Short fiction complete, p.122
Oblivion's Siren : Dark, Addictive Paranormal Romance (Lost Siren Series Book 7), page 122
OBLIVION’S SIREN
LOST SIREN
# 7
STEPHANIE HUDSON
HUDSON INDIE INK
Oblivion’s Siren
Lost Siren #7
Copyright © 2024 Stephanie Hudson
Published by Hudson Indie Ink
www.hudsonindieink.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it wasn’t purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without explicit permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorised, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Oblivion’s Siren/Stephanie Hudson– 1st ed.
.
DEDICATION
To every single one of you who picked up this book and chose to stay,
Thank you. Truly.
Thank you for falling in love with flawed characters, for arguing over the things they do, for sending me messages that made me laugh, cry, and sometimes stare at the screen in disbelief that these words reached you the way they did. Your support is not something I take lightly. It means more than I can properly put into words.
You are the reason I keep writing.
With all my eternal love
Stephanie
Happy Reading
WARNING
This book may contain triggering themes and subject matter that may be difficult for some readers.
CONTENTS
1. Visions of Oblivion
2. Summoning Disaster
3. Demon be Gone
4. Diamonds Aren’t Forever
5. Chance Meeting
6. Conversations in Limbo
7. Into Oblivion
8. Dark Domain
9. Oh, Lordy Be
10. Escaping Oblivion
11. The Weapon of Hope
12. Dear Goddess
13. A Devil’s Love
14. The Law of Fate
15. When the Fly Welcomes the Spider
16. The Do Over
17. The Price of Praise
18. Ultimatum
19. Goodbye Simple Life
20. The Test
21. Forbidden Desires
22. Killer Instincts
23. Challenging Control
24. Frogs and Cages
25. Protecting Foolish Fears
26. Anything
27. Portraits of a Ruler
28. Permanent Guest
29. Shared Space
30. Not Ready
31. The Unexpected
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Stephanie Hudson
Other Hudson Indie Ink Authors
1
VISIONS OF OBLIVION
ELIZA
“Ican do this… I can do this,” I mumbled to myself as I walked the last few blocks toward my office building. I was glad I had decided to get up at the crack of dawn to get ready for this meeting and doing so early enough that I could get to the office with plenty of time to go over my presentation.
I had been working for months on this campaign, and it was finally my time to show my boss that I had what it took to join the big leagues. But honestly, I loved my job, and I had always wanted to work in advertising. Especially as I always seemed to have a knack for selling things. I remembered even in the schoolyard, I would be able to get kids to swap my ‘healthy’ but gross (to a kid) pot of home-made hummus and carrot sticks for Twinkies. Selling the lie that they had a magic ingredient that made you grow.
Of course, it helped that everyone in the small town of Morro Bay knew my adoptive mother as the undeniably quirky and most definitely eccentric town witch. Seriously, by the end of first grade, I was selling that shit for more than just candy. I was trading it for as much junk food as I could stash in my locker. It was, no doubt, what the cosmos called karma, as the only reason I was currently five foot four inches was thanks to my sort-of comfortable, two-inch heels. The exchange of sugar for calcium hadn’t helped my height, but it had certainly kick-started my unhealthy addiction to candy.
Should have eaten your veggies, Eliza, I thought as I looked down at my beige heels and already wishing I had worn my sneakers. I could have changed back into heels at the office like I usually did on my daily forty-minute walk to work, so I didn’t know why I hadn’t planned for that today.
Shaking my head and looking toward the path ahead, I continued to think back to my childhood. I knew that growing up in what most described as being ‘the kid who lived in the creepy house at the end of the street’ didn’t always work for me. Especially not with the last name, Shadowmere. But then being adopted by a witch also didn’t go in my favor for gaining cool points, at least not when high school came around.
No, then I was just known as the weird kid.
That’s when the bullying really started, and it was the reason I loathed bullies now.
Eventually, I was no longer the only Shadowmere girl in town when my mom adopted my younger sister, so I no longer cared what they said about me. However, if they said anything about my sister, then I was like a bull ready to charge at the stupid guy waving a silky red curtain.
My sister, Sabrina (yes, named after the TV teenage witch) became my world. She had only been eight months old when my mom, Agnes, adopted her. I had been seven years old and practically treated her like my own.
People often asked me if I was sad that I didn’t know who my real family was or upset that I had been dumped as a baby on the steps of a church. But then I would always reply, why would I be sad when I was chosen to be cared for and loved by someone who clearly did want to be a mom? Someone who wanted to give me that life, one filled with love and attention? So, of course, I would pick them over someone who clearly didn’t want me. I would pick them any day of the week.
