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The sun was only just starting to set when I arrived at Angelica’s house. House didn’t even begin to describe it; it was a Spanish style mansion that sat high on a hill with large rocks surrounding it. It was absolutely stunning from the outside. The way it was situated reminded me of the lighthouse.
I could see the ocean in the background, but it wasn’t that close. I got the impression that whoever Angelica was, she didn’t like having neighbors. The next house down was about a half mile away.
As soon as I extended my hand to knock on the front door, someone swung it open for me.
“Hi, Felicia!” Gabby said excitedly. “I’m so happy you decided to come.”
“Me, too,” I replied, smiling at her. I was starting to like Gabby. She was definitely the nicer of my sister’s two friends . . . or sisters, if that’s what they thought of each other as. Crossing my fingers, I hoped that Jasmine wouldn’t be home today. I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with her attitude. It was bad enough knowing that I owed my life to her.
“Scarlett’s upstairs in the powder room,” Gabby went on. “If you want, I can give you a tour of the house.”
Powder room? No one I knew actually had a house fancy enough to have a room that they referred to as a powder room. “Sure,” I agreed, realizing that I was about to see where my sister had been living during all of these years she had been estranged from us.
Gabby led me into the living room, which had Victorian era furniture, sage colored walls that were covered with paintings, and tray ceilings. There was a widescreen TV, which looked sort of out of place in comparison to the elegance of the rest of the room.
Walking through a set of French doors, Gabby said, “And this is the kitchen.”
The kitchen closely resembled many that I’d seen in normal homes, with granite countertops and an island, except I’d never seen one that was so huge before.
Gabby’s flip flops clacked against the hardwood floors as she led me into the dining room. It had one of those incredibly long dining room tables you see in movies where the person who sits at one end seems miles away from the person sitting on the opposite end. There was also a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
Gabby turned to look at me. “This is where we eat when we have guests. And only if they’re human, since we don’t actually have to eat, you know.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you have human guests a lot?”
“Occasionally,” Gabby replied, turning on her heel and opening a door that led us to a tiled room. Inside was the most exquisite wooden spiral staircase I had ever seen.
As we ascended the steps, Gabby pointed at a large portrait of a woman with dark curly brown hair and a blonde woman with an upturned nose, who I couldn’t help but think looked like a snob. “Those are our great ancestors.”
“Oh, are you and Jasmine somehow related?” I asked. I had assumed that they were just friends, but I supposed that I could have been wrong.
Gabby turned to look at me with a confused expression on her face. “We’re sisters. Scarlett’s our sister—and so are you now, too. The people in the portrait are our siren ancestors, not our actual blood relatives. None of us communicate with them anymore.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my feet as I continued to follow Gabby up the stairs. I realized that I had a lot I still needed to learn about being a siren.
“This is my bedroom,” Gabby said, opening the door to reveal a room that looked out of place in this house. The walls were painted a shade of pale pink, and the comforter was Easter egg yellow with light blue and pink polka dots. There were throw pillows in various shapes scattered across the bed.
Gabby’s bedroom wasn’t overly elegant; it looked just like a bedroom for teens that would be featured in JCPenney catalogues. I was pleasantly surprised. It made me feel like Gabby was a normal teenager.
Stepping into the room, I glanced at the large bookcase next to the computer desk. There were books from every genre; I spotted many of the same books that I had grown up reading. “You must like to read,” I commented.
“It helps me pass the time,” Gabby shrugged. “I also have a private bathroom. Actually, we all do. I won’t show you that right now, though. It’s kind of a mess.”
Leading me out of the bedroom, she continued down the hallway. Opening the next door, she said, “This is Jasmine’s bedroom.”
“Oh, um, I don’t really think Jasmine would want me snooping around her bedroom,” I pointed out. “She doesn’t really like me.”
Gabby’s face softened. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you. It’s more complicated than that. There’s a lot that you don’t know yet.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“It’s not my place to tell you,” Gabby said, shaking her head. “I’m sure Angelica or Scarlett or someone will fill you in on it really soon. Don’t worry. Now, aren’t you the least bit curious about what Jasmine’s room looks like?”
Shrugging, I glanced into the doorway. The room was painted a light shade of purple, and her bedding was a soft shade of green. For some reason, I had been expecting something more loud and vibrant—something that would better suit her personality. But her room was, for the most part, calming.
I didn’t go into Jasmine’s room like I did with Gabby’s. It felt like that was a barrier that I just shouldn’t cross—a barrier that I wouldn’t want her to cross if it were my room and she was the one looking inside. I didn’t want to invade her privacy any more than I had to.
“So, where is Scarlett’s room?” I asked Gabby, feeling curious about my sister. Even though I could tell there were things about Scarlett that were still the same—like her love for confetti milkshakes—I didn’t know all that much about my sister. I was kind of curious about what her current bedroom decor taste was like.
“Come on, I’ll show you,” Gabby replied. As she opened the door across the hall from Jasmine’s room, she added in a lower voice, “Don’t tell her, though. Scarlett doesn’t like us going in her room.”
I whispered, “Not much has changed. When we were kids, she made us put tape down the center of our bedroom. For, like, a whole week, I wasn’t allowed on her side. I outsmarted her, though.” I chuckled at the memory. “I realized that she had to cross my side if she wanted to get out of the room. Let’s just say, her master plan to keep me out of her side didn’t last long after that.”
“That sounds like Scar.” Gabby chuckled. “Well, this is her room now.” She pointed her chin into the room, and I tried to contain my excitement.
Scarlett’s bedroom was nicer than both of the other girls’ was. It wasn’t only larger, but it also had a large sitting window. Glancing around the room, I looked for clues that might reveal some part of my sister’s life that I wasn’t yet aware of. I had been expecting pictures of trips to Italy or Hawaii or maybe pictures of her with a boyfriend (even though she could kill him with her voice, sirens dated, too—or at least Gabby had mentioned having a boyfriend once).
The walls were completely white, without any posters or other décor. My sister’s bedding was white—which matched the white throw rug that covered the hardwood floor, and the white dresser and desk, which appeared to be empty except for the white laptop that rested on it.
The room was just like a blank page in my sister’s life; it told me absolutely nothing about her.
“Are you ready to see your bedroom?” Gabby asked from behind me.
I whirled around, quickly forgetting about the plainness of Scarlett’s room. “My room?”
“Oh, no one’s told you yet.” Gabby’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to ruin the surprise, I just figured Scarlett would have mentioned it by now.”
“No, she didn’t,” I replied. “I have a room here?”
“If you want it, yes,” Gabby replied. “You’re welcome to stay here whenever you want.”
“We also expect you to move in with us when you’re ready,” a voice said from behind us.
I turned around to find a woman standing at the top of the staircase, staring back at me intently. Her pale, silky blonde hair fell past her heart-shaped face, over her shoulders, and her silvery gray eyes pierced through mine. It wasn’t the beauty that was radiated from her fair skin or her eyes that I found most unsettling.
What startled me the most was that I recognized her from somewhere. I knew I’d seen her before; I just wasn’t sure where.
“Hello,” the woman said in the most delicate voice I had ever heard. “I’m Angelica.”