Harley Merlin 18: Persie Merlin and Leviathan’s Gift

by Forrest, Bella

  “You put in a sterling effort,” he said.

  “Go to hell,” I replied, trying to will strength into my weakened form.

  He ignored me. A faceless churning of water. If only he’d been voiceless, too. “I have come to name the child.”

  “I didn’t think you were here to bring balloons.”

  He laughed. “So beautiful. So fresh.” He reached forward with a tendril of water to touch her hand, and I lashed out with a jolt of Air to push his tendril away. A warning.

  “Don’t touch her!” I snarled. I felt an overwhelming instinct to protect my child from him, spurred on by rage and panic. He’d caught me at my most vulnerable, but I still had some fight left when it came to my baby. I’d always have some fight left for her.

  “Temper, temper.” But he retreated. “I do not want unpleasantness.”

  I flipped back the covers, making to get out of bed but hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff. “Then go away!”

  “Stay at your bed. Rest.” He bobbed around to the far side of my little girl’s cot. “She will need you to be strong.”

  “I’ll show you how freaking strong I am.” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and prayed for Wade to come back from grabbing coffee. Undoubtedly, Leviathan had waited until I was alone.

  “There is no need.” Leviathan reached forward again. This time, his watery touch brushed her cheek, leaving a glistening streak. “She is Persephone. She has been named. And when she reaches maturity, I will bestow a second gift… Happy Birthday, my darling.” A glowing green bead of light floated out of his watery form and sank into my baby’s chest. She didn’t stir, as though nothing had happened. I tried to lunge for him, to stop it, but he’d already gone. Leaving a puddle on the floor where he’d been.

  The deed had been done. My daughter had been named, and I’d had no say in it whatsoever. And if I went against him… well, it wasn’t worth facing the consequences of breaking a deal like that. The only thing we’d been able to do was shorten her name to Persie, so we didn’t have to be constantly reminded of the creature who’d tied her fate to his in some unknown way.

  Some unknown way… That was the worst part. He hadn’t left us any instructions or details. He’d swooped in, named her, told me about a gift, and left again. The gift concerned me the most, especially as Persie edged closer to eighteen. I’d tried to get more out of him several times, but his lips had been sealed. Which proceeded to worry me even more over the years. Deliberate silence represented a greater threat than frank honesty.

  Feeling the familiar anxiety grow, I watched a plump brown bird flutter to its nest. Chicks chirped, open-mouthed, for juicy worms. If only human parenting were that simple. Keep them fed, keep them alive, then kick them out when they were ready to fly. I’d tried to be a normal mom, I really had. But with Leviathan’s shadow over our lives, I’d turned into more of a helicopter parent than I cared to admit. Always hovering over Persie, trying to protect her from just about everything. I’d shot a fireball at a bumblebee once, and even pushed a nasty older kid who’d been bullying her into a pond with a sneaky push of Telekinesis. Not my proudest moment. Maybe it was partially the foster kid coming through, too. I’d never known safety or consistency as a kid. I might have gone overboard with Persie, to make up for what I’d only found with the Smiths, years too late to make much difference.

  “Go easy on her, sis. Squeeze too tight and she’ll try to wriggle free,” Finch had advised, a long time ago. He’d been a bit more cavalier in his approach to parenting. The “let them eat mud and fall out of trees so they’ll learn their lesson” kind of dad. Typical Finch. Then again, he had two of the politest, most levelheaded kids in the known universe: Diana and Kestrel. Kes couldn’t do enough for people. Kind and sweet and earnest at thirteen years old, I occasionally doubted he belonged to Finch at all. Diana, on the other hand, had more of an edge to her. Six months younger than Persie, she was whip smart, like her mom, with the same dry humor as her dad. A potent mix of genes that made for one formidable young woman. They had Ryann to thank for that, for sure. She had this natural maternal instinct about her that I envied. It had never come intuitively to me. I’d just muddled through as best I could, hoping love would be enough to not screw Persie up.