Agnes had given me everything and had made my world fun and full of excitement. Of course, there were more unconventional parenting moments to contend with. Like dancing in a white dress on my sixteenth birthday around a campfire in the garden. Something that may have gotten slightly out of hand and ended up with the neighbors calling the fire brigade.
There was also the smelly bag of herbs I had to carry hanging under my dress at prom so as to ward off any grabby hands that might come my way. Of course, she had been convinced her spell worked, despite my trying to point out that the reason was most likely more down to the fact that smelling of wet grass and an Italian restaurant wasn’t ever going to make me popular with the boys.
There were so many times like that in my life and, to be honest, I wouldn’t have changed a single one. No matter how quirky or how ‘unconventional’ they were. The house was filled with love and laughter, and I wouldn’t have changed a single second of it for all the world.
Although, right now, I would have gone for any number of smelly spell bags if it would have helped me with my nerves. I had been working for Total Point Media for six years now, and this was the first time I had felt closer to that much-deserved step up the corporate ladder. I was an assistant art director and all-round dogs’ body for Debbie, my boss. But Debs was still recovering from a skiing accident where she had taken a nasty fall and one bad enough to break quite a few bones, including her pelvis.
So, with no one to take her place, I’d been given the chance to make my mark, and I was hoping it was now my time to shine.
And with that, it meant I was now wearing my new ‘I mean business but wanna look cute doing it’ cream wrap dress. One that I think complimented my curves and hid the slight over-hanging panty podge of belly that I would often poke at when standing in front of the mirror. Telling it off like a naughty child and threatening that I would be putting it on a diet soon. Then I would feel bad, eat a donut, and hence the evil cycle would ensue as I reminded myself that I was single and therefore, why should I care?
As for the rest of me, I had styled my honey-blonde, shoulder-length hair pin-straight, taming my natural waves that usually caused it to flick out all over the place. I was currently growing out the bob style I had foolishly let my hairdresser talk me into, and I was very much looking forward to the day I no longer had to straighten it just to tame the beast.
Now, as for my makeup, I had gone subtle, using my fall colors palette to match my light brown eyes that had flecks of green in them. Thankfully, I had been blessed with thick enough lashes that I didn’t have to use mascara, and the length was long enough that they tickled the bridge of my eyelid. Sabrina often tried
But these long, doll-like lashes also meant that my one and only attempt at adding black liner and those super sassy-looking flicks at the ends had only ended in me looking like a Picasso painting. Hence why I didn’t try it again.
For my lips, I had chosen a nude lip gloss that had a sheen of gold flecks. This helped in making them look more even, as my top lip was thinner than my plumper bottom one. Now, my skin I would never complain about, as I had a natural tan. All I needed was to highlight my cheeks with a little bronzer, so that it added some more dimension to my face.
Thus, this completed my morning ritual, doing all of this while talking to myself and convincing myself that I could nail my presentation. Something I felt ready for… well, that was until I turned a corner and walked straight into a teenager on a skateboard. One who thought drinking coffee on wheels was a good idea. Turned out it wasn’t… for me.
“AHH!” I screamed the second the coffee exploded all down the front of my dress, making it now look as if I had showered in cappuccino.
“Whoa, dude, watch it!” the punk on a skateboard said, as if I was the problem in this scenario, and him losing his coffee was the worst thing that could have happened to him today.
Well, he had no idea what his coffee had just cost me.
“Asshole!” I shouted back in return as he made off down the sidewalk. I couldn’t help but wish that I'd pushed him off the thing and used it as a weapon to knock some sense into his weed-smoking head!
“Fuck! Fuckkkkk!” I moaned, gaining some strange looks from bystanders and, in return, I pointed at my coffee-soaked tits like this was enough to explain my moment of fuckery.
I would have cursed for Jesus Christ’s sake if I had believed in him, but alas, no, not thanks to my pagan upbringing. Now, as for cursing the Horned God, yep, that was more my family’s style.
And speaking of family…
“Sabrina!” I looked down the street and knew that my mother’s shop was only a ten-minute drive away. ‘The Littlest Witching Hour’ was my mom’s baby and was named this because, admittedly, we were all short.
So, after hailing down a cab and giving the grumpy bald guy an address, ten minutes later, I was freaking out with an audience.
“What am I going to do? The meeting is in an hour and look at me!” I cried dramatically, without the tears, as the last thing I wanted to do was add a sad, crying face to the mess that was my dress.
My sister gave me a sympathetic look, one that made her look even younger than her twenty years. She currently had her hair in two messy bunches on top of her head, giving her a cute Mickey Mouse vibe. A vibe made bright and colorful, thanks to this month’s choice of hair color being cosmic blues, purples, and turquoise.
