Leucosia held his eyes unflinchingly.
“I mean, don’t you think she needs help?”
“She does need help, Felix. But not the kind you think.” As she spoke the words to him, she felt the same frustration that Portia described at not being able to convince him of things with her voice alone. But then again, she had no right to expect the poor boy to overcome his deafness.
How could she convince him? She was out of options. She couldn’t just call in a random student to vocally manipulate, as she had promised Zeus that she would not involve any more innocent mortals in this obscene turning of events. And sprouting her wings right now would probably destroy everything in her tiny office. She would have to rely on some good old-fashioned wisdom.
“Felix, I have watched you and Portia grow together for years,” she signed and spoke aloud. “I have rarely seen, especially between a boy and a girl, such a complete and honest friendship. Can’t you just focus on that right now? What you have had all these years? Let it carry you, at least for a while. I beg of you.”
“You ‘beg of me’? Sounds like you’ve bought into the whole story, too, Ms. Leucosia.”
“Every story has many sides, Felix. Let’s just say that I’m coming at it from a different angle than you.”
“Sides, angles, whatever. I’ll do the best I can, but I’m coming at it from the ‘normal’ angle—”
“No, Felix. Like I said before, the ‘love’ angle. That’s your angle.” She detected a note of defeat wash over his face and knew that she had driven home her point, despite not being able to manipulate him with her voice.
And with that, she handed him a note and sent him back to class.
He accepted the exit opportunity as willingly as Leucosia’s declaration that he was indeed in love with Portia Griffin.
♪
Portia dozed lightly, her thoughts and dreams a combination of Felix and Leucosia’s voices, which she could hear on the periphery. But there was something else. Something Max had said before kept muscling its way into her thoughts, preventing her from falling into the deep sleep that she so desperately craved.
…Funny, she likes to read him
The Odyssey
…
And then in a flash it gelled. Her lids flew open and she bolted upright.
“Proteus has been visiting Max’s father.”
It came out slightly mumbled, and Leucosia asked her to repeat herself.
“PROTEUS HAS BEEN VISITING MAX’S FATHER!”
“What? How do you know?” Leucosia asked.
But Portia didn’t even hear her. “That’s why he keeps thinking that his wife has been there. He’s been transforming himself into Norah Hunter and visiting him. Oh my God. Everyone thinks he’s hallucinating. They’re pumping him full of drugs. We have to tell Max. His father’s not crazy. We have to tell him!”
“Portia, please calm down,” Leucosia urged.
“Leucosia, I’m sure of it! But why? Why would Proteus be visiting Max’s father?”
Portia stared at Leucosia, awaiting the wise response her mentor would surely have at the ready.
“I e-mailed Dionysus. He was supposed to get back to me. He never did.”
“Well, e-mail him again, Leucosia. This isn’t a joke.”
Leucosia wasn’t smiling. “No, it isn’t. I’m afraid that this isn’t the first time Dionysus has let his propensity for alcohol interfere with his Godly responsibilities. I swear that God really does need an intervention.”
“Leucosia, please, stay focused…”
“Yes, sorry. Portia, you must promise me that you won’t tell Max anything. It’s enough that Felix already knows. I have an idea of how to find out what is going on over at Havenhurst. In the meantime, please excuse me so that I can write to Dionysus to tell him how utterly disappointed I am in him. Perhaps I’ll send him a link to the twelve steps…”
The blood in Athena’s veins was threatening to boil over. She still could not believe what Leucosia had revealed to her about Tiresias.
Pitied? Pitied?
When the now-dead prophet had happened upon her in the river, he had not been satisfied with a mere glimpse of her naked form. He had actually thrust himself upon her, wanting to have his way with her. Had it not been for the chance arrival of Aphrodite to tell her that they were being summoned by Zeus, Tiresias surely would have stolen Athena’s virtue. The wise Goddess had been so ashamed by the scandalous event that she had never spoken of it to anyone.
Instead she had blinded him.
Over the years, Tiresias had come begging for her forgiveness, claiming that he had gone mad at the sight of her naked beauty. Even if she would have taken pity on him, though, the blindness was irreversible, as often such curses are.
“You should be thankful that ever are you able to still see the future, Tiresias…” and with that she had thought that Tiresias’s name would never be spoken to her again.
But now Leucosia had requested that she visit the prophet in Hades, begging a vision that would explain Proteus’s intentions.
If it weren’t for the fact that she loved her friend Leucosia as a sister, she would have flat out refused. Instead she was now burning a mixture of Boca burgers and soy chicken, hoping that the Gods of Hades would accept the Vegan sacrifice—slaughtering a sheep was so five centuries ago—and allow her to conjure Tiresias’s spirit.
“Who summons me so with a sacrifice so foreign that all who inhabit the underworld are guessing at its origin?”
