Silent Echo (33 page)

As Leucosia ran out of her house, her own wings emerged and she was on her way in an instant. She wondered for a moment what Proteus’s next move would be when suddenly she felt the back draft of a flying eagle soaring way above her.

♪

Max had been waiting for this day all along—the day when he would go mad. These things usually run in the family. Still, he just couldn’t believe how real it all seemed.

She had arrived at his window just moments before, rousing him from his sleep. He had assumed she had climbed up the trellis, but when he opened the window, she was suspended in the air.

By wings.

That moment marked Max’s official descent into the insanity that had claimed his father.

He locked his eyes shut and screamed, begging it, her, to stop.

At the sound of his hysteria, Portia told Max in no uncertain terms to shut up. The sound of her voice immobilized him and brought about his immediate silence. All he could do was strengthen his grip on her back, one arm looped fiercely around her neck as they continued to soar higher and higher, the flapping of her wings causing him to choke on the air.

He wished he had a bottle of pills to swallow just as his father had. How else would he be able to escape the trappings of his own mind? The madness had already killed him in so many ways, hadn’t it? It must have been him all along, imagining Portia’s mood swings, demonizing her for reasons of his own mental instability. And the mysterious jogger whose face kept reappearing to him in his dreams? All part of the inevitable breakdown.

Afraid to utter a sound, he wondered at the path his insanity had taken. Why Portia? What was motivating him to project this twisted image onto her? And why would he be hallucinating the grotesque hellion that trailed behind them?

He wanted to scream again but was afraid they would come to get him. The men in the white coats. And so he had no choice but to ride it out. Literally. If he let go of her, he would surely fall into the abyss, real or imagined. He clenched his eyes shut again as they continued to soar through the air.

As they progressed further into their journey, the creature that followed behind was singing in a foreign language. Greek, maybe? Portia’s wings seemed to be flapping in time to its song, spurred on by its voice, until suddenly the creature stopped.

“It is with great sadness that we must leave you now, Portia.” Max almost fell off for how abruptly she stopped midair. “For the powers of mere spirits are no match for the gathering of Gods that await you at Mount Olympus. Unto the halls of Hades shall we return now, waiting to hear tidings of your success from Proteus.”

With the departure of the apparition, Max hoped that the hallucination was drawing to an end.

But Portia wasn’t letting him out of her clutches so fast.

“Don’t worry for me. You’ve done your job. I assure you I can take it from here.” Her voice was just as glorious as theirs.

Portia swooped away from the melded creature, boasting the trophy of the helpless mortal between her silken wings.

Max closed his eyes, allowing the insanity to further invade him. It would have to end eventually.

Wouldn’t it?

The fact that her wings guided her straight to the peak at Mount Olympus did not surprise Portia in the slightest. It was like she had a built-in navigation system, which only added to her sense of omnipotence. Fully focused on the task at hand, the only mild distraction along the way was Max’s whimpering.

During her flight, any remnants of the Portia Griffin that had once been intimidated by the sophisticated Max Hunter had turned to dust. Now the fear seeping through Max’s pores into her own actually fueled her strength. When they reached the mountain peak, Portia was almost disappointed at having to end the exhilarating flight. But she knew that the events about to take place would prove far more exciting. Bringing them down for a landing into the brush of a field adjacent to the mountain peak, Max rolled off of her back and onto the ground.

He looked up at Portia, his usually rich skin tone now a sickly shade of white. His eyes were bulging with fear and stained from tears.

“Who are you? What the hell is going on?” He stumbled over the words.

“Oh come on, Max. Don’t you know by now?”

“No, Portia. I don’t know anything anymore. Well, except for that I’m as bloody messed up as my father. I mean, I’m hallucinating all of this, right?”

Portia laughed.

“Max, you aren’t hallucinating. And guess what? Neither was your father—but more about that later.” She laughed. “I assure you that everything you are feeling right now is absolutely real. The fear, the draw, the desire to please me. It is all real, Max. And it is about to get realer.”

Max dropped to his knees.

“Portia, let me go. Please take me back home. You’ll never have to see me again. I’ll go back to New York, I promise.” His voice broke with intermittent sobs. “Please, Portia…”

The wry laughter that emanated from Portia’s lips as she heard Max’s pleas could not even be classified as human. She watched him shudder at the sound of it.

“Poor, poor Max. The gorgeous prodigy from New York blessed with musical genius. Mother and father lost to him. It’s all just so dramatic. But, hey, remember that song you were working on when I came over the other day? How did it go again?

“Well, it’s a cold, cold place

Way deep down in your soul.

But I just can’t stay away,

I’ve lost all control.”

She executed a perfect rendition of the tune Max had been working on, though she had only heard it once.

“But I know it will lead me somewhere warm,

And so I ride the storm…”

“
Well, guess what, Max?” Portia approached him slowly. “You’re in the eye of that storm right now.”

