Portia’s shock began to transform into full-fledged fear.
“So what?” she attempted, “You could put anybody’s picture on one of those sites, right? And maybe I just didn’t remember because…because…” But her words trailed off into the abyss of the inexplicable.
“Don’t you see, Portia, all those links, all that storytelling, the appearance of Marsyas—well, that was actually Athena who shifted her shape into Marsyas’s form for purposes of the story. After all, he was the first to notice the evil in my sisters. It ruined him for his whole life—it was such a shame, too, because he was so gifted. But the rest was all me.”
“I can’t believe that
you’re
the cyberbully—”
“Oh, I don’t know if I would use the word ‘bully.’ You know RPA has a strict anti-bullying policy.”
Portia was incredulous. “Have you been, like, reading all my e-mails? Spying on my conversations?”
“No, I would never do that—well, wait, I did have to intercept the paper you e-mailed to Mr. Morrison. Sorry about the B-, by the way—I told you, I’m just not a Homer fan.”
“This is not happening. You’re crazy, Ms. Leucosia. You really think that I’m some kind of immortal God? And by immortal, I mean, like
immortal
? You’re telling me that I’m never going to die?!”
“Portia, it is both the blessing and the curse of the Gods to live a life of immortality. Many a God has perished, but never in the ways that humans die. There is no illness, no aging, no starvation. There is only death at the hands of another immortal, or in our case, drowning in the open sea.”
“So what’s going to happen to me? This is it? I’m going to remain a sixteen-year-old for the rest of my life?” Her voice was shrill, a sieve leaking out fear and desperation.
“Well, not exactly.” The nurse’s lack of hysteria only reinforced the verity of her words. “You have more or less reached your physical peak. However, as the powers of your voice continue to unfurl, your physical beauty will increase. So, too, as you gain wisdom—the wisdom that inevitably comes to all Gods and Goddesses—your physical person will develop something of an agelessness. I mean, think about it, has it ever occurred to you that you’ve known me for years, and I have not shown any signs of aging?”
Portia kept shaking her head, trying to block out the well-rehearsed tale that was being flung at her by this apparent psychopath.
Leucosia took Portia’s hand, a natural motherly gesture.
“Portia, when I was in your dream the other day—”
“—my what?”
“Yes, well then, I’m so sorry about that. I promise not to make a habit out of it, but I was so worried for you the other day when you came into my office and described your dreams to me. With a little help from Morpheus—remember I mentioned him? The God of Dreams? Well, with his help, I traversed into your dream to see if my sisters were indeed trying to—what is it you kids say—oh yes, mess with your mind. Anyway, I realized that their jealousy and resentment has not waned at all over these many years. They believe that I usurped the love of our mother for my own, and apparently the murder of my mortal lover, Nereus, was not enough to sate their desire for revenge—”
Portia had begun to cry, offering intermittent pleas between sobs for Ms. Leucosia to stop playing games with her.
“Why would you taunt me like this?” she petitioned the beautiful nurse. “What have I ever done to you?”
Leucosia took Portia’s heart-shaped face into her hands, brushing away her tears, which unsurprisingly had begun to show traces of silver.
“That’s precisely the point, Portia. Why would I make any of this up? I have known you since you were a small child. I have watched you grow into a beautiful young woman. Why on earth would I want to hurt you, Portia?”
Portia continued to cry. “But why me of all people? What makes me so special?” The questions tasted sour on her tongue, knowing that they somehow leant credibility to the story.
“Ahhh. That is an excellent question. One which I have sought an answer for over many years until one day Athena explained to me that the next Siren will only be born out of a love as pure as the one I shared with Nereus. A love that defies the odds. A love that is usually reserved for fairy tales.”
Portia wished her limbs were not paralyzed by Ms. Leucosia’s enchanting voice. She needed to get away now. Before her parents were dragged into this madness.
“Portia, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that your parents are ridiculously, wholeheartedly, and wonderfully in love with one another. So much so that when Aphrodite caught wind of them—she’s the Goddess of Love—she ventured a guess that you would be arriving imminently.”
These words, so undeniably true, only furthered Portia’s confusion. She would have done anything for any of her friends—Charlotte, Jacqueline, Max, Felix, oh God, Felix—to come out back and save her from the maddening story, which to her great horror so snugly fit as the missing pieces to the puzzle that her life had become. She was running on fumes. Exhausted, confused, noxious fumes. She needed time, a good night’s sleep, and some clarity of mind so that she could decide if what Ms. Leucosia was telling her could even be remotely possible.