“I see you are still blind, Tiresias. But I suppose that has no bearing on your sense of smell. It is I, Athena—”
“Athena?” His spirit was fuzzy, fluid. “Why have you come? Have you thus figured a way to restore my vision, though I am now but a mere spirit?”
Athena marveled at how foolish Tiresias was. “I have told you, Tiresias, there is nothing I can do to bring back your sight. I have come instead to seek a favor—”
The spirit of the God swirled around her. “A favor? Why should I grant you a favor after the way you have ruined me?”
She had been anticipating this question. “Because Tiresias, until now I have never told another God or mortal of the way you attacked me those many years ago. If you do not cooperate with me now, I will surely tell all who will listen. I will tarnish your name forever and no longer will the Gods of Hades pity your blind soul. They will banish you to Tartarus forever.”
The spirit stilled his motion. “All right, Athena. You have my ear. What is it you would like to know?”
As she continued to heave into the toilet, all Portia could think of was how thankful she was to have her own bathroom. The last thing she needed was for her parents to start insisting that she go to the doctor. She herself was shocked at the physical manifestations of her internal battle. Frequent dizzy spells, fevers, chills, and vomiting—all symptoms of the malignant disease that was metastasizing inside of her at record speed.
The symptoms had definitely grown worse after her last conversation with Leucosia.
“So Athena basically found out that Proteus has indeed been visiting Alan Hunter. His purpose in doing so is to ensure that the father will convince his son to keep on dating you, despite whatever differences you may be having. The last thing they want is for Max to suddenly decide he’s had it with you—especially now that they’ve come so far. You have to admire the cunning of the shape-shifter, Portia.”
“Admire? I don’t have to admire shit, Leucosia. Sorry—the curse word was them, not me; this voice throwing is a nightmare. We have to tell Max—”
Leucosia infused her voice with authority—she still had a few years up on Portia, and she needed her charge to know that.
“Portia, you will not tell Max anything. We are days away from our battle against Proteus. When we destroy him, this business with Alan Hunter will stop, and it will be as if it never happened. You will not tell Max, Portia.”
After a prolonged silence, Portia looked back in defeat.
“So this is what it feels like, huh? When I tell people what to do or, in this case, what not to do, and they have no choice but to listen? I don’t like it, Leucosia. But I’m too sick to fight…”
And so she had let it go for the moment. But repressing the secret that Max’s father was not hallucinatory had only made her condition worse.
She wished she could just stay at home tethered to her bed, resisting all the malevolent temptations that were calling to her. That fear of a doctor unearthing her secret, though, forced her to keep going to school.
Leucosia’s office had become a safe haven for Portia, and somehow she had trained herself to head straight there when she felt the evil coming. Or, if Felix was around, which he was quite often, he would guide Portia to the nurse’s office at the first sign of her “unusual” behavior.
Felix persisted in his half-hearted pursuit of Gabrielle Parker, which had prompted even more inexcusable behavior from Portia’s evil self.
“Gabrielle, do you really think you’re a worthy competitor for me? Do you really think you are as good for him as I am?” She had cornered the innocent girl in the gym locker room, imbuing her voice with the most menacing tone she could muster. Gabrielle had grabbed her stuff and bolted.
When Portia thought back to the exchange, she was further sickened by the idea that she wasn’t actually sure if that was the sisters’ voice or her own. As she tried to separate out her own thoughts from the ones that were being hurled into her mind, that was the only one whose source remained a mystery.
Am I actually jealous of that brainless cheerleader? She has nothing up on me…
Portia knew that as the days wore on, her physical beauty was intensifying. The boys were relentless in their pursuit of her, and the girls had started avoiding her at every cost. She didn’t blame them. She had become that stereotypical character, usually reserved for the set of
Pretty Little Liars
, not the halls of RPA.
Yet there were moments when the disdain of her female classmates actually nurtured the seeds within her. She thrived on their jealousy and the cold looks that even Charlotte and Jacqueline had begun to throw her way.
And then there was Max.
When she thought of how she had been treating him, she had moments of deep shame, which were then quickly overtaken by a sexual desire that she thought was only reserved for books about men who were fifty shades of something or other.
Portia had always been so quick to judge people who developed addictions. Whatever their poison—drugs, alcohol, sex—she had trouble sympathizing with those who opted for a life of debauchery. But now, as every ounce of her tingled at the thought of Max—seducing him, toying with him, and ultimately destroying him—she saw how easy it could be to fall prey to an addiction.
She retched into the toilet again as an image of Max with a deep red gash in his throat popped into her mind. She wondered if the vomiting was her way of trying to expel the thoughts, the forces from her weary body. But no matter how much she retched, she was still consumed.
Distracted by the vomiting, she didn’t even hear her mother knock on her door. She heaved into the toilet again and collapsed back onto floor, her body wracked with spasms.
“Portia, oh my God, what’s the matter?”
Through her watery eyes she made out Helena’s worried face leaning over her, the back of her hand swiping her forehead to feel for a fever.
