Siren Son Novels & Stories

“Sirens don’t cast spells. They don’t chant, they don’t need tools or potions. They sing. And when they do, they bend the world to their will.” My stomach twisted. “This is ridiculous. Siren's haven't existed since the great divide. The war is gone as we have vampires to worry about.” “Is it or someone is just trying to hide their hesitance?” Theo asked, his voice calm. “You’ve heard the song, haven’t you?” I stiffened. Kylan’s smirk faded. “What song?” Theo raised an eyebrow. “The one that plays in her head. The one she can’t stop hearing. The one that she is scared her kids will have.”

Seastorm - A hurricane or tornado over the ocean or sea, strong enough to affect the currents or depths. 16. Sirensong - The effect that happens when Sirenchant is sung, causing all who hear it to be mesmerized as if hypnotized. (See also: sirenchant under languages)

and cross‑referenced it with the Siren files he’d stolen and scraped over the last few months. It popped a match. Not a name. A number. SIREN‑7. Lys’s original designation. His hand tightened into a fist. “Could be any of them,” a cautious voice in his head said. “They built more than one. You’ve seen the files.” He ignored it. There were a hundred siren ghosts in the world. He’d met a few. Broken a few. None of them had the same combination of variables as the one who’d burned his house and his nerves down around him.

Standing in the rusted skeleton of a dry dock was a familiar silhouette. Siren. She wasn't wearing her silver-fox silks. She was clad in greasy overalls, her cybernetic eye covered by a thick leather patch. Beside her sat a "Skimmer"—a low-profile, flat-bottomed boat powered by a manual diesel engine, an ancient beast of iron that emitted no digital signature. "You're late, Thorne," Siren rasped, her voice barely audible over the lapping water. "I had to bypass three automated patrol buoys to get this bucket here. The Circle is tightening. They’re starting to pulse the water with sonar every twenty minutes."

Siren calms down, but she still feels on edge. As we got to the pack house. That bloody red car pulled up behind us. Siren gets agitated again, “Mate.” Siren yells in my mind. I looked over to see who she was talking about. It could be anyone in the car. All the doors open. Lastly, the driver opens his door and steps out of the car. “Mate,” Siren yells again.

The static in my earpiece cuts out entirely, leaving a complete dead silence in my bedroom. The mic link on Eli’s end went dark the second he walked out of range, but every single word spoken in that warehouse is still echoing through my skull like a siren. ​You’re my son, Elias. I need you to choose your family. ​I stand up, smoothing down the front of my silk robe, though my hands are trembling so hard I can barely knot the sash around my waist. The front door of the main house clicks open downstairs, followed by quiet footsteps on the stairs.

“Men are drawn to your calm; you’re the eye of the hurricane. Even my team has fallen at your feet, wanting to slay your dragons and to protect you.” He had the analogy all wrong. She wasn’t the eye of the tempest. She was the storm, wiping out everything in her path, destroying the lives of those she loved. Abby stirred. “You’re comparing me to a monstrous sea nymph—a siren with a flayed soul that sits on a heap of decaying bones and lures any mortal who sails by with a bewitching song. You may be right.” “Baby, no—”

We stood up stiffly from our spots on the cold floor, our thin clothes doing little to protect us from the chill. "Ugh, that damn siren," Serene growled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Staring at her, I can see her eyes flashed with annoyance as she glared at the unknown, her fists clenching at her sides, as if the shrill siren grated on her already frayed nerves, the never-ending alarm a mockery of their captivity, as if she longed to smash the source of that wretched noise, to tear it from the wall and hurl it to the ground in a burst of shattered plastic and broken circuits.

picked up a terrifying new frequency. ​"The Siren is no longer broadcasting data," Lyra reported, her holographic form standing at the very edge of the forward viewport. Her data-gown was now a sharp, warning crimson. "It has pivoted to Solar Induction. Kael, it’s not trying to harvest us anymore. It’s deploying the Sun-Snuffer."

Zoe doesn’t even stir when I place her in the passenger seat, buckle her into the roadrunner, and drive out of the lot. I watch through the rearview mirror as several police vehicles stop in front of the club. I’m in disbelief at what just happened in there. So many humans hurt. And it was all because of Zoe’s Siren song. It makes no sense. Sirens aren’t violent beings. Regardless of what the myths might say, Sirens are actually very rare. They became scarce when they began mating with humans over a thousand years ago. Most siren and human children have little to no power. They tend to be more human. And Sirens, who can sing with the power that Zoe wields, are