Silent Echo (34 page)

The alcohol that Dionysus procured for Portia only added to the Siren’s malevolence.

A repertoire of songs began to spill from her painted mouth, showing off her vocals and reminding all who were present just who was running this show. Everything from the score of
Les Misérables
to the latest Black Eyed Peas seemed worthy of airtime to Portia in her moment of glory. With each note she sang, she became more deranged, the evil burrowing its way deeper and deeper inside her.

“Don’t you fret, Monsieur Marius—or was it Marsyas?…”
The
Les Mis
line sounded so menacing as it danced across her lips.

Max was writhing in pain, giant beads of sweat spilling off his forehead, their salt landing on the wounds of his hands, stinging his raw skin.

“What are we waiting for, Portia? Why don’t you just get it over with already?” He hadn’t planned on goading her, but his agony clouded his judgment.

Dionysus tried distracting Portia from the boy’s provocative question by offering her a refill.

“No, thank you, Dionysus. As much as I would love to indulge, I must keep my wits about me.”

She flew over to Max and circled him wildly. When she landed, she sauntered up to him and kissed him hard on the lips. She was delighted that he returned the kiss with equal fervor. Everything the sisters had promised her had been true.

“In answer to your question, Max, we are waiting for the arrival of Leucosia. Oh, you probably know her as Ms. Leucosia. Did you know that she is also a Siren? You should hear her sing. It’s unbelievable. The problem is, she doesn’t know just how much fun the other side is. I think it would add immeasurably to my pleasure if she actually witnessed me killing you. In the meantime, though, I can definitely give you more of a taste of what’s coming.”

Portia landed the tip of her boot right into Max’s upper back, causing him to double over in renewed pain.

After this new assault, Portia delighted in watching Ares willing himself over to her in vain.

“Ares, I’m so sorry,” she offered acerbically. “I know this was supposed to be a glorious day for you. That sword must be burning a hole in your, um, robe. I would relieve you of it, but I think my arsenal is complete—”

“Please, Portia,” Max was begging, “why are you doing this to me?”

The redundancy of his questions was really starting to get on her nerves. She chose to ignore him and jumped up on a rock, facing them all.

“Hey, this one goes out to Dionysus:

Ninety-nine goblets of wine on the wall,

Ninety-nine goblets of wine…”

Portia held up her own golden goblet, toasting the gathering to which she now held court.

“…If one breaks,

Let’s raise the stakes,

Ninety-eight goblets of wine on the wall…”

She started dancing suggestively, imbuing the air with even more sexuality. There was nothing—not one word, not one lyric, not one poetic verse—to which she could not offer the magic of her voice.

Max tried—they all tried—turning their faces away from the frenzied Siren. It was like passing an accident on the road, though: vile to behold, yet too fascinating not to look. And so she continued her performance, the debauchery growing worse by the second. She had just started a perverse rendition of “Killing me Softly”:

“I’m killing you softly with my song,” she laughed, “killing you softly, won’t be long—”

“Portia, what are you doing?” The voice emerged from the fog, followed by Felix Fein and Leucosia. Though she was knee-deep in her performance, Portia was jolted at the sound of his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here, Felix? Get out of here! This has nothing to do with you.” But her tone had immediately lost some of its edge.

Just then a giant winged eagle swooped down and landed on the rock that was Portia’s stage. The eagle morphed into the form of the young man who had accosted Max on the running track and in his bedroom. It was the same man Portia had seen in the shattered mirror.

“Portia Griffin, I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. I am Proteus, son of Poseidon. I have come at the will of my great love, Ligeia, to witness the carnage that is about to occur so that I may present my beloved with the ultimate proof that justice has been done.”

Portia extended a hand to Proteus.

“Portia, look at me.” Felix’s voice was strong. But Portia ignored him, making idle chatter with Proteus.

When she introduced him to Max, the shape-shifter said, “Yes—we’ve met before. And I’ve visited your father many times, Max. Of course, he always mistook me for your mother, but then again, can you blame him?”

