Wake (Watersong Novels) (16 page)

“That’s incredible,” Gemma breathed, staring in awe at her skin. “How is this possible?”

“It’s the salt water,” Thea answered and threw a sundress at her.

Gemma caught it and stood up. She half expected her legs to collapse back into a tail beneath her, but they stood strong. Hurriedly, she pulled the dress over her head, putting it on over her tank top, and kicking off her torn up shorts.

“Well, it’s not just the salt,” Penn corrected her. “You can add salt to freshwater, but it won’t really work. It’s the sea. You may feel hints of it in ordinary water, but you won’t transform unless you’re in the ocean.”

“But … what if I hadn’t transformed?” Gemma asked. “I would’ve died if I hadn’t turned into a siren.”

“You’re fine now,” Thea said. She crouched down in the center of the cove and began building a fire.

“Of course, it hurts when you do a back-flop into the ocean.” Lexi giggled. “You’re supposed to dive, silly.”

“I didn’t know that, since you pushed me.” Gemma glared at Penn. “Why didn’t you just tell me what was going on?”

“That would spoil all the fun.” Penn winked at her, as if she were referring to a private joke instead of Gemma’s near-death.

The fire Thea had been working on suddenly roared into life, filling the dark cove with warm light. Penn sat close to the flames, stretching out her long legs and leaning back on her arms. Lexi sat next to her while Thea seemed content to kneel in front of the pit, stoking the fire.

“You did this to me,” Gemma said, but she wasn’t accusatory. She wasn’t sure what exactly they had done to her, so she couldn’t tell if it was a gift or a curse. So far, it felt a lot like a gift, but she still didn’t trust Penn. “You turned me into this siren or whatever. Why?”

“Well, that’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it?” Penn smiled.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” Lexi patted the ground next to her. “It’s a rather long story.”

Gemma stayed where she was, standing by the mouth of the cove. The waves from the bay lapped against the shore, and the engines of boats hummed in the distance. She glanced out at the night, already longing to get back into the ocean.

The last time she’d been out here, Penn had nearly killed her, and it was only a few minutes ago that Penn had pushed her off the top of a cliff. It was hard to juxtapose that with the knowledge that they had given her the most wonderful, exhilarating experience of her life.

Swimming as a siren had been by far the most glorious feeling she’d ever experienced. Even as she stood there, arms crossed over her chest and seawater dripping off her skin, she wanted to get back in the water.

It took all Gemma’s energy to force herself to stay on the shore, to hear what they had to tell her. But she couldn’t bring herself to step in closer to move farther away from the water that seemed to sing to her.

“Suit yourself.” Lexi shrugged when Gemma refused to move.

“It is actually quite a long story,” Penn said. “It goes back to when the world was young, when gods and goddesses still lived freely among the mortals.”

“Gods and goddesses?” Gemma raised an eyebrow.

“You’re skeptical?” Thea laughed, a dry, bitter sound that echoed off the walls. “Your legs just transformed into fins, and you’re skeptical?”

Gemma lowered her eyes but said nothing. Thea had a point. After everything she’d seen and felt the last couple of days, she would believe anything they told her. She had no choice, really. Any answer would have to be beyond her scope of reasoning to explain the supernatural things that were happening.

“The gods often lived here on earth, sometimes helping the humans with their lives or merely watching their joys and sorrows for their own amusement,” Penn went on. “Achelous was one such god. He ruled over all the freshwater, nourishing all life on Earth. Gods were the rock stars of their times, and they often had many lovers. Achelous was involved with many of the muses.”

“Muses?” Gemma asked.

“Yes, muses,” Penn explained patiently. “They are the daughters of Zeus, born to inspire and enthrall the mortals.”

“So, what does that mean?” Gemma moved closer to the fire and sat down on a large rock. “What does being a muse entail?”

“Have you heard of Horace’s Odes?” Penn asked, and Gemma shook her head.

“I’m not in Honors English, but I have heard of Homer’s
Odyssey
.”

“The Odyssey,”
Thea scoffed. “Homer is an idiot.”

“Ignore her. She’s just bitter because she was completely omitted from
The Odyssey
.” Penn waved her off. “Back to your question, a muse helped Horace write some of his prose. She didn’t write it herself, exactly, but she gave him the inspiration and motivation for his work.”