Through all of her skepticism, one question did continue to coil its way around her mind. She weighed the pros and cons of asking it, knowing that she probably didn’t want to hear the answer.
Finally she garnered her courage.
“Ms. Leucosia—”
Leucosia interrupted her:
“I think you can start calling me just Leucosia, dear. The ‘Ms.’ seems kind of formal considering our circumstances.”
“OK, Leucosia. Let’s say I am this Siren you’ve been waiting for. What exactly do your sisters want from me?”
Leucosia had been asking herself the same question over and over.
“I’m not sure yet, dear. But I’m sure it’s nothing good.” Leucosia looked down at the pavement as she spoke these words.
Portia scrutinized the flawless face of the alleged three-thousand-year-old Goddess.
“What is it? What are you not telling me?”
Leucosia looked back up at her charge and hesitated before detonating the final bomb.
“I think they want you to kill Max Hunter…”
Portia had ignored her texts during the ludicrous exchange with Leucosia, but her phone kept signaling her, and finally she decided to plug back into the real world. The world that actually did exist.
She had about a million missed calls and texts from Helena. “Portia, where are you? I’m worried about you! Dean Fein was in a terrible accident. We’re all here at the Feins helping them prepare to fly out to Canada. Where are you? Felix needs you, and we need to talk. That was crazy at the Café—what I saw, what I heard! Where r u??”
“Oh, shit!” she said aloud.
“What is it?”
“Leucosia, I need you to drive me over to Felix’s house.”
Without a moment’s hesitation the two women followed the alley back out to the street and got into Leucosia’s car, Portia explaining the little she knew about what had happened to Dean Fein.
“Dean and Felix are like brothers. Oh God. Oh God. I knew he shouldn’t have gotten that dirt bike. I told Felix…”
Driving in silence for a couple of minutes, Portia had a sudden epiphany.
“I should be able to save him, right? If I’m really what you say I am, Leucosia, then my voice should be able to save Dean, right?”
Leucosia’s eyes remained fixed on the road.
“Portia, it is not within our powers to save the lives of mortals. If it was, I would have saved so many…”
“Come on, Leucosia, can’t you call in a favor with one of your God friends? Maybe the dream guy, Morpheus, knows someone? Or Athena? Maybe she has a few connections?” She could feel herself poking holes in Leucosia’s obscene story, and it felt good. For a minute she had actually been caught up in the twisted fairy tale.
“Portia, you cannot change what is written by the Gods. The best you and I can do right now is hope that Felix’s cousin is strong enough to pull through.”
They pulled up in front of the Fein house, and Portia leapt out of the car. She leaned into the open window.
“Thanks for nothing, Leucosia. You know, that place where Max’s father is staying might have an opening for you—‘Havenhurst,’ I think it’s called. Why don’t you use your magical voice to book yourself a room there?”
She couldn’t believe the cruelty that was spewing out of her own mouth. But she couldn’t stop it either. And the unflinching look on Leucosia’s face only spurred her on. “I’ll buy you a Kindle before you go, and you can download all the Greek Mythology you want. Maybe you’ll even find Nereus and Melina again.” At the mention of the names of her lost loved ones, Leucosia’s eyes released a creamy silver liquid.
Portia turned on her heel and swatted her own tears away with the back of her hands. She needed to be strong now for Felix.
Just as she turned the knob, she caught her reflection in the brass doorknocker. She didn’t like what she saw—silver tears that looked awfully similar to Ms. Leucosia’s were streaming down the planes of her face.
♪
The Fein house was so chaotic that no one even noticed Portia sneak in and head up the stairs. When she walked into Felix’s room, he was throwing some clothing into a duffel bag, his back to the door. She tapped him gently on the shoulder.
Turning around, his face crumpled at the sight of her, and he surrendered himself to a torrent of pent-up tears. Portia pulled her friend in tightly and held him for as long as he would allow.
After a few minutes he pulled away, and Portia signed to him, “How bad is it?”
He signed back, “Best-case scenario would be that one day he’ll be able to walk again. That is, if he ever regains consciousness. They’re not sure yet how much brain damage there was. It’s hard to tell yet because of the swelling…” He went into his bathroom and grabbed a bunch of toiletries, tossing them carelessly into his bag.