  Have I squeezed too tight? I loved her more than anything. From the moment I knew she existed, my heart had been hers. Everything I’d done, I’d done out of fear for her safety. When she’d asked me about Leviathan, I’d been as honest as I could: it was an unknown threat, but he was dangerous. The only thing I’d omitted was the depth of their bond—that he’d named her. But that was only to stop her from thinking about herself, and her name, in a different way. A bad way. At least, that’s what I’d convinced myself.

  Oh, and the ominous gift he intends to give her. I’d left that part out, too. It would only have cast a shadow over her life, the way it had cast a shadow over mine and Wade’s. She’d have constantly looked forward, instead of living in the moment. I hadn’t wanted that for her. I’d wanted to bear that weight for her. And, deep down, I still hoped I could stop it. I’d stopped evils before. If I threw enough firepower at the problem, why couldn’t I save my daughter, too? Then, she’d never have to know she’d been in peril.

  “We thought the dangers were over, didn’t we? We thought we’d have a normal life when all those old troubles were over with.” I dwelled on the distant memories we all shared, the old Rag Team. Now, we were moms and dads, complaining about wayward kids and stressing out over exams and homework and lunch prep instead of global catastrophes. And there must’ve been something in the water, almost two decades ago, because kids had come left, right, and center. Finch and Ryann had a wedding and Diana soon after, followed by Kes, five years later. Astrid and Garrett had Merrick the same year that Diana and Persie came into our lives. Then Santana and Raffe had trumped us all by adopting four kids! Marius was nineteen. Azar, their only daughter, had just turned seventeen. Both of them so beautiful they literally stopped traffic. Then they’d adopted Cy, a feisty ten-year-old with a love for all bugs, which had led to a few unpleasant discoveries—scorpions running loose in the coven, beetles in his hair, that sort of thing. And Angelo, who was six going on sixty. He cracked me up, sometimes saying things that sounded like Nash.

  I should give him a call. The new Muppet Babies, as Finch called them, stopped by from time to time, but it had been a while since we’d made proper plans to see each other. Too long. I supposed adult life did that.

  I should call Tatyana, too. She was the one person from the old squad who wasn’t around anymore. After a messy breakup with Dylan about ten years ago, she’d packed up and headed back to Russia with Saskia. I hadn’t checked in with her as much as I should’ve. Though I guessed it worked both ways.

  “Our work is never done, it seems,” I told the bird, though it wasn’t listening to my human problems. In addition to the Leviathan issue, magicals had been disappearing recently, and we didn’t know why. We’d been tracing the incidents and trying to locate the missing people, to no avail. Another reason I had to keep close watch over Persie. Her name and her vulnerability could well make her a target, and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if anything bad happened to her.

  Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked Tobe, Persie, and Genie—the latter two looking guilty as sin. I hurried in from the balcony.

  “Harley.” Tobe bowed, his wings ruffling. “Apologies for the interruption. I am afraid I have rather disheartening news.”

  “Is that so?” I put my mom voice on, as Persie refused to meet my gaze. I knew it couldn’t have anything to do with her lessons, since Tobe had brought her here. And she was a model student. My mind whirred to try and figure it out—something harmless, probably. A prank or joke that Tobe hadn’t found funny. Other than the occasional slap on the wrist for that kind of thing, Persie had a clean record. A fact I couldn’t have been prouder of.

  “I thought I would leave your daughter with you wh
ile I take Miss Vertis to her father,” Tobe continued.

  Genie huffed a sigh. “And what a treat that’ll be.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be so bad,” Persie reassured her, her voice tight with anxiety. I liked Genie, even if I occasionally had concerns about the Atlantean’s impish influence. The two of them were like cream cheese and jelly—a pairing that shouldn’t have fit, yet somehow did. She always brought Persie out of her shell, coaxing her out of her room when she otherwise would have buried herself in sketching and books.

  “He’ll throw the book at me. And you know how heavy those things are.” She flashed Persie a resigned smile. “In fact, if you listen really closely, I’m pretty sure you can hear the vein in his temple popping from here.”

