Shimmering Sands it's the siren's song; she sings for us, sister

The ghostly voice and cries drew her like a specter in the night. Where ever there was crying, there was always Indie. It could not be helped; the vamp was drawn to the vulnerability, the opportunity of it all. There was nothing like a disheartened wolf to tip over and spill information — and though not everything Indie did had an ulterior motive, the habit was hard to break.  

Indie’s golden gaze flashed in the dark, glinting against the sight of the small femme, thrown upon the beach. She knew this woman, this young coquette, as they traveled together with the rest of the Nereides wolves. It was a great, powerful group of women and Indie found herself captivated by the individuality and austerity of their culture. The femme, which Indie remembered being called Kalika, 

“Darling, Darling!” Indie spoke as though she were the forlorn woman’s bigger sister; kind, but with an air of authority. Though Indie were only a year or so older than Kalika, she carried herself as if she had plenty of years on her rap sheet. “What saddens you so?”