Tidal (24 page)

“I’m sorry about that,” Marcy said.

“Don’t be.” Lydia smiled brightly and shuffled the cards. “It’s better to be busy than bored. That’s what I always say.”

“Marcy lives by the exact opposite of that motto,” Gemma said.

Marcy nodded. “I really do.”

“I know.” Lydia laughed in her usual light, twinkling way, and set the deck of cards aside. “Anyway, I got the e-mail with the list of names you wanted me to look up, and I’ve started the search, but it may take a little while.”

“Bummer.” Marcy leaned against the counter next to Lydia. “But I suppose there isn’t, like, a national Greek God Database like there is for missing children.”

“No, there’s not,” Lydia said. “And it doesn’t help that most of the gods and goddesses don’t want to be found.”

“How come?” Gemma asked.

“Humans and other immortals were always trying to capture them or kill them.” Lydia pulled one knee up to her chest and leaned against it. “They wanted their power or were afraid of them or blamed them for their problems. It’s a very tricky thing being so powerful.”

“I would imagine it is,” Gemma said.

“That’s why so many of them change their names,” Lydia went on. “What do your siren friends go by now? I’m sure it’s not Peisinoe and Thelxiepeia, is it?”

Gemma shook her head. “No, it’s Penn and Thea.”

“They’re much more manageable to say and spell, too, which is an added bonus,” Lydia said.

“The Greeks were lame about names,” Marcy muttered.

Lydia smirked. “Well, I’m sure the Greeks would think you’re pretty lame about names.”

“What about Achelous?” Gemma asked. “Do you know if he’s still alive?”

“I can’t say for sure.” Lydia gave her shoulders a helpless shrug. “Many of the gods live so far off the radar that their deaths don’t even register. I’ve got plenty of feelers out for both him and Demeter, though.”

“What about the muses?” Gemma asked.

“I did have some word on them, but none of it’s good.” Lydia smiled sadly at her. “The two you were looking for—Terpsichore and Melpomene—are confirmed dead, along with Calliope, Euterpe, Clio, Thalia, and Urania. The other two have been missing for centuries and are presumed dead.”

“So you’re saying that all the muses are dead?” Marcy asked, looking up at Lydia.

Lydia nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

“Dammit.” Gemma ran her hand through her hair. “I really thought they might be the key to destroying the scroll.”

“Destroying the scroll is pretty impossible, even if you had a muse,” Lydia reminded her.

“‘Pretty’ impossible isn’t ‘completely’ impossible,” Gemma said. “Thea told me about this Asterion guy, and how he used a muse to break the curse.”

“Are you talking about the minotaur?” Lydia leaned forward, her excitement piqued. “They’ve been extinct for over a thousand years.”

“Right.” Gemma nodded. “Because they undid the curse.”

“And you’re saying they heard it from a muse?” Lydia touched her chin as she thought about it. “That would make sense. Muses kept a lot of secrets, which is why they’re likely all dead. The other reason is their almost boundless love.”

“Boundless love?” Marcy asked. “Is that a nice way of saying they were prostitutes? Because hookers always seem to be targets for serial killers.”

“Serial killers aren’t killing immortals,” Lydia said, casting Marcy a bemused look. “Muses gave up their immortality when they fell in love. They chose to be human to be able to have a relationship instead of the somewhat parasitic version they’d normally have. And then they would just die of natural causes, like any other mortal.”

“So is that what happened to the gods, like Achelous?” Gemma asked.

“No. He’s a true immortal—he was born that way,” Lydia said. “Only those that have been granted immortality—either by being blessed or cursed—can give it up. Everyone else is cursed to live forever. Unless, of course, they’re murdered.”

“So if Achelous is dead, he was murdered?” Gemma asked.

“Yes. That would be the only way.”

Marcy readjusted her glasses on her nose and stared at the floor thoughtfully. “It’s weird that immortality is considered both a blessing and a curse.”

“It is a double-edged sword,” Lydia agreed.

“How do you kill a god?” Gemma asked.

“It depends on the god. If you’re god of the sun, it would probably have something to do with darkness,” Lydia said.

Gemma thought of Achelous, remembering how he was a freshwater god. “So for something like the god of water, it would probably involve being dried out?”

Lydia nodded. “Yeah, something like that.”