This matched her bright makeup framed above the eye with lines of gold, and painted stars at the corners of her aqua eyes. Her usual punk gothic attire consisted of her black denim shorts over fishnet tights. She also wore bright pink knee-high socks and a striped pink-and-black sleeved sweater that was frayed at the edges. Let’s just say that Sabrina had most definitely adopted our mother’s affinity for everything supernatural. Hence why she worked with Agnes at her store for the weird and wonderful.
As for me, well, I had gone down a different path. Not so much denying all I was brought up to believe in, but not exactly embracing it, either. Although Agnes didn’t mind because she believed everyone had their own path to follow. Hence why she was currently in New Orleans, visiting another Coven and running a course on Herbology for them.
Goddess, but how I missed my mom as she would have known exactly what to do and what to say in this moment to calm me down. Although Sabrina was definitely a close second.
“Calm down, Lily-pad, I am sure we can find you something… In fact, we had this new shipment in of dresses, let me just go get them from the back… not to worry, we will have you sorted in no time,” she said in her usual chipper, ‘the world can’t get me down’ tone. One that, unfortunately, didn’t exactly fill me with confidence, especially not when I scanned the shop and saw the section of clothing that only had one style in mind… Gothic.
That aside, the use of my family nickname helped soothe me, and one born for obvious reasons, as I loved the flower. That, and the way I believed each one was special enough that they needed their own island in the pond to grow on when I was a kid. Or next to, but hey, my version sounded way better.
But getting back to the alternative clothing at ‘The Littlest Witching Hour’, I knew finding something suitable to wear was going to be tricky, even though there was certainly a lot to choose from. Because my mom knew that the only way to keep this precious shop going was to offer items that would sell. And well, bunches of sage and crystal pendulums wasn’t it. Which was why the shop was sectioned the way it was. With clothing and gothic apparel at the back, witchy paraphernalia at the front, and a shit load of candles in between. These were another bestseller, especially the black pillar candles that bled crimson and were aptly named A Vampire’s Tears.
As for the rest of the shop, it was as you would have imagined a witch’s shop to look like. Tapestries covered most of the free wall space. These depicted everything from the Triple Goddess, cycles of the moon, giant pentagrams, and the Tree of Life. All of which you could purchase, of course, just like everything else my mom kept on display. Glass cases filled with stunning crystals, elaborate goblets, and a collection of fantasy figurines of dragons and other mythological creatures I had always been fascinated with as a kid.
The clothing part of the shop was the only section that lacked any real color. The walls were painted black and decorated with moon-shaped mirrors, coffin-shaped shelving, and 3D bats surrounding the frame where two curtained changing rooms were. Oh, and let’s not forget the rails of black clothes that were constantly being restocked.
Which meant I was not surprised when my sister brought out an armful of black fabric, and I mentally prayed that there was something suitable among the folds. However, it turned out that, no matter how hard I prayed to all the deities I knew, nothing would save me from walking into that meeting looking like I had lost my mind. That, or I had suddenly decided to become a goth overnight.
“What about this one?”
“I am not sure skulls and coffins are gonna help when making a pitch to a health food company advertising their new protein shake or the forever young skin cream campaign I’m also working on. Or say, the need to buy diamonds when you're dead, which is what my first pitch is for.”
My sister chuckled before agreeing.
“Yeah, I see your point… okay, so what about this one? It’s not all black, but it just has these cute runes and symbols all over it… and hey, isn’t that what Louis Vuitton does?”
I had to laugh at this before informing her,
“I’m not sure a print of LV and flowers constitutes as being demonic in nature… despite how much they charge for their bags,” I grumbled knowing all I would ever be able to afford was the knock off ones I got from some dodgy guy on the street.
“Did you know that the four-petal flower symbolizes joy and was designed by Georges-Louis Vuitton in 1896?”
I yelped in surprise when Nate spoke from seemingly out of nowhere. He was a tall, gangly guy who was the very last person you expected to find working in a witch’s shop. He was wearing a tweed suit, for one, and with it, he had thought a yellow shirt and little red bow-tie would match the green suit. He was also fabulously gay, dressed in impeccable suits five days of the week, and had more dresses in his closet for the weekend than my sister and I did combined. Of course, his name also changed to Natalie Bighorn, and he was often seen singing his lungs out to Dolly Parton at the Rainbow Bridge nightclub every Saturday night.
He was also utterly fabulous in every way.
Which was no doubt why he knew everything there was to know about fashion, so the information he just gave me wasn’t what had surprised me. No, it was him suddenly appearing right behind me from where I was leaning against the front counter.