The God suddenly morphed into the form of Norah Hunter. Max tried inching nearer to the mirage of his mother but recoiled when once again it was Proteus he was looking at.

“LOOK AT ME, PORTIA!”

Reluctantly the Goddess turned her head and leveled her gaze with Felix’s. There was a slight glimmer of shame in the pools of her eyes.

“Felix, I said this has nothing to do with you. Leucosia never should have brought you here.” Her posture slumped slightly when she addressed him. “I’m past the point of no return,” she signed silently.

Felix approached her slowly, amazing all who were gathered by his ability to resist her.

“Portia, you don’t have to do this. You CAN’T do this. You can still live a normal life—”

Portia began to laugh. “There is no normal life for me, Felix. I am a freak of nature. I will never age. I will never die. Unless of course I decide to drown myself. I will never know true love—true love of me and not just my voice.”

Droplets of liquid silver began to pool in her eyes, and she angrily swatted them away.

“You know that’s not true, Portia. You’re just too afraid to admit it. I don’t know why. I mean, it’s some kind of, like, crazy defense mechanism, fear of I don’t even know what, that makes it impossible for you, for me to acknowledge that I love you. I
have
loved you and
will
love you always.”

Portia’s posture slackened even more as Felix continued to traverse the grassy field.

“Portia, of what nonsense does this mortal speak?” interjected Proteus. “He doesn’t understand you like I do. He knows not the pleasure of conquering mortals. A God can only feel his true powers when he destroys mortals—especially mortals who have deigned to resist them. And Max had certainly tried to go up against you, has he not?”

With that, Proteus morphed into an exact clone of Max and began mimicking the song from the dining hall…

“…Better check that scoreboard, P…”

Portia inched over to the manufactured Max, laughing at the ludicrousness of it all. She was starting to feel confused. Suddenly nothing seemed real.

Except for Felix’s voice. But when she wasn’t holding Felix’s gaze, it was easier for her to remain focused on what she had come here to do. And so she tried to focus only on the feats of the shape-shifter, amazed at how he replicated himself into Max down to the dimples.

“Of course, Proteus. You’re right.” The words were certainly not floating out of her mouth with the same ease. It was as if a sudden wind in her throat was trying to blow them back down, to stifle them. But she persisted. “I’m sorry I got distracted.” She turned back to the gathering. “Now, without further ado, let’s get this show on the road.” She flew off the rock over to Max.

Once again she pressed the blade of the letter opener firmly to his throat.

Leucosia tried reasoning with her apprentice, talking her down from the ledge. But no matter how many millennia of Sirenhood she had under her belt, there was no way Leucosia’s voice was going to be able to control the virgin Goddess who was about to know her first kill.

A tiny drop of blood from Max’s throat fell to the floor, a scarlet reminder of the imminence of his death.

“Portia, wait!” Felix had stopped in his tracks at the sight of the blood. His voice was still resolute, but he was afraid to make any sudden moves. “Listen to me. You know, when I got sick after second grade, I used to watch my mother cry all the time. And then when the virus passed, she kept thanking God, the doctors, anyone who could possibly be thanked. I never saw my mother smile as much as in those two weeks after the doctors said I was out of the woods.”

“Where are you headed with this, Felix?” The impatience had returned to Portia’s voice. “We all know how this story ends. They never understood what the virus was and why it caused your hearing loss. I’ve heard it all before.” But despite her callousness, Felix persisted.

“When my hearing started to go, she was inconsolable. I used to watch my dad comfort her all the time, catching a few words here and there while I still had some ability to hear. Do you know what one of the last things I ever heard was, Portia?”

Portia looked up at him, her eyes filled with curiosity.

“It was my dad saying to my mom, ‘Natalie, everything happens for a reason.’ There was something in those words. Even though I was only eight, I just knew. I knew that I had stumbled onto this, like, monumental discovery. Everything happens for a reason.”

The blade of the knife began to quiver with the shaking of her hand, revealing the uncertainty Portia was beginning to feel.

