t think so… if I do, it’s probably old and gross.” She really should clean out the fridge sometime before Sarah did. They were Reg’s leftovers, or mostly so, and she should be the one responsible for cleaning up. “You should have seen the restaurant Corvin and I were at tonight. The best ribs you ever tasted!”
“Human ribs?”
“No! No, I’m not talking about eating human ribs. I’m talking about ribs… pork, I guess. We went to Uncle Mike’s, and they have the best ribs you ever tasted.”
“The best?” Harrison repeated.
Reg thought that he must have had ribs sometime in his immortal life. How could he go for hundreds or thousands of years without tasting ribs?
“Yes. You really have to try them—”
She should have known better than to say something like that. Harrison stood up and walked to Reg’s kitchen, where the counters were suddenly covered with barbecue ribs on various platters and plates. Harrison put Starlight down on the island. He put on an Uncle Mike’s bib. Starlight immediately started sniffing the various different plates. He sneezed at the spices on one. Harrison started picking up random ribs to taste, giving little bits to Starlight. He nodded and spoke through mouthfuls of food.
“Yes,” he agreed, “they are much better.”
Reg was afraid to ask what kind of ribs he had eaten in the past. Something prehistoric? Raw? Human? She was glad that he liked Uncle Mike’s ribs, but she wondered how he had produced them. Had he made them out of thin air? Or had he transported them from Uncle Mike’s? Were all of the cooks and waiters staring at empty counters and tables, wondering where the heck all of the ribs had suddenly disappeared to?
“So, can you help me?” she asked Harrison.
He gestured to the bounty on her counter. “Help yourself.”
“No, I don’t mean that. I had enough ribs. I’m not hungry. I meant… can you help me with not acting like a siren? With making sure that I don’t… try to drown anyone?”
“If you do not want to, then do not.”
“It’s not that easy. I didn’t want to tonight, but I was trying to capture Corvin and drag him into the ocean…”
“But you did not.”
“No.”
He made a motion toward her like she had proven his point.
“But I’m worried it might happen in the future. What if I’m too tired to be able to stop myself? What if I… do it in my sleep? Or in a trance? Norma Jean didn’t really know what she was doing, not in the beginning, anyway.”
“Norma Jean is what she is, and Reg Rawlins is not Norma Jean.”
“I know.” Reg huffed in frustration. “I didn’t feel like I was in control. Something else was controlling me. This… hunger from deep down inside.”
“Eat more ribs.”
“It wasn’t that kind of hunger.”
“Then eat something else.”
Reg stopped trying to explain and just watched him and Starlight as they ate the ribs.