Portia handed him his laptop, which he slipped into a carry-on. “Good that you’re taking that. This way we can chat when you get there. How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
Her use of the word “chat” detonated the bomb that had been ticking inside of him. “Why do you care, Portia? Seriously! Why do you give a shit?! Max will be here and you guys can ‘chat’ with each other all day long!” His voice was thunderous, his words sizzling with resentment. “You can sing to each other. You can share secrets. A regular fucking CW romance!”
His anger stung, but Portia just accepted the hurt he was inflicting. At least he was evening the playing field.
She started signing with lightning speed. “Felix, I—”
He grabbed her hands, squeezing them hard in the vise of his grip.
“DON’T EVEN!”
“Felix, you’re hurting me…stop!” She spoke the words aloud, knowing he wouldn’t hear them.
He pinned her hands behind her back. “You want
me
to stop hurting
you
? You, Portia Griffin, Queen of Pain? Queen of Secrets! How long have you been playing mind games? Have you just been pretending your whole life? Some kind of sick charade to gain pity? Pretending to be mute as an excuse not to have to make any normal friends?” He moved in on her, pushing her toward the door until she was sandwiched in. Her fingers ached in his, but still she held his gaze, welcoming his rebuke.
“You think I haven’t noticed that something changed? How long has Charlotte known?! And Max? Did you tell him, too? Have all our years of friendship meant nothing to you? You think because I’m deaf that I’m also blind? That I don’t see you? Smell you? Dream about you?” He was towering over her, his height exaggerated by the tension of his posture.
And then suddenly he went slack. The well of his words ran dry, and he eased his grip on her hands. Still he didn’t make any move toward letting her go. They stood there for an endless moment, their breath coming hard, the rise and fall of their chests defining the passage of time.
He leaned his face in close to hers. She closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of his angry lips on hers. Wasn’t this what it was all leading up to anyway? All that anger, all that hurt? Couldn’t it all be erased by a kiss?
But his lips never came.
She opened her eyes and when she read his face, she realized that a kiss would have been an insult. What was held in those black eyes could never have been expressed by one kiss, by one moment. She brought her hand up to touch his face.
But the masked man was back, his face a beautiful slab of cold stone. And as much as Portia wished her fingers could chisel away at that stone, they remained mere fingers. Fingers that ached from his rough handling of them.
He pried her hand from his face. “Go home, Portia.”
She pushed him away and ran out of the room.
♪
When she got down the stairs, Portia lost any hope that the exchange between her and Felix had flown under the radar. All the scheduling and airline calling came to an abrupt halt as soon as she came into view. Wendy, Kate, and Julia were glaring at her like a pack of mother lions whose cub had just been threatened.
Portia wished she was invisible. She wished she was dead.
Helena broke the silence. “Natalie, we’re going to take Portia home now.” She gave Joshua’s hand a squeeze. “Please keep us posted about Dean. Anything we can do to help—you know we’re here for you…” Her words trailed off into the awkwardness.
Portia walked over to Felix’s mother. She had known Natalie Fein for as long as she could remember. She wondered if Felix’s parents hated her now. She wondered if Natalie would reciprocate an embrace. Cautiously she folded her arms around her and felt a great sense of relief when the hug was returned.
“I’m so sorry, Natalie. For everything.”
She could not believe that these were the first words her voice would carry to her loved ones.
One day Ares, the great God of War, drew his blade and carved a crescent moon into the left cheek of Proteus, a great shape-shifting God. Proteus then soared out of the grip of Ares, turning into an eagle, his favorite form of all.
As he flew further away, Proteus found himself above a lush island when suddenly he heard the most beautiful sound ever known to him or any God. Swooping down to the meadow, he transformed back into his own person, boasting a strong build and a fine face, excepting the mark on his cheek.
At the edge of the meadow he beheld a Goddess of immeasurable beauty, passing her graceful hand through the clear waters of a shimmering pond.
“Please forgive my intrusion on your glorious song,” said Proteus. “I hoped you would allow me to cool my weary feet in the waters of this pond.”
“A fair God are you,” replied Ligeia, her teeth glowing white as the moon. “Thus I will not deny your request. But I must warn you that the waters of this pond have come from the many tears I have shed.”
Proteus was further enchanted and transformed himself into a swan, diving gracefully into the salty waters. Ligeia was pleased by the feat of the shape-shifter, watching him float as a swan and then resume his manly form.