“You’re that reason, Portia. My reason. The reason I get out of bed every morning. The reason I don’t give a shit about cochlear implants and exploratory surgery. The reason I Google bird trivia and even venture into secondhand bookshops. It’s all you. Silent you, talking you, I don’t care. It’s like I told you that day all those years ago—you are my forever.”

Portia yanked Max’s hair, pulling his head further back. His neck was fully exposed to the blade, his Adam’s apple rising and falling, flirting dangerously with the sharp edge. But her confidence was dwindling.

“What’s your point, Felix? You don’t get it. I might have been good for you all those years, but I’m not that person anymore. Don’t you see?”

“Yes, Portia, I see. All I do is see. Hell, if I can’t hear, then you can be damn well sure that the least I’m gonna do is see you every chance I get. Really see you. I see you when you’re not even there. I relive every moment with you over and over again in my head. Every detail of you. The tilt of your head, the freckle on the back of your shoulder that you probably don’t even know you have. Christ, the way you looked yesterday lying in that tub, your cheeks shining from the steam. All I do is see you, Portia. All I do is want you. And it has nothing to do with what you are. I mean, I’ve never even heard you utter a single goddamned word.” He inched closer to her.

“That’s the point, Felix. My words are ‘God Damned.’ They’ve taken away my ability to control what I say, what I sing. Even what I think—”

“So take it back. Whatever it is you think you’ve lost, Portia, you can take it back. Now. Before it’s too late.”

Felix signed out the words as he spoke them, his gestures fluid and calm.

Blinking her tears away, Portia looked hard into the ebony of her best friend’s eyes. Her limbs started to grow weak.

“You think I haven’t been hurting these past months, Portia? I’ve been walking around as half of myself, looking to my friends, to Gabrielle to make me whole again. But there’s no me without you. You know that, right?”

He continued to approach her as the letter opener quivered threateningly in her hand.

“No, Felix…” She was shaking her head, but her eyes showed traces of defeat.

“You are good, Portia.”

They were standing face-to-face.

“My Portia, the Portia I see, is good. Now give me the knife.”

He held out his hand.

“GIVE ME THE KNIFE, PORTIA!”

His voice felt suddenly distant, drowned out by an intense ringing in her ears. Portia fell to her knees, dropping the blade and collapsing onto the grass, a wave of nausea flooding over her. Crawling under the shade of the nearest tree, she laid her burning cheek against the cool grass. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was the distinct spark of hope that had been ignited in Felix’s raven eyes.

When she awoke, Portia saw Ares waving his sword in the determined pursuit of a bat. The bat flew low, scraping the heads of the small gathering of Gods and landing tauntingly on a branch of one of the newly grown cherry blossom trees. The group charged the creature, but just as they were about to secure the bat in their clutches, it flew off once again.

It took Portia a moment to realize that she was witnessing a game of cat and mouse between Proteus and the Gods who were trying to save her. On the periphery, she saw a bare-chested Felix tending to Max, ripping up his T-shirt to make bandages for the many wounds she had inflicted upon him.

What have I done?

She couldn’t understand how it had all gone so awry.

“I WILL AVENGE THE DEATH OF MY PRECIOUS SONS!” Ares was screaming as the bat continued to elude him.

How could I have been so weak?
Portia sat herself up, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Her limbs felt heavy and the rush to her head took her a minute to shake.

Proteus had flown up to an even higher treetop, transforming back into himself for an instant. Leucosia’s wings were out instantly as she charged him.

“You will never defeat one as powerful as me!” The Shape-shifter was clearly enjoying himself.

Just as Leucosia was about to reach him, Proteus became a snake and slithered down the tree. When he hit the ground, he morphed into a grasshopper, hopping tauntingly in front of Dionysus and Athena.

Regaining her bearings, Portia looked over again at Felix and Max.

“It’s OK, man. It’s all going to be OK…”

She couldn’t believe how clear-headed Felix seemed to be, considering the circumstances. She owed it to him to make it all OK. But her mind was so muddled she couldn’t think straight. The cries of Max’s pain, the soothing words of Felix, Proteus’s taunts to his potential captors. The sounds were all ricocheting in her brain like gunfire, making it impossible for her to focus on any one thought.