“It’s nothing, Mom.” But her words were croaky and breathless.
“That’s it. I’m calling Dr. Loring and making an appointment for you first thing in the morning. Do you think you can even hold out that long?”
Portia opened her mouth to try to placate her mother, but her gag reflex kicked in and once again she was hunched over the toilet.
“Oh, baby. What’s going on with you?” Helena was wringing out a washcloth and mopping Portia’s brow. Admittedly her mother’s touch felt so welcome. She was tired of fighting this battle all on her own and would have loved nothing more than to surrender herself to some much-needed TLC.
Easing her into bed, Helena tucked her daughter in securely, adding a second blanket. Her words were soothing as Portia let go of some of the tension that had been filling her every nerve.
“I’m gonna go call Daddy and tell him that he needs to cut his trip short.”
“No, Mom—don’t.” She was barely able to instill that Siren edge into her words, her powers weakening by the minute. But she couldn’t let Helena ask her father to come back now. She had been so relieved when her dad had announced that he was scouting out some new properties out West and would have to be away for a few weeks. Things had been so uncomfortable with Joshua lately anyway. Portia felt bad for him, for any father who had to contend with the evolution of ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’ into ‘No Longer Daddy’s Anything.’ Portia wondered if his sudden interest in properties out West might even have been sparked by her intolerable adolescence.
Whatever the case, the less she had to involve her parents the better.
“Ok, fine,” Helena was wringing out a washcloth with water and alcohol, “but only if you promise you’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and,” she added, mopping Portia’s brow with the cool cloth, “I’m sleeping on your futon tonight.”
Portia started to protest, but her strength had ebbed away entirely.
“You might want to call or iChat or whatever it is you do with Felix or Charlotte and tell them you won’t be in in the morning.”
Helena dimmed Portia’s light and hurried out of the room to get her cell phone.
With a surge of panic, Portia signed on to iChat and was relieved when Leucosia accepted the chat right away.
“Oh, dear God, Portia, you look terrible! Well, I mean, you look beautiful, but terrible nonetheless. What’s going on?”
“I’m sick, Leucosia. This thing has literally been making me sick. I was trying to hide it from my mother, but she just walked in on me vomiting, and now she’s insisting on taking me to the doctor tomorrow. What am I gonna do? I don’t know if I’ll have the power to talk my way out of things—do you understand? My powers are slipping as I become more…more infested…”
Portia would have cried, but she was so devoid of energy that even the shedding of tears seemed an overwhelming prospect.
“It’s going to be OK, Portia,” Leucosia continued to stroke Hermes calmly, a pensive look on her flawless face.
“Leucosia, did you hear me? The jig is up! Tomorrow I’m probably going to be totally busted. They’re gonna see that I am some kind of superhuman freak, and I won’t be able to, like, erase the doctor’s memory with my voice because my voice is starting to crap out on me. There’s nothing ‘OK’ about this whole situation!”
“Portia, please calm down. It’s all going to be all right. I’ll figure something out. Right now I just need you to get some rest. If you strain yourself like this, then of course your powers are going to be compromised. You must remember—you are and always will be a powerful Siren.” Leucosia was doing the ‘you-have-no-choice-but-to–believe-what-I’m-telling-you’ thing, and Portia welcomed every word like a dose from a morphine drip. “We have only three days until we take down my sisters and Proteus, and I need you to be in top form. Do you understand, Portia? So much of this is riding on you.”
Portia could feel the bile rising in her throat again as Leucosia alluded to her upcoming responsibilities. She couldn’t handle having anything “riding” on her right now.
“What do you mean, Leucosia? I thought this was a group effort. I thought Ares was the main player here.”
“Listen to me, dear.” She infused her velvety voice with a further dose of calm. “Ares wrote to me the other day to explain that the only way to take down a shape-shifter is to paralyze him first.”
Portia swatted away the beads of sweat that were stinging her eyes. “Yeah? And how exactly is that supposed to happen?”
“You will make it happen, Portia.”
Portia began laughing, which quickly segued into another round of vomiting. Luckily Helena had placed a garbage can next to her bed.
“Oh dear,” Leucosia said squeamishly, “that does indeed look bad. I am so sorry for you, dearest Portia. You must remember, though, that there is nothing as powerful as the voice of the virginal Siren. The power is within you to paralyze Proteus—to paralyze anyone.”
Portia stared blankly at the screen. What could she even say? Right now there was nothing within her but bile.
“We will make it through this, Portia,” Leucosia continued. “Please do not despair. Now I must go and make some arrangements. Listen, I want you to promise me that after we sign off you are going to lock away your worries and get some sleep. If your mother wants to take care of you for a night, let her—you deserve it. You need to get well, Portia. OK?”
Portia had already begun to drift off.
The last thing she remembered was Helena shutting her laptop off before she was carried off into her demon-infested sleep.