by Helen Harper
‘I’m not afraid of fucking heights, alright?’
At the vehemence in her tone, the halo of snakes surrounding Medusa’s head rose up as if one. Several began to spit, until she reached and stroked the back of their heads gently with her taloned fingers. ‘There, darlings,’ she murmured, ‘settle down now.’
‘How come no-one except me can see those things?’
‘They could see them if they wanted to. They just choose the alternative.’ She laughed, although the sound was more bitter than joyous. ‘They don’t want to know that there really are monsters.’
Yuri pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight, hoping the shiver that traced its way down her spine wasn’t obvious. She’d spent the last eight years trying to forget that monsters existed. She’d known she was only kidding herself but there had been moments when she’d allowed herself to imagine a different world, one where there wasn’t any need to be permanently afraid. She guessed that those feeble attempts had been more foolish than those of anyone else who couldn’t see Medusa for what she really was. At least they had an excuse for avoiding seeing the truth of the world; Yuri certainly couldn’t lay claim to the same.
‘So you’re a monster?’ Unsure of the answer, she avoided looking at Medusa.
The woman, however, wasn’t offended. ‘I suppose I am.’ She absentmindedly rubbed the head of one of her snakes. Its eyes half closed as if in ecstasy. ‘One should be wary of the gods, Yuri. You never know what they might decide to do next.’
‘Poseidon helped me!’
She snorted. ‘Only because it suited him in that moment. If you’d caught him at a different time, you would be singing a different tale.’ Her lips pursed. ‘If you’d be singing at all, that is.’
‘They sang,’ Yuri said. ‘The sirens. They sang.’
‘Yes,’ she responded mildly, ‘they do that.’ She glanced over at the girl staring out at the blue expanse of ocean and a sudden look of comprehension came across her face. ‘The sea,’ Medusa muttered, as much to herself as to Yuri, echoing the words she’d said when they first met. This time, however, her tone of voice was more thoughtful and musing.
Yuri scowled and half turned in her direction. ‘What about it?’
A ghost of a smile flickered across her face. ‘Nothing. So tell me your story, Yuri. Why are you here in this corner of Devon?’
‘It wasn’t my choice. My mother wanted to come.’
‘You don’t get on with her.’ It wasn’t a question.
Yuri shrugged. ‘She doesn’t care.’
‘I doubt that’s true.’
‘You don’t know anything about it.’ There was just the faintest hint of rancor to her voice.
On the beach below, a lone figure carrying a surfboard strode out across the sand and began zipping up a wetsuit. They watched him as he watched the waves. The trail of indentations his feet had made in the soft sand were visible behind him.
‘What about you?’ Yuri asked suddenly. ‘What are you doing here?’
Medusa shrugged. ‘I like the peace and quiet. This corner of the world is far removed from anywhere the gods are likely to frequent.’
‘Aren’t you…?’
‘What?’
Yuri swallowed. ‘Aren’t you a god?’
She laughed. ‘No. I most definitely am not.’
‘Then how come you look like that?’ Her voice was frank.
‘You’re not the only one to get on their wrong side.’
‘What happened?’
‘You are far too curious for your own good.’
The surfer picked up his board, cradling it under his arm while he strode decisively to the shore line. Flecks of white surf washed around his ankles as he padded into the sea.
‘Let’s just say,’ Medusa said suddenly, ‘I was far too trusting for my own good.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Just that. Don’t go looking for pat answers, Yuri. You won’t find them.’
‘Are you alone?’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d even had a chance to think about them.
Medusa reached out and traced a taloned finger down her arm. The action might have been deemed as predatory but, oddly, it was more comforting than anything else.
‘I have some family who still talk to me. In fact, I have a niece of sorts who’s round about your age. Perhaps you can be friends.’
Yuri sighed inwardly. What was it about adults who thought that you could become instant friends with someone based on nothing more than a shared age group? It didn’t work like that when you were an adult so why would it work like that when you were a child?
‘I don’t need any friends. I’m not lonely,’ she blurted out.
Medusa smiled. ‘Of course you’re not.’
The surfer, by now deep into the waves, clambered to his feet on his board as a cresting wall of water approached. Yuri shivered involuntarily but he deftly maneuvered himself against it, skimming over the top of the water as if he were a master of the ocean.
‘He should be careful. The currents are strong today.’ Medusa’s eyes took on an odd gleam.
Yuri looked at her. ‘How do I find him?’
‘Who?’
‘Poseidon. How do I find Poseidon?’
Her face shuttered. ‘You don’t want to do that.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘And what will you do when you find him?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Fall at his feet and thank him for sparing your life? Attack him for not saving your father?’
‘That’s between me and him.’
Medusa leaned in. ‘You would do well to leave him alone. Get on with your life and forget you were ever touched by those who dwell at Olympus.’
‘I might have known,’ Yuri muttered.
‘Mmm?’
