Biting her lip to steel herself against the pain, she sliced the blade down her finger. As soon as the blood started flowing, she held her finger over the scroll and squeezed it, dripping it down on the words.
Quickly, she picked up the jar and poured a little bit of water over the blood. The words began to glow brighter than she’d seen them before, and using her cut finger, she smeared the blood and water together, pushing it deeper into the paper.
The words continued to glow for a few more seconds, but then they just faded back to normal. Truthfully, Gemma hadn’t expected anything much different. The mixture that Penn had used to turn Gemma into a siren had been the blood of a siren, the blood of a mortal, and the blood of the ocean.
She had the siren and ocean part covered. Now all she needed was a mortal, and, fortunately, she thought she knew of one who would be eager to give up her blood. Gemma pulled out her phone and quickly wrote a text.
Within ten minutes of sending Marcy the message, her friend was knocking at the front door. While she’d been waiting for her, Gemma had tried an experiment with just her blood, and although she hadn’t expected it to work, she had to give it a shot.
When Gemma answered the front door, Marcy was standing on the front step, and Kirby stood on the step below her, offering her a sheepish smile when Gemma looked at him in surprise.
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were bringing Kirby,” Gemma said.
“We were hanging out, so I thought he’d tag along,” Marcy explained. “Besides, you said it was an emergency.”
“I never said it was an emergency. I asked if you could come over real quick,” Gemma corrected her. “But thanks for being so speedy.”
“Is it a problem that I’m here?” Kirby asked. “I can leave or go wait in Marcy’s car or something.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but I had kind of a … personal favor for Marcy,” Gemma tried to explain, and gave him an apologetic smile.
“Is this about feminine hygiene?” Marcy asked.
“What? No. Ew.” Gemma shook her head. “No, this is about the … scroll.”
“You’re talking about the whole siren thing?” Kirby asked.
Gemma was taken aback. “You told him?”
Marcy shrugged. “Yeah, Kirb’s cool. If he can’t handle the stuff I’m into, then we couldn’t hang out. So I had to tell him about it, and he passed the test.”
“Are you sure you’re really cool with the whole siren thing?” Gemma asked Kirby, ignoring Marcy’s assurances that he could handle all things supernatural. “Because it’s gonna get even weirder.”
“Yeah, I think I can tough it out.” He nodded eagerly, and Marcy gave him a smile of approval.
“Okay,” Gemma said, since she couldn’t argue with that. “Because I need some blood.”
“Does it need to be a certain type? Because I’m O positive,” Marcy said, then pointed her thumb at Kirby. “And Kirby is AB positive.”
“How do you know his blood type?” Gemma asked.
“I’m very thorough when I vet the people I hang out with,” Marcy said.
“Very thorough,” Kirby added with wide eyes and a heavy sigh.
“No, it doesn’t matter what type.” Gemma stepped back from the door and motioned for them to come in. “Let’s get inside. I feel strange talking about blood on the front stoop.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcy said.
“The blood just has to be mortal, but I’m not even entirely sure how much I’ll need,” Gemma admitted, as Marcy and Kirby followed her into the kitchen. Kirby surveyed the mess in the kitchen and did his best to look unruffled, while Marcy didn’t even bat an eye.
“Should we be breaking into a blood bank?” Marcy suggested.
“I thought I’d start with a drop or two from you, then take it from there,” Gemma said.
“All right. Do you have a sharp knife?” Marcy asked.
“Aren’t you even gonna ask what it’s about?”
“I’m gonna go out on a limb, but I’m guessing it’s about breaking the curse,” Marcy said dryly, and gestured to the scroll on the table. “But if you wanted to elaborate, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Harper told me about her professor thinking the ink was made of blood,” Gemma said as she went over to the kitchen drawer to grab a new steak knife. “Then Harper told me that Lydia thought that made sense, since the curse was usually written in something that pertained to it. And then, finally, it’s so obvious—the way to break the curse is the curse itself.”
“Okay, right. That makes sense.” Marcy nodded. “So … you’re turning the paper into a siren?”
“I’ll use the methodology for it. I became a siren by drinking a potion—blood of a mortal, blood of a siren, and blood of the sea.”
“What’s the blood of the sea?” Kirby asked.
Gemma lifted up the mason jar to show him. “Just water.”