  My daughter laughed, but not much. The pair of them clearly knew they were in deep crap. I just didn’t know what sort of crap… yet.

  “What did they do?” I asked.

  “I discovered your daughter and Miss Vertis attempting to approach Leviathan’s enclosure,” Tobe replied. “Indeed, they might have achieved it, had the gargoyles not warned me of their presence.”

  What?! After everything I’ve said? The peaceful afternoon turned sour in a heartbeat. I gripped my mug to try and stop the world from spinning. She knew better than that! I’d told her of the danger. I’d warned her so many times. What was she thinking, trying to sneak in behind my back to see that slimy creature? This proved it. That girl needed a helicopter parent, nearly eighteen or not. I’d never let the “if you live under my roof, you live under my rules” cliché slip out of my mouth, but I felt dangerously close.

  “We shall be going, now.” Tobe gave Genie a stern look.

  “Lead the way, Beast Maestro.”

  He grumbled in the back of his throat, bordering on a reluctant chuckle. “Maestro?”

  “I think it suits you.” She looped her arm through his, and he was too gentlemanly to pull away. Instead, he escorted her out of the room like they were heading to a swanky ball. I even caught sight of a half-amused, half-bemused grin on his face as they exited. That girl had a way of winning over just about anyone, even in a situation like this. The only person immune to her charms was her father, which was probably for the best.

  Persie stayed by the door. Head down, shuffling awkwardly, she emanated remorse. The question was—did she feel sorry because of what she’d done, or because she’d been caught?

  “Go easy on her.” Finch’s words came back into my head. I paced a little, tapping the side of my mug frenetically. I had to keep calm. If I blew a fuse at her, she’d run in the opposite direction. Yes, she needed reining in, but there were ways to go about it. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

  Silence stretched between us. Then, all at once, our voices rose in a clash.

  “What were you—” I jumped in.

  “Before you start yelling, I just want to—”

  “—thinking! I told you about Leviathan. I’ve warned you about—”

  “—make it clear that I didn’t have a choice. We don’t know what his deal is. I don’t know what his—”

  “—going there, so many times. I thought you understood! Do you think I make these rules up for a laugh?” I had no idea if she was even listening.

  She held my gaze, wide-eyed. “Mom, will you listen to me? I’m trying to explain!”

  I fidgeted with the pendant around my neck, the same one Isadora had worn. The Merlin heirloom made me feel closer to those I’d lost along the way. I clutched it tight in my palm and tried to draw strength from it. My parents had never had the chance to deal with a teenager. I often wondered what sort of teenager I’d have been, if things had been different. I had a feeling I would’ve been just as headstrong. They might’ve wanted to kick me out of the nest, by the end of it. So perhaps I owed Persie a chance to remedy this.

  I took a steadying breath. “Then explain.”

  “I know you didn’t want me going near him, but I had to! You don’t know why he’s a threat to me. Isn’t it better to find out, instead of wondering?” She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets. My jeans, but I wasn’t about to bring that up now. “He won’t speak to you. I thought… I thought he might speak to me.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” I said flatly. Without magic, she was vulnerable in most magical situations, which I supposed added to my overprotectiveness. But this was on another level. Leviathan spelled pure, unadulterated danger. And she had nothing to defend herself with, even if she’d taken Genie with her. Even an Atlantean was no match for someone like him.

  “Why not? He’s behind magic glass, and I had Genie with me. Plus, I knew Tobe was around if we needed help.” Her eyes hardened. I hated seeing her like this, set against me. “I need answers, Mom. I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine, when there’s this secret about me that nobody knows. Why shouldn’t I know what the deal is between us? It’s better than not knowing and waiting for some… whatever to take me by surprise!”

  She had a point. A very good one. And, with her eighteenth birthday fast approaching, I didn’t know how much longer we had before Leviathan finally gave up his secrets and revealed the true extent of his threat. But…

  “It’s my job to keep you safe.” I didn’t know what else to say.