‘You’re just like all the others. You won’t help me even if you do believe me.’
‘You’re looking for answers that don’t exist. Give it up.’
Yuri uncurled herself and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘As you wish.’ Medusa jerked her head out to sea, the writhing snakes rising up as if one and blinking out in the direction of the surf. ‘Before you do, however, you should take note of what’s happening in front of you. Someone’s in trouble.’
Yuri frowned and turned. The surfer was still far out in the waves but he was no longer gliding on their surface. Instead, only his head was visible. Water washed over him, momentarily hiding him from view. His arms flailed upwards, two distant limbs clutching at the air.
‘Shit. Can you…’ She glanced back at the bench but Medusa had disappeared. Yuri’s eyes widened and she spun around. ‘Medusa?’ Her words were whipped away in the wind. ‘Medusa!’ She looked back down towards the sea where the waves continued to crash mercilessly over the hapless surfer’s head. ‘Shit.’
Yuri ran round to where a tiny scuffed path led down towards the beach. Shale and clumps of dirt coughed up around her ankles as she scrambled downwards, gripping onto the rickety metal railing placed there long ago. About halfway down she lost her footing and skidded downwards on her arse for a few feet before she managed to pick herself back up again. Then she was on flat ground, her toes sinking into the sand as she sprinted towards the water’s edge.
Her eyes darted left and right. There was a distant figure with a bounding dog several hundred meters away but, whoever it was, they were too far away to be of any use. She stared helplessly out at the surfer. His head emerged for a split second and there was an inarticulate cry, then he disappeared beneath the waves again.
‘Shit,’ she cursed again, then bent down and yanked off first one shoe then another. Bile rose in her throat as the water soaked into her socks and the heavy denim around her ankles. Still cursing, she undid the button of her jeans and wriggled out of them. Then she ran into the water.
It was colder than she’d expected. Salt water sprayed up around her as she pelted in the direction of the surfer. She could only mak
e out flashes of his body as it tumbled over and over in the surf. As soon as the water reached above her knees she dove forwards and tried to swim, her bare legs scuffing against the rough sea floor, but her efforts were weak and it wasn’t long before she was on her feet again, attempting to ignore the pull of the current so that she could reach the surfer in time. He seemed an impossible distance away. When she could no longer run against the water, she lunged forward again, her arms stretching forward in the way she’d seen others do. Muscle memory kicked in from long forgotten swimming lessons and her legs kicked hard while her arms reached out in front, cutting through the stinging waves. From nowhere, a wash of water crashed over her head and she swallowed what felt like several mouthfuls. Then she was gasping for air, her fingers grappling through the waves as if seeking purchase. Her heart was thumping painfully against her ribcage and all she could hear was pumping blood roaring in her ears.
Numb with cold, and struggling to breathe, Yuri kicked again and reached out. Something brushed past her fingertips and she almost yelled in exultation. An arm came from nowhere, smacking her painfully across her face. She cursed again and tried to grab it, pulling backwards as she did so. The surfer’s body twisted against her, resisting her touch. Using her other arm, she curved round his chest and tightened her grip. He was choking and spluttering. Another wave smashed into them, intense in its ferocity. The surfer’s body jerked while Yuri dimly clutched his broad chest and began to try to pull him back in to shore. Something thwacked against the back of her head and she felt herself going under. Then her head emerged above the waves again and she kicked for all her might, her grip tight around his body. Except his legs kept getting her way and, for every kick against the current, it felt as if the pair of them were being pulled further and further out.
Yuri gritted her teeth. Cold was seeping into her extremities and the thin top she was wearing felt heavy and constricting. She clutched the surfer to her, squeezed her eyes shut and pulled, using her one free arm to cut through the water and take them back in the direction of the safety of shore. The surfer continued to struggle against her but his movements were growing feebler.
‘Goddamn you!’ She screamed in his ear, before another wave swallowed away her words. ‘I’m trying to help!’
Something must have registered in his brain because his body abruptly stilled then she felt his legs kick as if helping her bring him in. Yuri kicked too, her lungs beginning to burn against the onslaught of the waves and the lack of regular air. The thought passed across her mind that this was it. This was how it was going to end. After everything the sea was going to take her away anyway. The current was too strong and, even with the vague help of the surfer, his body was too clumsy and too large for her slight frame to manage. A calmness descended across her and she felt herself start to relax. Her legs dropped and her grip on the surfer loosened. Then, without warning, she felt the ocean floor under her feet and stupidly realised she was close enough to shore to be able to stand.
Clutching his back to her chest, she heaved him backwards. She could barely see with the salt stinging her eyes, but she could feel the water becoming shallower and shallower around her as she hauled him in. It reached her chest, then her midriff, then her waist. And then she was half hugging, half dragging him onto the wet sand where she flipped him onto his back and stared into his slack pale face. Somehow she had known who it was even before she really recognised his features.