Also, something Ligeia had said—no, sung—was circling her thoughts. Something that had her feeling even more overwhelmed. What was it?

She scrambled through her memories of the morning while she watched in horror as Dionysus trapped Proteus, the winged moth, into a wine jug. Within seconds, the glass of the jug exploded, sending shards splintering into Dionysus’s face. A fierce lion appeared, roaring viciously, baring its teeth, and sending Dionysus cowering behind Ares.

Proteus roared again, the sound so loud that it shook the fruit from some of the treetops. A ruby red apple landed on the grass a few inches from where Portia was lying.

Knowing not the fruit I bore,

For she was mine alone…

A flash of light up in the sky interrupted her thoughts. She looked up and saw the spirits of Parthenope and Ligeia circling above the scene, the sound waves of their laughter rippling for miles. But something about their laughter was different to Portia suddenly. It was that it sounded…it sounded, well, pitiful.

“Proteus,” Parthenope began, “Ligeia beseeched me to traverse these many miles so that we may witness your victory with our very eyes. At first I feared for our safety, but now do I see that my sister has not exaggerated your skills as a supreme warrior.”

Portia cleared her throat. It was time for some divide and conquer.

“Oh—I thought you guys came back because you wanted to tell Proteus about the daughter Ligeia has hidden from him for all these years.”

The commotion came to an immediate halt, Proteus instantly morphing back into his own person.

“Of what nonsense does the Siren speak, Ligeia?”

Portia continued as if the question had been addressed to her. Her strength was slowly returning, refueling her will to emerge the victor.

“Yeah, Proteus. For someone who can shift his shape like nobody’s business, it’s hard to believe that you never happened upon your own daughter in your travels. Oh, wait, I guess your travels would have had to lead you to Scylla—the one with the six heads. I think she was the one who raised your daughter after Ligeia…you know…” Portia gesticulated the proverbial knife slashing the throat, “offed herself.”

Proteus’s face crumbled. He looked up at the spirit of his lover, tears clouding his eyes.

“Ligeia, I pray you, tell me this is not so. So many years have I wept for the loss of you. Could I have known the love of a daughter to ease my pain?”

The bird creature’s mouth split into two as Ligeia’s voice feebly attempted to ease the blow.

“Proteus, you cannot know the hurt that was mine at the hand of my own mother, Terpsichore. It was my will that our daughter know only the true love of a mother…”

Her words floated off into the air as a familiar feeling began washing over Portia. A vibration in her throat, a shortness to her breath, an intense awareness of her every pore.

Proteus’s face was filled with rage and hurt. “You had no right, Ligeia. She was but mine to love as well.” His voice rose with fury. “SHE WAS BUT MINE TO LOVE AS WELL!” He repeated, screaming.

Watching him unravel, Portia felt even stronger, the vibration in her throat intensifying. The last time she had felt this way was when the school bus had passed Charlotte’s house. She knew now that the episode she had had on the bus that day was all part of one grand design. She wasn’t sure who exactly the designer was, but that day was destined to unfold the way it did. She had been forced to call upon her new powers in order to stop Mr. Trotter. And now those same powers would lead her to paralyze Proteus, who was already showing signs of weakness.

Rising up, Portia allowed herself a moment to gain her footing. When she felt firmly planted, she took a few steps in Proteus’s direction. He had once again morphed, this time into his favored eagle, and flown into the treetops so that he could confront Ligeia face-to-face.

Bolder with every moment that passed, Portia moved faster, extending a cautious hand to Max’s back as she passed him by to reach the others. The vibration in her throat was soothing, infusing her with the confidence she needed to control the moment. Looking up at the treetops, she was a cannon ready to release fire. She stared down the eagle eyes that looked down upon her and opened her glorious mouth.

Go Beyond Your Voice
.

“You think you are the only one?

To take new form and Gods outrun?

Well I am a Goddess, too,

And now I’m going to outrun you.”

