by S. L. Stacy
“Come. Come, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. I’m afraid things aren’t as neat as I usually like them to be when we have visitors.”
Looking around, I have no idea what she’s talking about. If this place is untidy, then my apartment must look like it was hit by a tsunami. The living room is done mostly in neutrals, pale browns and grays with accents of ivy green, the open floor plan giving way to a shiny white-and-chrome kitchen.
“Everything looks great, Mom,” Jimmy insists, throwing himself into a brown, plush armchair. I slide off my ankle boots before joining them.
“You didn’t even tell me you were coming.” Settling onto the wraparound couch, she gives her son a stern look. “Not that I don’t enjoy a spontaneous visit from my son. But a little notice might have been nice. Especially since you were bringing a friend.” She beams at me.
“Just wanted to surprise you. And I’m sort of piggybacking on Siobhan’s trip home to see her parents. Any excuse to see my favorite parent.” He grins. Mrs. Wallace rolls her eyes.
“It was a last-minute trip,” I add, plopping down on the other end of the couch.
“Last-minute, huh?” Gabby’s probing dark eyes flick to me. “Hope everything’s okay.”
“Oh, uh, everything’s fine.” I glance at Jimmy, hoping he’ll jump in with a reasonable-sounding story, but he sits there silently, no help at all. “I’ve just been feeling really stressed out at school lately and wanted to see my parents. They always know just what to do to make me feel better because...you know. Parents. They’re the best.” I give a nervous chuckle. Jimmy gapes at me in horror. Even his mother is giving me a weird look, her brow knotted.
“Well, I’m sure a trip home is just what you need.” Recovering, Mrs. Wallace smiles at me again, although it’s closed-lip this time. “Sorry your father isn’t here,” she says to Jimmy. “He had to go into the office this afternoon, but he’ll be back tonight if you’re sticking around. Come back and have dinner with us. You too, Siobhan. Bring your parents.”
Jimmy reclines in the armchair, kicking his legs out. “That’s really nice of you, Mom. But I’m not sure what our plans are. What’s for dinner?”
“I’m thinking of grilling some steaks. Making a salad and roasted potatoes to go with it.”
“That sounds delicious,” I admit.
“My mom is the best cook.” Jimmy is grinning like a little kid. He’s been home five minutes and is, I fear, already regressing.
Gabby shrugs. “I enjoy it. And I like eating healthfully. You never really know what you’re getting when you eat out. What about you, Siobhan? Do you like to cook?” Her son lets out a derisive snort before I can even get a word in. I glare at him, feeling offended on Princess Blondie’s behalf.
“I cook,” I insist. “Sometimes. We have a kitchen at the sorority house.” I try to picture the Gamma Lambda Phi house in my mind. I’ve only been there a few times, but they must have a kitchen. Right? “It has...everything we need, for all the cooking we do.”
Jimmy eyes me skeptically. “Microwaving frozen dinners isn’t cooking.”
“James, be nice. I’m sure it’s hard to cook when you’re so busy with school.” Gabby winks at me. She looks like she’s about to add something else, but then a phone rings in the kitchen, distracting her. “Oh, that might be your father,” she says, getting up. “Excuse me.”
As she goes into the next room, I stand up, wandering over to a mirror mounted on the wall by the front door.
“Your mom’s nice,” I tell Jimmy, studying my illusion’s reflection in its streak-free surface. Siobhan’s violet eyes stare back at me. Everything, from the pale skin and peony pink lips, to the fall of silky blonde hair, looks foolproof. And the dress looks great on me. Her.
Like any fantasy or daydream, the illusions I weave start in my mind. I imagine them, then a type of chemical substance only my brother and I can produce releases them out into the world. Once outside, the chemical screws with other people’s senses and perceptions. It has a faint but telling smell, an oddly pleasing mixture of sweetness and decay. Most people can’t even smell it, but occasionally I come across someone who can. Siobhan, for one. And maybe now Rodriguez. It sucks. If you detect it, it completely gives us away.