“So is that how you kill a siren, then?” Marcy asked.

“No, killing a siren is a lot easier than killing a god. A god—something like Apollo or Achelous—they would be here.” Lydia held up her hand above her head. “And an immortal, something like a siren or even a werewolf or troll, would be here.” She held her hand in front of her chin.

“Where would humans be?” Marcy asked, and Lydia lowered her hand in front of her stomach. “That far down, huh?”

“Yeah, we’re pretty fragile,” Lydia said. “So anyway, lesser immortals like vampires usually have more than one way to kill them. Breaking the curse, starvation, sunlight, a stake through the heart. A god only has
one
way, and it’s usually complicated and arduous.”

“So there’s more than one way to kill a siren, then?” Gemma asked.

“Since you were here last, I’ve been doing some research. I found a few ways to kill sirens, but most of them are longer-term,” Lydia explained. “Starvation, having fewer than four sirens on a full moon, being apart from each other for several weeks. There’s only one instantaneous way to kill them.”

“And would that involve a stake through the heart or a silver bullet?” Marcy asked.

Lydia shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. It’s not quite that simple.”

“Of course not,” Gemma muttered.

“Hold on.” Lydia leaned back and punched some buttons on the cash register. It made a loud
ding
, and the drawer popped open. She dug inside, then pulled out a small, folded square of paper. “Here.”

Lydia had her hand outstretched toward her, but Gemma hesitated.

“What’s that?” Gemma asked.

“It’s how you kill a siren. Not all of the sirens at once, but if you’re fighting one hand-to-hand and need to stop her in self-defense, here’s how you do it.”

“Thank you.” Tentatively, Gemma took the paper from her. “How do you know all this stuff?”

Lydia smiled slyly. “You could say that it’s a family business. My grandma is a witch, and my father is a vampire.”

“Wait.” Marcy narrowed her eyes, as if noticing Lydia for the first time. “Does that mean you’re a vampire? Or a witch?”

“I’m neither, actually,” Lydia answered. “It just means I have an affinity, a natural inclination, towards the supernatural.

“If it makes you feel any better, my grandma is more of a good witch,” Lydia said when Marcy continued to scrutinize her. “She used to help various immortals out when they were in trouble, but she was mostly a record keeper.” Lydia gestured to the bookstore. “Many of these books and scrolls you see here came from my grandma, handed down generation after generation.”

“Have you ever destroyed a scroll?” Gemma asked.

“No, I haven’t.” Lydia paused, then took a deep breath. “But if I’m being honest, I never wanted to. It’s always been our job to protect them.”

“Why? Some of these creatures are evil,” Gemma said.

“Some humans do bad things, truly horrendous things, but that doesn’t mean that they’re all evil or that we all deserve to die,” Lydia said. “Though if the right creature found the scroll with humanity’s curse, they might be tempted to destroy it.”

“Are you implying that we are a curse?” Marcy asked, and she seemed to have relaxed around Lydia again.

“Mortality is a blessing and a curse, too,” Lydia said simply.

“What if I find this scroll?” Gemma asked. “Will you help me destroy it? Or will that go against your nature?”

“My nature is to help those in need,” Lydia replied carefully. “If I have the tools or information you need to protect yourself and those you care about, I will gladly give them to you.”

“Do you have any ideas where the scroll might be?” Marcy asked, turning her attention to Gemma. “I know you came up empty a couple times.”

“I think it might be with the sirens now,” Gemma said. “It wasn’t before, but I told Thea I was looking for it. I think they’ll hang on to it to guard until I’m either gone or I’ve lost interest.”

“But you aren’t going to lose interest, are you?” Lydia asked.

“No.” Gemma shook her head. “I can’t.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help to you,” Lydia said, sounding sincere.

“No, you’ve been plenty of help,” Gemma assured her with a smile. “Thank you.”

Marcy thanked Lydia again, and Lydia promised she’d be in contact soon. They went outside, Gemma’s head swimming with everything Lydia had told her.

“So,” Marcy said once they were both sitting inside her Gremlin. “How do you kill a siren?”

Gemma unfolded the paper to find a photocopied illustration from an old book. It showed exactly what needed to be done, including a detailed diagram with suggested weapons written in English.

