Deep Water

by Nicola Cameron

  Amphitrite gave her a pained look, and Heather stopped babbling. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Er, I’ll just stick it out of sight, then.”

  “No. It’s all right.” The Nereid reached out, trailing one fingertip over a high cheekbone, a beautifully full lip, a wide, strong brow. “It doesn’t really look like her, of course,” Amphitrite said absently. “But then again, that’s hardly surprising. Most people never look beyond the snakes.”

  Heather noticed her sister avoided the sinuous shapes that curled around the bust’s head. With a sound she hoped was supportive and not as grunty as she suspected it really was, she hefted the bust. “Be a dear and put the kettle on,” she said, trundling off towards the back of the store.

  Once the bust had been safely stored with the Halloween decor, she came back and flicked the door’s OPEN sign to CLOSED, then headed to the tiny office tucked in the building’s front corner. Her curly red hair and green glasses disappeared, replaced by her true form as the Nereid Hyacinth.

  Inside the office she saw her electric kettle, a teapot, a bottle of milk, two mugs carrying the shop’s logo, and a plate of snickerdoodles already out on her desk, and her sister sitting on the edge of the visitor’s chair. “You really do need tea, don’t you?”

  “I suppose I do,” Amphitrite said as the kettle clicked off, wisps of steam rising from its spout. “Or wine, if you have it.”

  Hyacinth thought about the bottle of Merlot upstairs in her apartment, and then eyed the clock over the office door. Even for divine beings, 10 AM was a bit early to start drinking. “Not at the moment, sorry,” she lied. “Let me just mash this up and we’ll have a nice talk, yes?”

  She busied herself with that, handing her sister a cup of tea and a cookie. “So, what’s the Earthshaker done now?”

  “Well … nothing,” Amphitrite said slowly. “Not exactly, anyway. I was at the cove this morning for a therapy session with Nick, Aidan, and Liam.”

  Once again Hyacinth was impressed by the breadth of mortal skills her sister had picked up over the millennia. “Nice to see you using your psychology degree again,” she said over the rim of her cup.

  The other Nereid shrugged. “Afterwards I went over to the boys’ cottage to ask Aphros about a recipe. Poseidon was there with Bythos and Ian. I assume they were having some sort of war council.”

  “Did Poseidon say anything to you?”

  “He offered to step out so that I could speak with Bythos.”

  “And?”

  “That was it.”

  Hyacinth weighed her next words. “Did you want him to say anything else?”

  Amphitrite slumped in her chair. “I suppose it’s childish of me to want him to grovel every time I see him.”

  “A bit, yes.”

  She nodded gloomily. “We’ve done so well, avoiding each other. And now we wind up meeting twice in six weeks. I knew it was possible if I agreed to be Nick’s therapist, but there’s a difference between knowing something intellectually and actually having it happen to you.”

  “Perhaps the two of you could set up some sort of schedule so that you don’t have to run into each other?” Hyacinth suggested.

  Amphitrite’s brows went up. “Custody of Olympic Cove? That’s a thought. Although I can’t see him holding to it.”

  Hyacinth made a muffled noise of agreement into her tea. She’d been Poseidon’s sister-in-law long enough to know that he would ignore an agreement if it suited him. “You’re sure he didn’t say anything else to you?”

  “No. Just stood there like a self-important martinet and looked constipated. Although I do think he tried to smile once. I’m surprised his cheeks didn’t crack.”

  There was nothing useful Hyacinth could say to that. “Well, why don’t you arrange to meet with Nick, Aidan, and Liam somewhere else? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind coming to your condo for sessions,” she suggested.

  The other Nereid shook her head. “I don’t feel comfortable bringing the mers into a human settlement. Things are tense enough between them and their grotto as it is. I don’t wish to add more stress if I don’t have to.” She gave her sister a wry look. “I’ll just have to bite the bullet and accept that I may have to talk to Poseidon now and then. It won’t kill me, after all.”

  “Yes, one of the benefits about being an immortal, I suppose,” Hyacinth said, taking a quick nibble of her cookie. “Of course, it might not be a bad idea, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Talking to Poseidon. I think the mortals call it ‘getting closure’.”