Luckily, like I said, most people can’t. Jimmy’s mother certainly doesn’t seem to be sensitive to it. As far as she’s concerned, I’m her son’s high school sweetheart he’s reconnected with. She probably already has our wedding venue picked out.
“She’s the best.” In the mirror, I see Jimmy hop up from the chair. “The illusion is eerily convincing,” he whispers, coming to stand next to me. “Now, all you have to work on is the whole making conversation thing.”
I throw him a quick glare. “I’m making great conversation.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never heard you sound so awkward before. Just relax. Be normal.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m being a little ‘awkward,’ but I’m trying to convince your mother I’m the little blonde angel you dated in high school.” Giving him my back, I go over to their stone fireplace, studying the pictures on the mantel.
He follows me. “We were barely a thing back then. We liked each other, sure, and we dated for a little while. But then she turned into a huge bitch. You seem to harbor this certain impression of her, but honestly, she’s no angel.”
I shrug, picking up one of the framed photographs. It looks like it was taken a few years ago, the whole fam on a white sandy beach somewhere. His mother is wearing a big sun hat and a red, one-piece bathing suit. A man with gray-flecked, sandy colored hair and what I must admit is a pretty nice bod, for an older guy, is leaning into her, one hand around her waist, the other shielding his face from the sun. Jimmy’s dad, I’m guessing. Jimmy is on his mother’s other side, sprawled out on a beach towel in a pair of black swim trunks. Anna sits next to their father, her brown hair pulled back in a long braid, wearing a plaid shirt like a jacket, open in front to reveal a shiny, blue bikini.
Jimmy notices me studying the picture. “That was taken the summer after Anna and I graduated. On a beach outside of São Paulo, where our grandparents live.”
“It’s a nice picture of you guys. You look happy.”
The photograph beside it is of his parents, taken much longer ago. Gabby has big eighties hair and, although she’s still in good shape now, is as slender and elegant as a rose in her sequined red dress. Mr. Wallace is wearing white dress pants and a red sport coat, and they’re standing outside of a glitzy club called Dama do Lago.
“That’s the nightclub my mom was singing at when she met my dad.” Jimmy picks up the photograph, studying it. “They were back there visiting when he asked her to marry him, and they got this picture taken. Dad was on spring break with his friends when they first met. He…” Trailing off, he sets the picture back down, laughing softly to himself. “My dad always says he fell in love with her when he first heard her singing. Before he’d even laid eyes on her. Then again, he’s always been a hopeless romantic.”
“That’s probably not far off from the truth.” I’ve moved on down the mantel to two, more formal-looking pictures of Jimmy and his sister. I grin. “You look good in this one,” I tell him. “Seriously. You rock a suit and tie.”
He cringes. “That is my senior picture, and I look like a big dork. And what did you mean by that?”
“Mean by what? That you looked good? I was being serious.”
“No, about my dad falling in love with my mom’s singing first not being too far from the truth.”
“Oh, I just…” I glance in the other room, but Gabby Wallace is still on the phone, strolling up and down the kitchen while she talks. “Well, you already know you and your sister are part Olympian. I figured you also realized Anna’s a siren. Your mom is, too, although she doesn’t know it.”
“A siren,” Jimmy repeats, crossing his arms. “What, like a mermaid? But Anna doesn’t even really like the beach, or the water. And what does th
at make me?”
I shrug. “The mythology isn’t perfect. It just means her halfling power is her song. Same with you, but not quite to the same degree. The siren ability is passed down the maternal line. Sorry, I thought you knew.” Guilt stabs through me. “It’s why Ares wanted her.”
His eyes widen. “I thought they fell in love. You make it sound like he chose her for something.”
“They did. And...he did.” Lowering my voice, I lean in closer to Jimmy. He stiffens, angry at this revelation, but doesn’t pull away. “I’m not on Ares’s side anymore. You do know that, right? Now that I have my brother back...that’s all I cared about. And I should tell you: I don’t think Anna should be seeing him. She’s in way over her head. You have to do something.”
“I have to do something?”
“Well, yeah. She’s your sister.”