Marcy leaned over, peering at it. “That doesn’t look so bad.” Then she pointed to a particularly vicious-looking ax/spike combo labeled as a
battleax.
“It’d be easier if you had one of those, though.”

TWENTY-SIX

Surrender

When Aiden had called to ask her out later that night, Gemma couldn’t think of a reason to say no. Actually, she could think of a million reasons, but between the mounting hunger, the suffocating heat, and the increasing impossibility that she would find a way to save herself, she needed a break.

She knew she needed to redouble her efforts to find the scroll, but since she was pretty sure it was with the sirens, she’d have to battle to get it. Thanks to Lydia, that might be a bit easier now, although Gemma still wasn’t sure she’d be able to actually go through with it. It looked brutal.

But she wanted to wait until Harper was gone. It was only a few more days until she left for college, and then Harper would be a half hour away, getting on with her life and safe from any kind of retaliation the sirens might want to dish out.

So for the next few days, Gemma’s only plan was to look up ways to destroy the scroll, keep her hunger in check, and avoid the sirens—well, at least Penn and Lexi. When she looked at it that way, Aiden calling her was a bit of serendipity.

Aiden picked her up for their date, and Brian emerged from the garage long enough to vaguely threaten him not to hurt or deflower his daughter. He didn’t seem to approve of the pairing, eyeing Aiden’s luxury car with disdain, but he let Gemma go out anyway, probably sensing that she needed an escape.

As far as dates went, theirs went pretty well. Dinner at the yacht club overlooking the bay. It was a little ritzier than Gemma felt comfortable around, but Aiden ordered white wine and poured her a glass. She’d only ever snuck a drink of her dad’s beer on a dare once before, and even though food didn’t really taste the same afterward, sipping the wine felt exotic and mature.

The meal ended up running long, so they skipped the movie, and Aiden took her to one of the clubs off the beach. This Gemma did not like. It was crowded and too hot.

But the solution to that was simple—they left. Everything else was closed on a Sunday night, so Aiden took her back home. Harper’s car was still gone, and the house was dark, so Gemma assumed her dad was in bed.

“I had a nice time tonight,” Gemma said as they sat in his parked car. He’d left it on, so the air-conditioning was keeping them cool, and Gotye was playing softly on his stereo.

“Me, too.” Aiden rested his head against his seat as he looked over at Gemma, and he smiled. There was something absolutely dazzling about his smile, and his brown eyes sparkled.

“I don’t really want it to end yet,” she admitted.

He reached over and used his finger to caress the back of her hand. “Maybe it doesn’t have to.”

“Yeah?” Gemma asked hopefully and bit her lip. “What did you have in mind?”

Aiden leaned toward her, his eyes searching hers as a confident smile played on his lips. The moment his mouth touched hers in a tempestuous kiss, his tongue tasting of cool mint from an Altoid, a strange satisfaction settled over her.

This was the physical contact she’d been craving. He fed into desires she didn’t even want to admit having. His mouth was a bit too forceful, and his hands were too strong on her arms and waist, but that only added to the excitement.

Her skin fluttered, the pleasurable way it did before it transformed, but Gemma pushed it down. She silenced the monster inside her, the one that Aiden’s kisses had woken up. A flush went through her, and she let out a soft moan.

That spurred Aiden on, and he reached down, hitting a button on the side of the seat so it would go back farther.

“That’s better,” he said in a husky whisper once the seat was lying flat like a bed, and Gemma laughed a little.

He’d climbed on top of her then, his body feeling heavy and powerful over her. Part of her was aware that there was something dangerous about this, that he had put her in a position where it was hard for her to move or fight back, but the hunger-lust was blocking out those concerns.

Gemma didn’t want to think or worry about or fear anything. She just let the moment consume her.

Aiden was getting a little rougher with her than she was used to, and while it wasn’t the kind of thing Gemma herself enjoyed, it drove the siren in her wild. He bit her neck when he kissed it, and it sent her skin afire. His hand knotted in her hair, pulling it slightly, and she had to use all her might to keep control of herself.

Then he slid his hand down the front of her shirt, and that was when Gemma knew she had to get a handle on things.

“Aiden, let’s slow things down a bit,” she whispered in his ear as he cupped her breast.

Instead of listening to her, he squeezed her chest harder—painfully, actually.