  The temperature in the small office dropped. “I don’t see how I could achieve closure with Poseidon,” Amphitrite said. “Unless he did something really spectacular, such as immolate himself in a volcano.”

  Hyacinth winced. “Ammie, you know I’m on your side with this. What he did was horrible. But that was also thousands of years ago. At some point, you have to let it go, for your own sake.” She gentled her voice. “Tell me truly—do you even remember what she looked like?”

  The other Nereid’s face clouded over. “I will always remember how she looked,” Amphitrite said softly. “She had large, light brown eyes, like those of an owl. Her nose was elegant, but with the tiniest snubbing at the tip. When she laughed, the entire room seemed to light up. And even though she was small she always stood up straight, modest and attentive, the perfect handmaiden.”

  Hyacinth’s heart ached at the ancient grief in her sister’s eyes. “Forgive me, Ammie. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past.”

  “You didn’t, Hy. That’s the problem. I carry it with me always. It’s my penance for failing her the way I did.” Amphitrite pressed her lips together, Hyacinth assumed to mask their trembling. “And that is why I cannot achieve closure with Poseidon. If I forgive him for what he did, it feels like I’m betraying her.”

  “Even though you miss him?” Hyacinth regretted the words the moment they slipped out.

  But Amphitrite simply nodded. “Even though I miss him. He’ll always have part of my heart, the same as she does. But every time I look at him, I see her in Athena’s temple giving me a look of loathing that still tears at my soul. And it makes me so angry, both at him and myself.” She blinked once, hard. “And I’m so tired of being angry. But there’s no way either of us can fix this. It’s best if we just stay away from each other.”

  Hyacinth had to wonder if that was true. But she couldn’t think of a way around her sister’s marital conundrum and the gaping hole at its core. All she could do was offer another cookie and pray to the Fates to ease the other Nereid’s heart.

  ****

  Poseidon guided the powerful sea horses through the cove opening, landing next to the coral field. After making sure that they had sufficient grazing, he put away his trident and headed into the shallows.

  The deep purple tint of the water indicated that it was evening, but with an unaware mortal now living on the cove he couldn’t simply emerge from the surf like he used to. It was possible to open a portal directly into the cottage, of course, but doing that while under water tended to bring a certain quantity of liquid along.

  Invisibility it is. Adjusting the air molecules around his body to refract light and render him invisible, he stepped out of the water and headed to his sons’ cottage.

  The porch door was open, as was the back door to the cottage proper. The building itself, however, was empty. Annoyed, Poseidon stood in the kitchen and wondered what he was supposed to do now.

  “Father?”

  He turned. Aphros stood in the back doorway, wearing his preferred mortal clothing of a garishly patterned tropical shirt and cargo shorts. “I didn’t know you were coming. By told you about the cookout, then?”

  Poseidon frowned. “Cookout?”

  “Yes, at Nick’s cottage. We’re breaking in his new grill.” Aphros crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out a large platter piled with steaks and chicken breasts. “Just so you know, he also invited our new neighbor. Seems nice enough f
or a mortal—apparently he’s a marine biologist. Would you like to join us?”

  Having some food wouldn’t go amiss, Poseidon decided. And afterward he could float the idea of a rapprochement with Amphitrite and see what his sons thought of it. “I think I shall,” he announced. With a thought, his chiton changed into a white polo shirt and cream slacks. “I assume I’m dressed correctly for the occasion?”

  Aphros laughed. “That’s a little formal for a beach cookout, but it’ll do.” He held out the tray of meat. “Here, could you take this? I’ll carry the barbecue sauce and coleslaw.”

  Repressing an urge to snap his fingers and summon a daimon from Olympus, Poseidon gingerly took the tray and followed his now-laden son over to the next cottage. Similar in layout to Ian’s home, it boasted pale yellow stucco walls and a large deck that overlooked the water. Clouds of midges attracted by the outside lights hovered over the deck, kept at bay by the smoke rising from a huge silver grill. A group of men had gathered around the device, chatting and drinking beer.