“Anna does whatever she wants.” Turning away from me, he walks back over to his chair, sitting on the edge of the cushion this time. “I’m her brother, not her keeper.”
“Of course. I’m just saying you should watch out for her,” I argue. “And, yeah, maybe try to convince her to break up with him. I don’t care how strong she thinks she is, Ares is a force of nature. It’s like a rabbit trying to have a relationship with a wolf.”
Jimmy straightens up at this. “Is that what you think of us?”
“Huh?”
“That I’m just your bunny.”
“What? No! No, of course not.” I walk over, perching on the end of the couch that’s closest to him. “We’re talking about Ares here. He’s the wolf. I’m just a...I dunno, a fox or something. Cute, but crafty. You’re strong, but also loyal and protective. Like a dog.”
He seems to consider this, then nods. “I can live with that. If I were a dog, I think I’d be a Great Dane.”
“Fine,” I sputter, “be a Great Dane, and I’m a fox, and it was just a stupid analogy—”
“Sorry about that.” I’m relieved when Gabby’s musical voice cuts me off as she sweeps back into the living room. “That was your avô,” she adds to Jimmy, lowering herself gracefully onto the couch beside me. “They are thinking about coming up around the holidays. Won’t that be nice?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Jimmy says again, seeming to recover himself. Guess he’s having a little trouble transitioning from talk of sirens, gods, and his sister’s doomed love life to discussing a holiday visit from his grandparents. “That’ll be cool. Look, I’m sorry, Mom, but we gotta get going.” He stands abruptly, looking apologetic. “I’ll let you know if we can come back for dinner.”
“Oh.” Startled, his mother gets to her feet, nodding. “Of course. You need to stop by the Elliots. Siobhan, tell your parents I said hello.”
I smile, standing up. “Sure, of course. It was nice to meet...it was nice seeing you again, Gabby,” I correct myself quickly.
“You too, sweetie.” She pulls me in for a final hug. This time, I feel more relaxed in it, her arms no longer noose-like in their grip. “Don’t be a stranger. And you.” Letting me go, she turns to her son, embracing him tightly. “Take care of yourself, James. And take care of your sister. You need each other.”
“I will.” He meets my gaze over her shoulder, worrying his bottom lip. “Te amo. I love you, Mom.”
“Também te amo. Take care,” Gabby says for the hundredth time as she follows us out the front door. “If you don’t make it back for dinner, make sure you grab a bite somewhere before the drive back.”
“We will.” Already jogging down the porch steps, Jimmy gives her one last wave. “’Bye, Mom.”
“So long, Gabby.” I turn to go, but Gabby’s cool hand at my elbow brings me to a stop.
“Actually, Siobhan, I’d like to talk to you. It will only take a second.”
“Oh, uh, sure. Of course.” Although I make no further move to leave, Gabby’s fingers tighten on my arm. Realizing I’m not behind him, Jimmy hesitates, looking back up at us.
“We won’t be too long,” his mother calls down to him, smiling. “Just some girl talk.”
“It’s okay, Jimmy,” I tell him, trying to ignore my hammering heart. “You go on ahead.”
Nodding, he gives in, going over to the truck. Once inside, he starts it up and turns on some music. Soon, tinny guitar chords and frenzied drum rolls are floating out the open windows.
Still latched onto me like a bear trap, Gabby yanks me around to face her.
“Gabby, I—”
“It’s Mrs. Wallace,” she snaps. Gone is the gentle, motherly woman from inside. This person’s tone is audial ice, her eyes narrowed into snake-like slits. “And who might you be?”
“I...uh...Siobhan, you know that—”
“You are not Siobhan. That much I know.” Even as she lets me go, her razor-sharp gaze keeps me pinned in place. “But the question remains: What are you? And what do you want with my son?”
Chapter 9
“I’m a guilty one, and know what I have done”
“I don’t understand.” I resist the impulse to take a step back. Gabby continues glaring at me. “Who else would I be?” She can’t possibly know anything about our world, the Olympian world. I’d know it. Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time today my instincts were wrong.