All eyes were upon her immediately as she let out the first lyrics.

“An eagle am I with giant wings,

But get this—this eagle sings!

This leopard’s spots are made of onyx.

This lion’s roar’s a boom that’s sonic.”

Up in the branches, Proteus had unwittingly transitioned back into his own form, the bulge of his scar highlighted by the shining sun.

“You made me think like you I’d be.

But now I have remembered me.

Yes, now I have remembered me…”

Portia approached the tree and focused all of her energy on Proteus. She was well beyond her voice now. Further than she had ever gone, had ever allowed herself to go. She had never felt this strong.

And as her journey into an unchartered vocal stratosphere continued, Proteus began to register something that she recognized as fear.

“I, too, as a snake can slither,

Shedding skin that made me wither.

A peacock now I fan my plumes,

A wisteria with fragrant blooms.”

To his great horror, Proteus started climbing down the tree. He stopped on a branch and closed his eyes, willing himself to transform again, but he was absolutely paralyzed by the voice of the young Siren.

And that voice was beckoning him into the clutches of death.

“Ordained the Queen by honeybees,

A forest full of Maple trees.

I am these things and now I’ll flaunt it.

Watch as I throw down the gauntlet…”

Portia’s wings emerged as she flew up to the branch where a shaking Proteus was perched. She held her hand out to him, forcing him to reach out to her. As she led him down, branch by gnarled branch, she sang even louder, staring directly into the evil God’s eyes.

“Leucosia,” spoke Ligeia, “I beg you, do not let Portia take the life of Proteus, who has shown me only kindness. Have you not caused us enough pain, stealing the love of our mother? Lowering yourself to share love with a mere mortal?”

“…The sun has now entered my corner.

Your pigment pale, you’re quick to mourn her.

And every star that lights night’s skies

Is now the sparkle in my eyes…”

“Ligeia, Parthenope,” Leucosia’s dazzling smile took on a mischievous glow as she spoke the words she had longed to say for so many years. “Get over it.”

She flew up to where Portia was hovering and began circling her protectively.

“A meadow I am lush with grass,

No bones or decaying mass.

You’ve landed on the highest peak,

But I’m the mountain, hear me speak!”

The song of the Siren was too much for the sisters to bear. They hurried away from the battleground, but there was no escaping Portia’s voice.

“…Yes, now I have remembered me…”

Still, as they flew further and further away, even reaching the edges of Hades, the music grew only louder.

“A Bonsai now I am serene,

Knowing you’ll be off the scene…”

The sisters had to escape her song. It was excruciating, haunting them, cursing them, mocking them.

“No longer will this fear I shoulder.

A pebble once, but now a boulder…”

There was only one way to escape.

“A ladybug who brings good fortune,

Ambrosia sweet, a hefty portion.

A bat I can sleep upside down,

The Mayor of this God-filled town,

Of the ship, I am the prow,

Behold I am a SIREN now…”

Together Parthenope and Ligeia plunged down into the deepest layer of Hades, begging entry to Tartarus, a place from which they would never again emerge. As the gates to the hellish abyss opened up for them, they felt tremendous relief.

But just as they began to savor the success of their escape, they heard it. There was no mistaking it. It had followed them. Her voice had followed them. They were surrounded by the song of Portia Griffin, which would now haunt them for an eternity.

♪

Proteus had reached the ground. His instincts told him to run, but the choice was not his to make. Ares approached him slowly, savoring the moment.

“Spare me, Ares. I beg of you. Your sons were weak. It is not my fault that they were lost to you in battle.”

Even Athena had run out of patience at this point. She shot Ares a resolute glance.

“…You made me think like you I’d be…”

“ON YOUR KNEES, PROTEUS!”

The great shape-shifter was sobbing, begging for his life to be spared.

“But now I have remembered me.”

Ares raised his sword.

“Yes, now I have…”

“THIS IS FOR CHARITON AND HESPEROS!”

“remembered me.”

The sword came down with one terrifying swoosh as Proteus’s head rolled inches away from his lifeless body.