  They all looked up at Aphros and Poseidon’s approach. Ian and Bythos seemed surprised, while Nick appeared to be genuinely pleased. The mers Aidan and Liam, however, had gone pale, with Liam starting to bow as usual.

  Not in front of the mortal, Poseidon sent. Liam coughed and straightened, pretending to rub his chest.

  “Hail the conquering heroes! We bring offerings to be burnt,” Aphros announced, holding up the bowls in his hands. “Plus condiments.”

  “Great. I’m starving.” A man stood off to one side with a half-filled beer bottle in one hand, lifting it in salute. Poseidon estimated the mortal’s age as late forties, judging by the handsome but somewhat lined face and cropped salt and pepper hair. He wore a pair of khaki shorts with a baggy black t-shirt emblazoned with a white skull and a crossed trident and crook, bearing the words SEA SHEPHERDS.

  Poseidon approved of the marine wildlife conservation group and had occasionally lent a surreptitious hand on some of their missions. The mortal instantly rose a few notches in his opinion. “In that case, I hope you enjoy beef and chicken,” he said, hoisting the platter.

  Nick’s guest chuckled. “Anything’s got to be better than airplane food,” he said in a brisk English accent.

  “Oh, I think we can do better than that,” Aphros said, taking the platter from Poseidon and forking meat onto the smoking grill. “Father, this is Griffin Moore. He’s with the National Oceanography Centre in England.”

  “As you might have guessed from the voice,” Griffin said.

  “And Griff, this is my father—” Aphros broke off, face blanking.

  Poseidon recognized the problem. “Dunn Seaton,” he said, using one of his favorite mortal aliases. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Moore.”

  “Likewise.” Griffin stuck out a hand. Poseidon masked his divine aura, not wanting to overwhelm the mortal with a god’s touch, then took the proffered hand.

  The inside of his head exploded. Light, sound, touch, and memory surged together as a torrent of emotions overwhelmed him—love, need, pain, regret, anguish, anger.

  Betrayal. You betrayed me. Both of you.

  Eyes wide in shock, Griffin yanked his hand out of Poseidon’s. The onslaught disappeared as if a switch had been thrown.

  “Shit,” the mortal muttered, shaking his hand as if he’d just touched a live wire. “What the hell was that?”

  Poseidon clenched his own hand, still reeling from the overload of emotion. “Static electricity,” he managed to say, mouth dry. “Must’ve built up a charge somewhere. Sorry.”

  “Yeah.” Griffin flexed his fingers. “Static electricity.” But he didn’t sound convinced.

  With Aphros in charge of cooking and the others still gathered around the grill, Poseidon took the opportunity to claim a deck chair overlooking the cove. To his dismay Griffin followed him, sitting down heavily in a nearby chair.

  Wary, Poseidon extended his godsense, trying to confirm his suspicions. The mortal had recently lost a fair amount of weight, judging by the way his clothes hung on him. Even worse was his aura, the bioelectrical field surrounding every living creature. Whereas most human auras were a swirl of colors with one dominant tone, Griffin’s aura was shot with thick streaks of grey and black, indicating a serious illness.

  But the general pattern of the aura was one Poseidon most definitely recognized. I can’t believe they did this. The Fates’ comment about the wheel turning now made perfect sense.

  Ill or not, Griffin’s dark eyes were clear and full of intelligence and good humor. “Remind me not to stand next to you in a thunderstorm,” he quipped.

  As if Zeus would dare. Poseidon forced a smile. “I think you’re safe. I do apologize for jolting you like that, though.”

  Griffin grinned. “I’d had worse. To be honest, you’re the one who looks a little peaky.”

  Poseidon hunted for a safe lie. “I haven’t eaten since this morning, and I received some unexpected news earlier.”

  Griffin’s expression cleared, turning sympathetic. “You’re in luck, then.”

  Poseidon looked up and saw Aphros bearing two loaded plates. “Here, Father,” the demigod said, handing over a plate and a fork. “Griffin, do you want this one?”

  The mortal gave the food a longing look, but shook his head. “Not right now, thanks.”

