Page 6 of Siren’s Secret

Irishen emerged from the crowd. “A stormbringer heir apparent,” he finished Hellion’s sentence. It looked like he wanted to say something else, thought better of it, and kept walking. Marc followed him with his gaze and saw him hurry out the door right after Wayla and Angel-boy.

“What does this mean?” Hazard, who had also found his way to them, asked. “I was eavesdropping and it seems that most didn’t even know that the stormbringers didn’t have an acknowledged heir apparent.”

Something clicked in Marc’s mind. “Wayla’s father. She said he was dead, and she was pretty upset about it.”

Sinister frowned at him, then at Hazard. “We are not speaking another word about this here.”

“You said that already,” Hellion huffed, still fuming. “I don’t—”

“I’ll swear to Lucifer, Hellion, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I will shut it for you.” Sinister’s oath stole the air from Marc and made Hellion jerk. Yeah, swearing to his dear old dad would shut him up tight.

“And on that note, let’s get back to the house,” Grant said behind Marc. “We are starting to gain a bit too much attention.”

Sinister opened a portal and quickly pulled them through.

The living room was deathly quiet after the cacophony of the courthouse faded away. Everyone but Jarred and Justin were present, and no one was saying a word. They all looked expectantly at Sinister, and Marc wondered what the hell, pun intended, could be important enough for him to evoke Lucifer. When the silence stretched even more, Hellion got fed up.

“Well?” he snapped.

Sinister crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Hellion. “All I am saying is that discussing anything Wayla related outside our very well-warded home is a bad idea.”

“I would buy that if you hadn’t brought my dad into this,” Hellion snarled. Sinister’s smile was, well, sinister. He had the nickname for a reason.

“The one you haven’t told Wayla anything about.”

“All right, you two. Don’t start.” Grant tried to step in, but Hellion ignored his peace effort.

“It’s none of her gods damned business.”

Sinister hummed. “You’re right. It’s not. Like her life is not any of your hell damned business.”

“But—” Marc started and then fell silent.

“Of course it is!” Hellion roared, and the room temperature rose with his ire.

“The Sleethill spawn may have been wrong on many, many things, but he was right about her. It’s none of your business what she’s hiding or why,” Sinister spat, not cowering back even a little bit. He usually didn’t go toe to toe with Hellion, but this time was different. Marc narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why.

“And that’s the sign for the rest of us to head out,” Grant said and started ushering the rest of them out. Marc refused to budge. “No talking about Wayla outside of these walls,” Grant added and threw a glance at Sinister, who nodded back at him.

Hellion rounded on Sinister. “You know something. Something besides the little revelation we all just got.”

Sinister looked at him like he was an idiot and a slow one at that. “And why do you think I’m so adamantly not talking about it?”

Something in Marc’s brain pinged and he rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache. And the worry that started niggling at him. “Whatever it is, it puts her in danger?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sinister said.

Hellion groaned. “She’s an heir apparent. Of course she’s in danger. She just became a major player, the heir to one of the most powerful clans.”

“It’s not that,” Marc said slowly, eyes glued on Sinister. “How—”

Sinister shook his head sharply and that stopped Marc in his tracks. Sinister looked way too serious as his eyes turned black, the demon surging to the forefront.

“Sinister?” Hellion asked softly. “What are you not saying?”

He shuddered once and his eyes dulled back to their usual deep blue. “Leave it be, Hellion,” he replied and just walked out.

They stood there, staring after him until Marc broke the silence.