She studies me with those dark, probing eyes. I can almost feel them slicing into me, dismantling the illusion I’ve so carefully constructed. “I don’t know,” she finally admits. I quietly whistle out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I just know you’re not the real Siobhan, no friend of my son’s. You are a trick, a lie. Like Curupira, leading my son astray.”
“Actually, he’s inspired by one of my brothers,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” Working in the history department at Thurston University, I’ve come to learn a thing or two about Earth’s myths and legends, including Curupira. I’m visually nothing like the red-haired creature with backwards feet who confuses travelers in Brazilian folklore, but I get the connotation. Trickster. Demon. Even though I’m reassured she doesn’t know precisely who I am, the accusation hits too close to home for comfort.
I glance back to where Jimmy is waiting for me in the car. He’s peering out the window, turning quickly away when he sees me looking.
“I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to upset you,” I continue, turning back to his mother. “Really, I am. But I want you to know I am a friend of Jimmy’s, no matter what you might think. I only want good things for him.”
“You may be well-intentioned,” she agrees, “but a lost soul such as yourself can only bring pain and destruction to those she cares about. You can be his friend by leaving him alone.” With that last bit of advice, Gabby turns, disappearing back into the house. The door bangs closed behind her.
Hot, angry tears prick the corners of my eyes. Biting them back, I go over to the car.
“What was that all about?” Jimmy asks me as I get inside. I feel his eyes on me but keep my gaze resolutely out the passenger side window, arms crossed against my chest like a shield.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just some girl talk, like your mom said. Drive.”
Jimmy hesitates. The truck is on but still in park, the engine rumbling underneath us. Another old rock song grates against the speakers. After a while, the car gives a lurch, and Jimmy pulls onto the road.
“My mom said something not-so-nice to you,” he guesses. I give another shrug. “Come on, Pat. Tell me what she said.”
“She knew.” I glance over at him. “Not exactly who I am, but she knew, on some level, I wasn’t Siobhan.”
“Don’t take her too seriously. She’s pretty superstitious.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t paranoia. She knew something wasn’t right. I could see it in her eyes.”
“Alright.” He sighs, sounding unconvinced. “Maybe she had a hunch. But it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t matter.”
“She could warn the Elliots,” I point out.
H
e shrugs his eyebrows, still skeptical. “I don’t think she will. Our parents don’t talk much anymore. They were friendly with each other when Siobhan, Anna and I were in school, but that’s just because their kids were friends. In any case, I’ll keep an eye on things, make sure she doesn’t say anything to them.”
Not feeling the slightest bit reassured by this, I nod. I resume staring out the window, watching the brick houses with their white fences and tidy gardens roll by. “She told me I should leave you alone.”
“Well.” When I feel the brush of Jimmy’s hand on my arm, I give a start, looking over at him. “I sincerely hope you don’t.” His hand returns quickly to the steering wheel. The warmth it leaves behind doesn’t evaporate quite as readily. Instead, it twines through me, leaving me a little breathless.
“She’s probably right, you know.” My mind plays Gabby’s last words to me on repeat. A lost soul such as yourself can only bring pain and destruction to those she cares about. She’d sounded a lot like my own mother, who had said something similar a long time ago, right before she locked me and my siblings away in Pandora.
I’m so sorry, Mother had sobbed, gathering the nine of us close to her for the last time. You’re only children, and this isn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be born evil, but you were. You are abominations. If I don’t do something now, you’ll just end up hurting yourselves. Or someone else. To her, she was protecting the rest of the world from evil. From us.
From me.
“I’ve never been a stickler for my parents’ rules. Or any rules, for that matter.” Glancing sideways at me, Jimmy briefly catches my gaze. And, just like every time our eyes meet, I see a kindness shining in his, a tenderness I know I don’t deserve. “I don’t see any reason to start now.”
He turns his attention back to the road, and I find myself smiling even though I know he’s nuts. If he had any sense of self-preservation, he’d stay far away from me. I know at least part of it isn’t his fault. I’ve got my little Olympian finger wrapped around him, and he’ll never be truly free until I decide to let go.