“I think I get it.” Gemma’s brow remained furrowed, though, as if she didn’t completely understand it.

“A muse’s job isn’t important anyway,” Penn said, deciding to move on. “Achelous had a love affair with the muse of song, and together they had two daughters, Thelxiepeia and Aglaope. He then became involved with the muse of dance, and they had a daughter, Peisinoe.”

“Those are really ridiculous names,” Gemma commented. “Didn’t anybody go by Mary or Judy back then?”

“I know, right?” Lexi laughed. “Things are so much easier to spell now.”

“Despite the fact that their father was a god, Thelxiepeia, Aglaope, and Peisinoe were the bastard offspring of his affairs with servants, so they grew up without anything,” Penn continued.

“Wait. Muses were servants?” Gemma asked. “But their father was Zeus. Wasn’t he the most powerful god or whatever? Shouldn’t they be queens?”

“You would think that, but no.” Penn shook her head. “Muses were created to serve man. Yes, they were beautiful and brilliant, talented beyond all measure. They were revered and worshipped by those they inspired, but in the end, they spent their days working for starving artists and poets. They lived a bohemian lifestyle, feeding into man’s desires. When the poets had finished their sonnets, the artists their paintings, the muses were cast aside and forgotten.”

“They were glorified prostitutes,” Thea summed up.

“Exactly,” Penn agreed. “Achelous all but disavowed his daughters, and their mothers were busy servicing men. Thelxiepeia, Aglaope, and Peisinoe were forced to fend for themselves.”

“Thelxiepeia tried to take care of her younger sisters,” Thea interjected. She gave Penn a hard look, the light from the fire dancing and casting shadows over her lovely features, making her appear almost demonic. “But Peisinoe was never satisfied.”

“One cannot be satisfied living on the streets.” Penn turned her attention from Gemma to Thea, meeting her gaze evenly. “Thelxiepeia did the best she could, but starvation isn’t good enough.”

“They weren’t starving!” Thea snapped. “They had work! They could’ve made a life for themselves!”

“Work.” Penn rolled her eyes. “They were servants!”

Both Lexi and Gemma watched the exchange between Penn and Thea with fascination. The two girls stared each other down across the fire, and for a moment neither of them said anything. The tension in the air was so thick, Gemma was too afraid to break the silence.

“That was a very long time ago,” Lexi said quietly. She stayed close to Penn and gazed up at her, almost adoringly.

“Yes, it was,” Penn agreed, finally pulling her death stare from Thea and looking back at Gemma. “They were starving on the streets. Even Thelxiepeia knew it. That’s why she went to her father, begging him to find them work.

“They were old enough then that they had started getting the attention of men,” Penn went on. “The three sisters had inherited many gifts from their mothers, including their beauty and talent for song and dance.”

“Thelxiepeia thought honest work would be the best way to get out of the life,” Thea said, joining the conversation in a much more reasonable tone. The anger had gone from her voice, and she was simply telling the same tale as Penn. “Peisinoe, on the other hand, thought marriage was the way to escape.”

“It was a different time then,” Penn explained. “Women didn’t have the choices and the rights they have now. Getting a man to take care of you was the only way out.”

“That was only part of it. Thelxiepeia was the oldest, most experienced. But Peisinoe was only fourteen. She was still a romantic and a dreamer. She believed if she fell in love, a prince would sweep her off her feet.”

“She was young and stupid,” Penn said, almost to herself, then she shook her head quickly. “The job Achelous found for his daughters was working as handmaidens for Persephone. A handmaiden is just a servant, helping to dress and clean up for a spoiled brat.”

“Oh, she was not a spoiled brat,” Thea chastised her.

“She was, too,” Penn insisted. “She was horrible, constantly entertaining suitors, and Achelous’s daughters should’ve had handmaidens of their own. It was an abomination, and Persephone never cared. She just ordered them around like she was married to Zeus.”

“Tell Gemma about Ligeia,” Lexi suggested, reminding Gemma of a small child who asked to be read the same story every night even though she knew all the words.

“Ligeia was working as a handmaiden for Persephone when Thelxiepeia, Aglaope, and Peisinoe started,” Penn said, and Lexi smiled at her. “Ligeia wasn’t their sister, but they loved her like she was. And Ligeia had the most beautiful singing voice. It truly was the loveliest sound anyone had ever heard.