From her front pocket, she took out the letter opener that she had pilfered from his desk, touching its tip to Max’s cheek, drawing it down to the hollow of his neck.

“Hey, Max, do you know what a griffin is?”

Max couldn’t speak, afraid that any move he made would force the blade into his skin.

“Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a mythological creature—half eagle, half lion. King of the beasts and king of the birds. I think that’s an appropriate surname for me, don’t you?”

Max nodded ever so slightly.

“Before I could talk I used to spend endless hours lying around outside in the hammock, memorizing different birdcalls. I used to imagine what the call of the griffin might have sounded like. Would it be a short chirp, a loud roar, or a longer melodious song? Shall I show you what I thought it would sound like?”

Max tried shaking his head no but found that instead he was nodding emphatically.

Placing the opener back in her pocket for the moment, Portia raised both of her beautiful arms into the air. Her face pointed at the sky, she released a sound from her throat that was so sonorous Max could have sworn he felt the earth shake beneath them. The call was delicate and vulgar all at once. Euphoric and mournful at the same time.

At the sound of the extraordinary call, something emerged from the fog.

“Ahhh. Look who’s here. How nice of you all to join us.” Portia inched her way over to the Gods who had walked onto the scene. “Allow me to make some introductions. Max Hunter, this is Athena, the great Goddess of Wisdom; Ares, the great God of War; and Dionysus, the great God of Wine. Oh, and Madness. I believe he knows your father,” she added viciously. “Great Gods,” she pointed to the prostrate figure quivering on the ground, “this is Max Hunter.”

The Gods exchanged a knowing look with each other. Except for Max’s whimpering, a heavy silence fell over the odd grouping.

Athena was the first to speak.

“Portia, was that you who made that wondrous call only a moment ago? The sound was ever glorious.”

Portia grinned widely, baring all of her teeth. “I see why they call you the Goddess of Wisdom, Athena. Flattery is a wonderful form of distraction. But I won’t be sidetracked. Not today. There’s been a change of plans, folks. Instead of us teaming up today to destroy Proteus, I have something else in store for your viewing pleasure.”

She took out the letter opener and with lightning speed flew over to Max, grabbing his arm and making a deep slash in the palm of his hand. A river of blood flowed forth from the pad of his skin as he let out an agonizing cry.

As if nothing had happened at all, Portia continued what she was saying.

“I am going to kill Max Hunter before your very eyes.”

She grabbed his other hand and slashed that palm as well. The Gods moved to stop her but found that they were rooted to their spots, unable to approach the voice that was keeping them at bay.

“I’m sure you are all wondering why I would want to do such a thing. Well, here it is. I am here today to prove that among the Gods, there is none as powerful as the Siren.”

Max stared at her blankly, stains growing on his sweatpants where he tried applying pressure to the geysers of blood that were his hands.

“Oh, come on, Max, surely you knew. Weren’t you paying attention in Mr. Morrison’s class? The Siren exists to symbolize the absolute power that women have over men. Their seduction is impossible to resist.”

Max continued to stare at her in shock.

“Lest you all think that I am a novice at this, allow me to reassure you that my skills are honed. Maybe you shouldn’t have given me that homework list after all.”

With that she walked over to a tiny tuft of buds sprouting in the grass.

“Mary, Mary quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells and cockle shells,

And a Siren who’s ready to blow…”

The words just fell out of her mouth effortlessly. Before anyone could say anything, the tiny crop ballooned into a thicket of cherry blossom trees in full bloom.

Athena shot Ares and Dionysus a look of fear.

Portia’s wings emerged again, and she flew around the trees she had created. She flapped her plumes, white as the driven snow, and started circling the group of Gods as well.

“So let us be clear—I have been reborn. I am now Portia Griffin, destroyer of men, indestructible among Gods.”

Portia sounded off another round of griffin calls, the haunting noise reverberating for miles around. Though still paralyzed by the Goddess’s voice, Athena did manage to convey a message to Ares and Dionysus in a hushed tone.

“Leucosia has ever now texted me that she is on her way. She begged us to stall Portia, for there is something she must acquire before she comes to join us. You must work with me to stave off the murderous appetite of the young Siren.”

Dionysus then interrupted Portia’s griffin mimicking frenzy.

“Portia, do you not think that a moment such as this is worthy of the finest wines of the Gods? I recall your young self refusing the goblet when last you visited Mount Olympus, but surely now that you are a woman with great powers of seduction, a celebration of your rebirth is called for.”

The words of Dionysus found favor with the frenzied Portia, and she ordered him to go fetch some wine while she protected her prey.

Athena was thankful for the extra time and hoped to Zeus and all who are mighty that Leucosia was on her way.

