Dark Siren by Katerina Martinez Page A

unsolicited visit was about before kicking his date to the curb. She didn’t particularly enjoy this thought, nor did she dislike it. At least, she didn’t dislike it any more than the state of the papers and files on Isaac’s desk. She could almost picture the woman shoving everything aside before bending over it.
    Alice turned away from the desk and let her eyes flit from the bookshelves, to the window, and to the large display cabinet filled with strange items. A collection of weapons sat on the shelves—some dated and rusty, some shiny. She spotted a spiked ball, a pair of rusty old tongs, and a glimmering, pristine sword with a black hilt and a ruby red jewel on its oddly small cross guard. For the briefest of instants, Alice thought she saw not just her reflection on the blade, but also Isaacs… and a third, veiled figure.
    “Xiphos,” Isaac said.
    “What?” she asked.
    “It’s the name of the sword—or at least, the type. It’s a Greek sword called a Xiphos. Double edged, the kind they used during the Iron Age. It’s meant for the exhibit.”
    “Oh. It’s kinda beautiful.”
    Isaac nodded, and then asked, “Why are you here?”
    She turned to face him. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here, but I had no choice. I had to come.”
    “Business, I suppose. I didn’t think you were here on a social visit.”
    “Oh no,” she said, plucking the picture she took in the theater out of her jean pocket, “This is definitely not a social call. I’m here about this .”
    Isaac took the picture and examined it. “I want to say that’s a theater.”
    “I took this in the Cinema Royale tonight. It’s empty now, but there was a person sitting there earlier.”
    Isaac’s eyebrows pressed together. “What do you mean?”
    “When I shot the photo, there was a person sitting in that seat right there.”
    “A spirit?”
    “Not quite. I didn’t snap a picture of something dead, I snapped a picture of someone living—someone alive who’s crossed into the other realm. The Reflection.”
    His eyes darted up and locked with hers. “Are you sure about what you’re saying?”
    “I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t.”
    Isaac handed the picture to Alice. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length dark hair then walked across the room, around his desk, and to his seat. “How did it happen?” he asked.
    She enjoyed the way Isaac had ditched the formalities entirely to focus on the matter at hand. There was no warm-up, no need for how-do-you-do’s. Instead he had gotten right to the point, and seemed genuinely interested.
    “I don’t know,” Alice said, “But I think she was taken across.”
    “You think?”
    “It’s hard to say why or for what, but it definitely wasn’t accidental.”
    “The spirits are always hungry for human contact, and they’ll get it where they can.”
    “Sure, but the amount of power necessary to drag a full human across, one who was unwilling and resistant at the time...?” She didn’t like what she had just said and almost cringed after having said it. The circumstances surrounding Emily’s disappearance were starting to seem too familiar, and yet she refused to believe it.
    Isaac clasped his hands in front of his face and tapped his fingers against his lips. “How long has she been gone.”
    “A few days. Maybe as many as three.”
    “Three days is a long time, but time flows differently in the Reflection. It could have been three hours for her.”
    “We have to get her out, Isaac. However long it’s been, if she’s where I think she is, she’s already been gone too long.”
    “And how do you suggest we do that?”
    “You tell me; you’re the Necromancer.”
    “I don’t subscribe to that title. Gives people the wrong impression.”
    “And what impression is that? That you’re an intrusive, pushy Mage with an unhealthy obsession with the past who would dissect his own girlfriend if it meant he could understand the