Siren's Song

That night on the rooftop was four years ago. I’d spent all my time since then… working for my father. Yeah, he was crazy, but he was my father. He was the only one who accepted my gift. The only one who didn’t cast me aside. For that alone, I would do anything for him. He was all I had.

Just because I liked my dad, however, didn’t mean I liked the idiots he had working for him. Take, for example, the obnoxious red-and-black-clad jester currently bouncing up and down on my bed trying to get me up. I’d finally had enough, and shot up, knocking her off of the bed in the process.

“What, Harley?”

“My, my, Bells. Why so serious?” I turned my attention away from Harley, to my father, whom I hadn’t noticed, standing by the door. I stretched and pushed my blankets aside, rising to join him.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“I’m sure you are,” he replied, with more sarcasm than I thought necessary.

“Okay, so I’m not. But it’s her fault. I was resting.”

“That’s not fair!” Harley piped up. “I was bored and wanted something to do!”

“When did that become my problem?” Before she could reply,Daddy the Joker cut her off.

“Girls.” That one word held enough warning for me to know that I should just drop it. I sighed angrily before stepping back into the room and motioning to the two of them to get out.

“If you don’t mind, I have to change.” They left, with Harley Quinn talking Dad’s ear off the whole way.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve never hated Harley. She just annoys me. But aside from the fact that she reminds me of a four year old, her obsessive devotion to my father was more than a little bit creepy. As I was the only other girl around, she constantly came to me when she was bored - which was most of the time.

When I was done changing - nothing fancy, just jeans and a tee shirt that happened to hug in all the right places - I walked out of the room. I was met almost immediately by a figure with a flawless perfection that was obviously inhuman. Male, but with a feminine delicacy and grace. I smiled.

“Hello, Muse.”

“Good morning, Mistress.”

Yes, this was my Muse, the living embodiment of my music. All Sirens have one. All Sirens must, to be a Siren.

I’ll go more into that later.

I turned left when I exited my room, Muse close behind, going to the main room of the warehouse that we called our home. I was no longer as intrigued by the strange décor. It had become a part of everyday life. Nor was I remotely concerned to have to step over a dead guard to get into the living room. I looked over at the couch, where Harley sat, half upside down, staring at the television.

“Let me guess - he wouldn’t hand you the remote?”

“Right-a-rooni!” I cringed. Her vocabulary shredded the nerves of any grammar education I had ever received, which really was no farther than high school level, but that’s beyond the point.

“I’m assuming Daddy’s in his office?”

“Yep!”

“And he hasn’t told anyone of any plans?”

“Nope!”

“So there’s nothing to do?”

“Yep!”

“Well, in that case, I’m going to Ivy’s,” I declared as I walked out of the room. I was tired of sitting around, and I much preferred Ivy’s company to Harley’s.

So, sliding on a pair of sunglasses as I stepped out into the sunlight that seemed so harsh in comparison to the dim warehouse, I set out to pay a visit to an old friend.