Chapter 3 Siren

Petra looked up immediately when she saw my car enter the shop's courtyard. I could see the worry in her eyes as she wiped her hands clean of oil and rushed over to me. "I heard Aiden committed suicide." Suicide? Far from it. "Aiden's not someone who would kill himself for no reason," I replied as I got out of the car. I glanced at my new car. Well... the car that was damaged in the accident yesterday. "The police came for you?" "They just want to check the car. It was bought by Aiden on your behalf, right?" I nodded. Petra rubbed my back I really didn't want to worry Petra. She shouldn't be involved in this. Even so, I didn't want to lie to her either. "Are you from the police station?" I nodded, though in the end I used chanting to get them to let me go. "They made a special investigation team. Too many people are committing suicide with the same method, so they're worried that someone is manipulating these people. You know. Serial killers or something. Or someone is distributing drugs that cause hallucinations. Either way, they suspect someone is behind it all." "But, Aiden is not someone who is easily manipulated. Damn it. Aiden is the most arrogant and stubborn person I've ever met. It's hard to think he was influenced to take his own life." I refrained from frowning. Perhaps influencing Aiden with mere psychological words would be impossible, but with Siren chants? Damn. Aiden was a person who craved touch. He didn't say it or show that tendency in his daily behavior, but the arrogant human fucked like he was worshipping his partner's body. He was a touch-hungry human. Hence, it was very easy to use singing on him. Unfortunately. That tendency led Aiden to his death. That chant. There was another Siren who killed him, but it was impossible for me to talk about this to anyone else. After all, Aiden and I had only been dating for three days. That was only because I was planning to drain his money. Aiden's death, with that damn phone call, or not, was none of my business. What the Siren does to people is also none of my business. However, if they get their hands on Marie, Richard, or Petra-or any of the people whose deaths would cause them grief I vow to make her feel the same way she did to her victims. However, the question is whether I can fight it? Doubtful. I've never been in a fight. All this time I've only used my singing as a weapon. However, will singing have any effect on Siren? If it does, what if my singing is weaker? Damn. Fighting her will only lead me to my own grave. "Just..." I muttered a chant. I grabbed Petra's shoulder slowly. Our height difference was enough to make Petra look up. "Don't even think about it, Petra! What if we talk about the mob-" I gasped when someone on a big motorcycle stopped in front of us. He was wearing a helmet that covered his entire face, but as soon as he opened the glass of his helmet, I choked up. "Damn-" It's totally unfair because he looks like the male lead in my favorite novel out into the real world. "Hello, Birdie!" "Your presence is not expected here, Kendoll." Petra raised one eyebrow. "Why are you two already calling each other nicknames?" "It's not like that." I pushed Petra playfully. "Looks that way." She answered. I rolled my eyes. Luckily, Petra's attention was soon diverted when a customer entered her workshop. "Come in!" Kenneth's eyes did not glance at her at all. "Thank you." He just looked at me deeply. "I guess next time." I bit the inside of my mouth. He must have accused me of doing it. What else would this damn Hunter come to me for except to stop me. I didn't. Stop is too soft a word for this situation. He came to kill me. The old Centaur I met a few years ago had already warned about the encroachment and existence of the hunters. They were a bunch of arrogant bastards who felt much better because of the divine blood flowing in their bodies. They don't really care about whether the creatures they kill actually committed the crimes they accuse them of, the only thing they care about is killing those who threaten the secrecy of mythological creatures. The Gods never came down to the world again, they were just the descendants of the remnants of the Half-Gods. And-strangely-I guess, they don't want the gods to come down to the world either. Whatever conflicts these mythological creatures have with their gods, I don't want to have to deal with them. I have a million problems of my own, and I will not add to that long list with the affairs of the gods. When it was finally Petra, I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "Hop up! Let's move! I want to talk to you." "I didn't do it." Kenneth frowned, looking completely confused. What are the chances of me not doing it so unreasonably for him? "Why?" "Why?" "We can use your car if you're not comfortable on the bike." Oh! I snorted with laughter. "Okay, Golden Retriever. What I mean is that I didn't kill them." "Of course. Duh!" His relaxed and light tone surprised me. "Huh?" "Do you think you can kill them?" "I can." "Mentally?" I couldn't answer her question. "That's what I mean. You're not the only Siren in this world, Birdie." She glanced around, and I remembered, secrecy was like a code of conduct for them. "Let's talk somewhere more... private." "So that you can kill me?" I couldn't see his expression behind the helmet, but from the look in his eyes and tone, I think he took offense. "No." "Who knows? You hunters are so secretive. Being in a crowd like this is part of my defense from you." "Smartass." He muttered. In a more reluctant tone, he said, "I swear on the River Styx, I will not kill you in our conversation today. Satisfied now?" I frowned. "What is it?" "Google it." "No, I'm not. You explain it to me." Kenneth exhaled in exasperation. Did I enjoy upsetting him? Of course you do. He got off the bike and grabbed another full-face helmet that was hanging from the bike, and walked towards me. I was tall enough, but Kenneth was bigger and certainly taller. Add to that his muscles. They weren't the muscles I would see when I went to the gym. Kenneth's muscles were stronger. I couldn't see his scars because he was wearing a jacket and gloves, but the memory of his scars yesterday was still so vivid in my brain. As soon as he stopped in front of me, he put a helmet on me and patted my head with his big hand. "Spread your wings and put your ass on my bike, Birdie. We need to talk." "I don't like being ordered around. Go away and leave me, Kenneth." I don't like it when I can't carry an expression under that damn helmet, but Kenneth sounded amused. "You're not the only creature who uses your mouth as a weapon, Kane. Your singing doesn't work on me." "Why?" He grabbed my elbow gently. "Let's talk, please!"