  She looked away. “How do you plan to do that, when you don’t even know what kind of danger I’m in?”

  I heaved a sigh, speechless. I didn’t have an answer. Only a silence that spoke volumes and a gathering dread in the pit of my stomach.

  Three

  Persie

  “See, you can’t give me an answer!” My voice took on a pathetic note. A high-pitched, unnatural sound, as though I’d sucked in a whole balloon of helium. What was it about being in front of your mom, knowing you’d done wrong, that regressed you back to childhood? I summoned what I hoped sounded more like maturity. “No one can… aside from Leviathan.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I don’t know the specifics. I know he’s dangerous, and that’s all that matters.” My mom tapped the side of her mug, a jarring sound that pecked at my skull with woodpecker precision. “And I know how to protect you. I’ve been doing it your entire life, and I was protecting people long before then, too. Do I need to remind you that—”

  My eyes threatened to roll back into my sockets. “That you saved the world… twice. But this is different! I don’t want to fight anyone. I don’t want to save the world. I just want the truth.” I bit the inside of my fleshy cheek. Anything to stop my voice from rising again. In the famous words of Michel de Montaigne, fabled philosopher of the French Renaissance: He who establishes his argument by noise and command shows that his reason is weak. Or, more simply, once you shouted, you lost the argument.

  “We don’t know the truth. We only know what we know.” My mom kept tapping. An endless percussion that made me want to stick wax balls in my ears, Odysseus-style. “And I’ve faced Leviathan before. He’s as nasty as they come, and twice as tricky. It’s not a matter of walking up to his glass box and asking for answers. That’s not how he works.”

  “Does it matter? You have no answers, but Leviathan does have answers. You don’t want me speaking to him, but he’s the only one who knows the truth. Catch-22 doesn’t even cover it!” I looked at anything and everything other than my mom, from the sea glass paperweights she kept on her desk—a gift from the Atlanteans, in vivid shades of blue and green—to the pieces I’d painted that adorned her walls. Abstract splashes of color and light with flavors of Kandinsky, poured from my mind into my paintbrush and onto canvas. They’d made sense when I’d painted them. Now, not so much.

  “It’s for your safety, Persie.” The party line, stuck on repeat.

  “I’m eighteen in less than a week, Mom. I’ll legally be an adult. If that’s not the point when you stop babying me, then when will it be?” Desperation crept into my tone, constricting my throat. “How long are you going to stuff me in bubble-wrap?”

  My mom froze. “
I’m not! I’m helping you, even if you don’t see it now.”

  I dug my thumbs hard against the denim belt loops. “But wouldn’t it be better if we got ahead of anything Leviathan might have planned?” After all, knowledge provided the best form of defense. Know your enemy, and that sort of thing. Although, I didn’t even know why Leviathan was the enemy, only that he was dangerous. More than that, I longed to be able to protect myself, instead of feeling as though my mom had to do all that for me. How could I ever be independent, living my own life, if we carried on like this? I’d be in perpetual child limbo.

  “It’s all taken care of. You just have to stay away. That’s all I ask. That’s all I’ve ever asked.” Her eyes hardened—my eyes. The color of the sea on a summer day. My gift from her, like the dark curls from my dad.

  I stood my ground. “What do you mean, it’s ‘taken care of?’ Since when?”

  “Since the moment I found out you were coming into our lives, I’ve been putting defenses in place. He’s not going to get you. I won’t let him.” She peered down into her coffee. I wondered what she saw in there. Enough hope to convince herself it was true?

  “He’s broken through before, though, right?” I knew all about his eerie message to her by the SDC’s pool, when she first found out about me.

  “Yes, but almost two decades is plenty of time to shore up the defenses. Melody and I never stopped working on solutions.” Her body language gave more away than she thought. An Empath should’ve been better at hiding her emotions, but doubt and guilt radiated from her in waves. And she wasn’t finding any answers in that mug. Ironically, it was a chipped, ancient mug with “#1 Mom” half-scratched off the ceramic. A Mother’s Day gift from about a million years ago.