“As a servant, Ligeia actually did very little work,” Penn said. “She spent most of her days singing for Persephone, but nobody minded because her singing was so enchanting. It made everything seem better.

“But it wasn’t all work,” Penn went on. “The four girls were only teenagers and needed to have fun. As often as they could, they would escape from their servitude and go out to the ocean to swim and sing.”

“It was Ligeia’s songs that commanded an audience,” Thea said. “She and Aglaope would sit perched in the trees on the shore, singing in perfect harmony, while Thelxiepeia and Peisinoe would swim.”

“But it wasn’t just swimming,” Penn clarified. “It was entrancing, underwater dancing. They put on a show just as much as Ligeia and Aglaope did.”

“They did, and travelers would come to see it,” Thea agreed. “They even attracted the attention of gods like Poseidon.”

“Poseidon was the god of the ocean,” Penn explained. “In her naïveté, Peisinoe thought she could entice him with her swimming, and he would fall in love with her and take her away.

“And maybe he did fall in love with her.” Penn brushed the sand away from her legs and stared into the fire. “Many men and a few gods have fallen for her over the years. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.”

“Persephone was engaged to be wed,” Thea said, taking back the story. “She had much to do, but instead of helping her, all four of her handmaidens went out to the ocean to swim and sing. Poseidon had invited them out, and Peisinoe was certain that this would be the day he would ask her to marry him. If she could just impress him enough.”

“Unfortunately, that also happened to be the day when someone decided to abduct and rape Persephone,” Penn said. “The handmaidens were supposed to watch over her, but they weren’t even close enough to hear her screams.”

“Her mother, Demeter, was a goddess, and she was furious,” Thea said. “She told Achelous of his daughters’ failure to protect Persephone. But since Achelous was more powerful than Demeter, she had to ask for his permission before she could inflict a punishment on Thelxiepeia, Aglaope, and Peisinoe.”

“Peisinoe knew their father wouldn’t protect them, as he hadn’t cared about them their entire life, so she went to Poseidon, begging him to intervene,” Penn said. “She pleaded with him, offering him every part of herself unconditionally if he would only help her and her sisters.”

There was a long pause during which nobody said anything. Gemma had leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees as she hung on every word.

“But he didn’t,” Penn said, so quietly Gemma could barely hear her over the lapping of waves. “Nobody saved them. They only had each other to rely on, the way they always had, the way they always would.”

“Demeter cursed them to the life they had chosen instead of protecting her daughter,” Thea explained. “She made them immortal, so they would have to live with their folly every day without end. The things they loved would become the things they despised.”

“What things?” Gemma asked.

“They had been too busy flirting, swimming, and singing when Persephone was kidnapped,” Thea said. “So that’s what they were cursed to become.”

“She made them part bird, with a voice so hypnotic no man could deny it,” Penn said. “Men would be completely enraptured by it and have to follow it.

“But Demeter also made the girls part fish, so they could never be far from the water. When their suitors came for them, following the sound of their voices, their ships would crash into the shore and they would die.”

“That, of course, isn’t the worst part of the curse,” Thea explained with a wry smile. “Every man would fall in love with their voice, their lovely appearance, but no man would ever get past that. They’d never really know the girls for who they actually were, never really love them. It would be impossible for any of the four girls to ever really fall in love and be genuinely loved in return.”

FIFTEEN

Remember Me

Penn and Thea were silent for a time, letting Gemma absorb it all. But it was fairly obvious what the story was about.

“You’re the three sisters?” Gemma pointed to them one by one. “Peisinoe, Thelxiepeia, and Aglaope.”

“Not exactly.” Penn shook her head. “It’s true that I was once Peisinoe, and Thea was once Thelxiepeia. But Lexi is a replacement for Ligeia, who died many, many years ago.”

“Wait. Lexi
replaced
one of you?” Gemma asked. “Why do you have replacements? And where’s your other sister, Aglaope?”

“It’s part of Demeter’s curse,” Thea answered. “We chose our friend and sisters over her daughter, then we must always be with our friends and sisters. There must always be four of us, together. We can never leave or be apart for more than a few weeks at a time.”