  Poseidon frowned. He’s lying. He hasn’t eaten since this morning.

  I know, Father. Let him be. He can eat later if he chooses. “Suit yourself,” Aphros said out loud, leaning against the deck railing as he shoveled a forkful of chicken into his mouth. What’s wrong with you, though? You look as though you’d seen one of the Titans.

  Poseidon took a bite of what turned out to be potato salad. No, not a Titan, thank Gaia.

  Then what? He could sense his son’s attention on the mortal. Is he a threat of some sort? By and I can remove him—

  Leave him!

  Aphros winced at the order. All right. But what’s going on?

  The food, delicious as it was, turned to ashes in Poseidon’s mouth. He swallowed with difficulty. I didn’t realize it until I touched his hand, but I knew him. A long time ago.

  His son stiffened a bit at that. I see. Was he one of your lovers?

  No. Poseidon stopped, wondering how much honesty he owed Aphros. At least, not in this form. When I knew him, he was a young woman. The familiar wash of grief and regret surged through him again. One I betrayed, most cruelly.

  Aphros stopped eating and stared at him. Father, he isn’t—he can’t be—

  He is. Poseidon sighed. Your mortal neighbor is Medusa, reborn.

  Chapter Two

  Bythos sat back in shock. “Father, are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Poseidon said stiffly. He’d gotten through the rest of the cookout with a modicum of grace, managing to chat with Nick and his mers and laughing at one of Griffin’s stories about a group of American researchers getting seasick after enjoying a pub crawl and an introduction to British beer. He’d even managed to eat one of Aphros’s perfectly cooked steaks, seared on the outside and red and juicy at the center.

  But he’d been very careful not to touch Griffin, and had escaped to the cottage as soon as it was polite to leave. His sons and Ian had joined him soon afterwards, and now they were seated around the old table in the cottage kitchen.

  Both Ian and Aphros seemed willing to accept that their neighbor was the reincarnation of a figure from ancient legend. Poseidon’s grey-eyed son, however, wasn’t convinced. “It’s been over seven millennia,” he pointed out. “After all that time, how can you be sure that man carries Medusa’s soul?”

  Poseidon bit back the question of whether Bythos would recognize Ian’s soul after seven thousand years. “I would know the soul of Medusa anywhere, at any time. And I know it resides in Griffin Moore.”

  A reluctant Bythos finally nodded. “So what are we going to do about it?”

  That was an excellent question. “At the moment,
I’m not sure,” Poseidon said. “Especially since the timing of this strikes me as extremely suspect.”

  Ian, who had been watching the byplay between father and sons, raised a hand. “You don’t think the Fates are working with Thetis, do you?”

  Three red heads shook in unison. “The Fates are a power unto themselves—not even Gaia herself could suborn them,” Poseidon said. “But it does seem suspicious that they chose to reweave Medusa’s soul into life at the exact moment where it would be the most distracting to me.”

  The twins exchanged a glance. “What about Mother?” Aphros said slowly. “Are you going to tell her?”

  Poseidon hesitated. Not for the first time, he wondered if keeping the truth about Medusa from his sons had been the best plan of action. All of their lives they had considered the woman who would become the monstrous Gorgon to be the “other woman,” the one who had sundered their parents’ marriage. Her supposed punishment by Athena and eventual death at the hand of Perseus had done nothing to ease their distaste for her.

  He decided to tread lightly. “I will need to talk to your mother at some point about this, yes. But for the moment I would ask that you—all three of you,” he looked at Ian, “respect my wishes and not mention this to Amphitrite.”

  Bythos eyed him warily. “All right. But know this, Father. If you do anything to hurt Mother again, any family feeling between us will be destroyed.”

  Poseidon bit back his initial response. Bythos had always been close to Amphitrite, and the dissolution of his parents’ marriage had driven the demigod to her side. “Hurting your mother is the last thing I wish to do,” he said. “But I need to speak with the Fates and get to the root of this before I talk to Amphitrite. Will you grant me the time to do that?”

  Another glance between the twins, and then Bythos nodded.