Proteus swam to the edge of the pond and offered his gratitude to the Goddess.
“I must thank you for the gift of these waters, which do ease my well-worn muscles. I pray, tell me your name and why so many tears you have thus shed.”
“I am called Ligeia,” spoke the Siren. Her voice was as soothing as the waters in which Proteus floated. “I am one of three daughters of Achelous and Terpsichore. Just here I sat some years ago when I learned that my sister, Leucosia, was best loved by my mother.”
Ligeia’s eyes became greener with envy.
“A final good-bye I never said to my beloved mother for she did not desire to see myself or Parthenope. Only Leucosia.”
With a delicate hand she swiped away her fresh tears.
“Only Leucosia…”
Proteus’s heart grew heavy at the tale of the Goddess’s great rejection. Out from the salty waters the shape-shifter climbed, settling himself alongside the magnificent Siren.
Ligeia then told him of the murder of Nereus and the sudden disappearance of Leucosia.
Proteus was already smitten and could not see the evil that dwelt within the Goddess—only the great pain she had suffered. The seeds of their ardor had been planted and secret lovers they became, never wanting to share their moments with another.
But, alas, the evil that bloomed in Ligeia’s heart would not be staid by Proteus’s great love for her.
The Siren’s heart floated further and further away from Proteus, consumed by hurt and revenge. He performed great feats of shape-shifting for his lover, trying in earnest to draw her attentions back to himself. But his efforts were fruitless, and Ligeia continued down her path of self-destruction, her murderous frenzies becoming ever more frequent.
One day, after Poseidon blew a great storm out to sea, Ligeia sought out Proteus in the spot where they had first met. The waters of her pond of tears had turned murky and sulfurous, a dense steam rising from their wake. Proteus swooped down to meet his beloved but could barely recognize the Siren who stood before him.
“Ligeia, in my eyes you will always be beautiful. But even now do you appear unto me quite mad. For your hair, which once could shame the brightest flame, is now streaked with gray. And your eyes, once clear as a flawless emerald, are now reddened and filled with fog. Tell me, why do you now bare teeth of yellow and the odor of festered roses? What troubles you so deeply that has rendered you a mere ghost of the great beauty you once were?”
Ligeia’s fury came at Proteus like a sword unto his heart.
“Have you not heard, Proteus? Have you not heard that the great mortal Odysseus was not drawn in by our song?” In frenzied circles the Siren paced about as she ranted onward. “We are ruined, Proteus! A mere mortal has passed before us and resisted our seduction. We have suffered a shame that can never be healed! No mortal has ever resisted the Siren’s song!”
Ligeia pulled at her hair, dropping tiny tufts at her lover’s feet. “Parthenope and I must now take our own lives, Proteus. We cannot bear the shame. Never again will we know true happiness. For the rest of time, Gods and mortals alike will speak of Odysseus’ power to resist us. We will forever be a failure…”
She placed her quivering hand on the face of her lover, fingering his golden locks. Her fingers were peeling and bloodied, chewed to the very quick.
“I have come to bid you farewell, Proteus. I have loved you truly, but that cannot be enough to make me live with the shame of my failure.”
Proteus felt great panic, knowing that Ligeia had chosen to take her own life. He beseeched her with wise and loving words, saying:
“Ligeia, of what madness do you speak? Loveliest among the Goddesses are you ever still, your voice sweeter than ambrosia. I beg you, do not take your own life for the rejection of one mere mortal!”
Ligeia’s giant wings emerged from her back, creating a great wind, which blew the words of Proteus fast out to sea.
“There is nothing you could say, Proteus, nor any shape into which you can shift, that can rid me of the great unrest that now lives in my heart. I bid you, say farewell unto me without anger or fear, for we have shared a great love. Perhaps one day our paths shall cross again among Gods or mortals.”
The Goddess then flew away, carried by her giant wings.
Proteus immediately shifted his shape into the eagle that had first brought him unto Ligeia. He flew in silent desperation and then hovered in the sky, helpless to halt her. He felt as if he had fallen upon the sword as he beheld his lover and her sister join hands and soar with maddening speed into the dark wine waters of the great sea.
Before they broke the surface of the water, the sisters sang unto one another with voices that remained glorious. The melody that they sang as they descended into the waters haunted Proteus for many years to come.
He had to admit that when Leucosia sang it to Portia, behind the Café on the Ridge, it sounded just as beautiful as though it were escaping the lips of his lost love…