The reporter had picked up on the dead boys in Capri and wrote a little about the brutal murders of four teenage boys. But the story wasn’t about the murders so much as why nobody was covering them.

Even Harper had to agree that the story had been largely ignored. Other than a few local reporters, she hadn’t seen much in the way of media. Which seemed odd, especially since they were labeling it as the work of a serial killer.

The article went on to name several high-profile murder cases that all involved beautiful young women, then speculated why this case, which consisted of multiple murders, garnered so little attention. The writer of the article clearly thought there was some kind of gender bias involved.

Harper was just about to ask Daniel why he wanted her to read this when she realized the answer was in the last few paragraphs.

The murders no longer appear isolated in Maryland. Just yesterday, in a small seaside community 45 minutes south of Myrtle Beach, a young man was found murdered in much the same fashion as the previous victims in Capri.

Thirty-three-year-old Jason Way was found with his chest cavity ripped open in an alleyway outside a busy restaurant. Despite the heinous nature of the crime, no witnesses have come forward as having heard or seen anything.

With this fifth murder of a young man, perhaps the media will start giving these serial killings the coverage they deserve. So far, however, that seems unlikely. Local authorities in South Carolina are hesitant to connect this murder with the previous ones in Maryland.

Jason Way also has a long history of domestic violence, sexual harassment, and a rape conviction, so retribution from previous victims hasn’t been ruled out, a representative for the police force has said.

For now, mothers need to watch out for their sons, because it seems that nobody else is going to.

“Oh, my gosh,” Harper said, exhaling shakily after she finished reading. “That’s them, isn’t it? This has to be the sirens.”

Daniel nodded. “I think so. I mean, that guy sounds like he might have been a douche, so it could be some kind of copycat killing. But it’s worth checking out, at least.”

“When is this paper from?” Harper flipped to the front with shaking hands to check the date.

“It’s from today,” Daniel answered.

“So that guy, he was really killed yesterday?” Harper pushed her bangs back from her forehead and tried to think, but her mind was racing too fast. “They might still be there. Gemma might be there. How far away is it?”

“Myrtle Beach is about a ten-and-a-half-hour drive from here,” Daniel said. “So a little over eleven hours, if we hurry.”

“Do you know what town that was?” Harper looked back at the paper, scanning the article to see if it had named the exact town where the body had been found.

“I Googled it on my phone before I came here,” Daniel said. “It’s right on the coast. We should have no problem finding it.”

“Good.” Harper nodded, then she realized what he had said. “You’re coming with?”

“Well, duh,” Daniel said, like it should be obvious. “I saw what those sirens are capable of. There’s no way I’m letting you go up against them alone.”

She wanted to argue with him, but he had a point. She needed all the help she could get if she wanted to rescue Gemma.

She smiled gratefully at him, but that was all she had time for. They needed to hurry if they wanted to catch the sirens before they moved on.

“I’m taking off, Marcy,” Harper said as she walked toward the front door.

“Wait!” Marcy stood up, and when Harper turned back to her, she saw Marcy holding her purse outstretched toward her. “You probably need your car keys and stuff.”

Harper ran back and grabbed her purse. “Thanks, Marce. And sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Marcy shrugged it off. “Just go get her. And be careful.”

NINETEEN

Warning

Gemma hated how good she felt when she woke up. The effects of feeding yesterday hadn’t worn off. If anything, they’d only grown stronger. Her body was like liquid. Every movement she made was smooth and fluid, and she felt like she was gliding everywhere she went.

When she got out of bed, she actually danced around the room, unable to help herself. And while she’d never had any formal training of any kind, she moved like a ballet dancer. As if elegance had suddenly become part of her DNA.

She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that she was glowing. She could feel it. Her skin was positively luminous.

And despite her best efforts to feel guilty and mourn the loss of the man she’d murdered yesterday, her sirenness was at full blast, and happiness radiated through her.

The sadness was still there, because she had done something absolutely horrific and could never forgive herself for it. But it was buried down deep inside her, hidden with the rest of her negative emotions that the new siren powers didn’t want her to feel.

She went down the stairs two steps at a time, simply because she felt like it, and nearly bumped into Sawyer, who was standing at the bottom.

“Good morning, Gemma,” he said, sounding even more dazed than usual. He looked almost awed by her beauty, and Gemma felt a sharp pang of self-loathing that she had that effect on him. Or any guy, for that matter.

“Morning,” she replied, smiling at him anyway.

She was pleased to find that the insatiable lust she’d been feeling for him had disappeared. Sure, she still thought Sawyer was attractive, but she had absolutely no urge to jump him.