♪

After Proteus sidetracked her, Leucosia’s knee-jerk reaction was to fly straight to Mount Olympus. The only flaw in that plan, however, was, well, that there was no plan. What was she going to do when she got there? She never imagined how powerful Parthenope and Ligeia would prove to be today. How could she have underestimated the situation so grossly?

I’m too old for this
, she told herself.
Maybe I am fighting a losing battle. Look at me.
Now
I’m on my way to the home of a perfectly innocent boy to try to involve him in a situation that is nothing short of abysmal.

Her wings slowed momentarily as she second-guessed her decision to suck Felix into the dangerous confrontation.

Suddenly her phone vibrated. Dionysus had texted her.

“I have been able to buy some time by offering the young muse some wine. Shall I lace it with the petals of the lotus flower?”

The offer was so tempting. If Portia consumed the lotus flowers, then she might forget what it is that is motivating her. But it was a big “if.” Most Gods were able to resist the powers of the memory-erasing plant. What if Portia just became even angrier that they had tried to trick her?

Also, if the flowers did work their magic, what then? When would the struggle end? Eventually Proteus and her sisters would get hold of her again, and this whole laborious process would begin all over.

Frankly she just didn’t have any fight left in her.

“No, Dionysus. Please just offer her the mildest wine—remember she is but a child. We must see this thing through to the end today, or it will never be over.”

Once again she sped up her wings and decided that no matter the consequences, her only hope of saving Max was to involve Felix. She would have to bear the wrath of Zeus—she’d borne worse.

A great relief flooded her when she saw the Fein home looming directly beneath her. Coming in for a subtle landing in the backyard, Leucosia took a moment to collect herself before knocking on the door.

Kate Fein answered the door, registering a slight look of surprise at seeing the school nurse at their door at 9:30 a.m. on a Sunday.

“Miss Leucosia, hey. Did you need to see my dad about something?”

It took Leucosia a minute to remember that James Fein was technically her boss.

“Oh, no dear, thank you though. I was actually wondering if I could see Felix for a moment. I was doing some extra paperwork this morning, and I realized that I had forgotten to administer a new hearing test to him this year. I had a bit of a nasty letter about it from the Board of Ed and thought that maybe he could come with me now so that I could just tick it off my list.”

Leucosia prayed that her story sounded plausible.

“Sure, I’ll go get him. Do you want to come in?”

“Oh no, thank you dear, I’ve left the car running.” Damn. Why did she have to say that? What if Kate actually looked for her car?

Leucosia quickly stepped into the house and shut the door behind her.

“Well, maybe just for a bit to warm my feet while I wait. There’s a bit of a chill in the air today.”

“I know,” responded Kate as she started up the stairs to get her brother, “preview to winter, I guess…”

While Kate was upstairs, Leucosia took in the charming interior of Felix Fein’s house. There were family pictures everywhere, and his mother obviously had an affinity for French provincial decor. She found it endearing and felt an even greater pang of guilt at involving the boy in this mess.

Within moments, Felix came racing down the stairs, a look of fear plastered on his face.

He signed quickly, “What’s going on? Is she OK?”

“I need you to come with me,” Leucosia signed back.

“OK, let’s go.”

Leucosia took in the thin T-shirt Felix was wearing.

“You might want to take a sweatshirt.”

“I said let’s go, Leucosia,” he commanded, hurrying out the door. It was the first time he had ever dropped the “Ms.”

“Where’s your car?” Leucosia was having trouble keeping up with Felix’s long legged strides. She had never really noticed just how tall the boy had recently become.

“Around the back,” she signed guiltily.

Felix hurried around to the back of the house, wondering where exactly she meant.

“No, Leucosia. I asked where your car was?” he repeated, gesturing to the vast and empty backyard.

“Felix,” the Goddess signed, “you definitely want to help Portia, right?”

“Oh, man, I don’t like where this is heading.”

Without further warning, Leucosia brought forth her enormous wings, causing Felix to reel backward onto the ground.

“No way. Are you kidding me? There is no way you just sprouted a pair of wings.”

She took Felix’s hands in her own, hoping to assuage his fears with her touch, especially since she couldn’t calm him with her voice.

“It’s the only way we can even hope to get there on time. Felix, please. She’s going to kill Max.”

He rose back up cautiously, circling Leucosia, surveying the situation.

“So it’s all true. All the stuff you guys told me. What did you leave out? What’s happening now?”

“Felix, there is no time to waste. I will reveal everything to you on our journey. Now we must go!”

“I can’t believe it’s true. This stuff doesn’t really happen.”

“Now, Felix. There is no time to waste.”

He stared at her incredulously. “But I’m like a thousand times bigger than you,” he said, circling her, gently touching the wings. “How exactly is this supposed to work?”

Without answering him, Leucosia knelt down before him. When he had his hands clenched firmly about her neck, she took flight as if she bore nothing on her back but the weight of a mere feather.