‘Ozzy!’ she thumped his chest. He didn’t respond. ‘Ozzy!’
She pulled him a little further up the beach and knelt down by his chest and head, then tilting his head back with her fingertips, she took a deep breath and covered his mouth with hers, breathing out to fill his lungs. Nothing happened. Was she supposed to pump his chest now or breathe again? Yuri had no idea. She took another breath into her own burning chest and tried the kiss of life again first, before switching her attention to his wetsuit covered torso. Using the base of her hands, and with no clue as to whether she was doing more harm than good, she pressed sharply down five times. Her wet straggly hair was getting in the way so she flipped it over her shoulder, annoyed, and moved back to his mouth. His skin was cold and was she was starting to think that she was too late and too inept. She breathed in again, pinching his nose so she could breathe into his mouth once more, and then he was coughing and spluttering, water gurgling up. He turned on his side and Yuri rocked back on her heels in relief. She closed her eyes briefly, sending up a small prayer to whoever might be listening, while he sat up, coughing still further, and gave her a weak smile.
‘Hey,’ Ozzy said. ‘I might need that again.’ His voice was croaky, but discernible.
She blinked at him in worry. ‘What? What do you need?’
He choked and spat out water, his long spiky eyelashes fluttering rapidly. ‘That kiss. I might need that kiss again.’
CHAPTER SIX
LONDON, 2014
Yuri was finding it increasingly difficult to look Oz in the eye. She fixed her gaze instead on a loose strand of his hair falling artlessly across his forehead. She kept telling herself that the reason he looked so good was because he had a veritable army of stylists to cater to his every whim and desire. It didn’t stop her from feeling tired, grubby and very, very small in his presence, however. His nut-brown, blemish-free skin told of hours spent worshipping the sun and his hair, once sandy-coloured and streaked with gold, now shimmered, even under the harsh lighting of the conference room. Had his eyes always been that vivid shade of green?
‘Our readers will be interested to know what beauty regime you undergo,’ she found herself saying.
He raised an amused eyebrow in her direction. ‘Beauty regime?’
Don’t you dare blush, she told herself firmly. ‘Doesn’t every girl want a man as impeccably turned out as you?’
Oz’s eyes danced. ‘You say that as if you think looking good is a sin.’ He leaned across the table. ‘But you do think I look good, right?’
Yuri swallowed. The gall of the man. Clearly, spending his time preening amongst legions of fans had swelled his head to gargantuan proportions. ‘Well,’ she responded coolly, ‘we do live in a society where looks are promoted above talent.’
Alicia choked. ‘I’m sure we can allow a question of that nature.’ She sounded like a strangled cat. Oz, irritatingly, just looked amused.
Making a meaningless notation in the notepad open in front of her, Yuri nodded. She knew she was treading in dangerous waters, but she seemed unable to stop herself. ‘And on the question of talent,’ she continued, ‘something along the lines of how you deal with your detractors will be of interest. You know, those people who say you’ve sold out your music to make as much money as possible?’
The corners of his mouth curved up. ‘Oh, money doesn’t interest me.’
‘Then what does?’
‘I like having women faint at my feet.’
Yuri was starting to get the distinct impression that he was laughing at her.
‘We’ve already decided that your love life is off the table,’ Alicia interjected, obviously starting to feel that proceedings were getting away from her.
Oz didn’t look at her. ‘I have no objections to answering questions about my romantic entanglements.’
‘Oz…’
‘Excellent,’ Yuri butted in, before he could change his mind. At least she could go back to Yell and make it seem as if she’d done something right.
‘However,’ Oz added, holding up one finger in the air, ‘there is one caveat attached to that.’ His gaze seemed fixed upon her with searing intensity.
‘Yes?’ she squeaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. ‘What’s that?’
‘The band is playing at a local club tomorrow night. As you have doubts as to my talent, then perhaps you should come along to see for yourself.’
‘I’m busy,’ she lied.
Oz folded his arms across his chest. She tried not to notice the way his t-shirt fabric str
ained across his muscles as he did so. ‘That’s the price you pay for asking any question you want.’
‘It’s not as if you’ve had any new songs out for a while,’ Yuri said, aware she was being rude but desperately seeking a reason to refuse the invitation.
Oz’s eyes gleamed. ‘It’s funny you should mention that. But actually, there is a new song. I’ve just written it. It would be great to have your feedback on it. If you want the interview, you need to come to the gig.’
Alicia stood up, her palms slamming down against the table top and making the glasses rattle as she did so. ‘I really don’t think that’s necess…’
‘Done.’ Yuri brought her eyes up and managed to hold Oz’s gaze.
He smiled. ‘I’ll have my people send the details over to Yell by this afternoon.’
She sniffed. ‘My people will be thrilled.’
Oz licked his lips. ‘Who are your people?’
Her mind a complete blank, Yuri reached out and took a sip of water. ‘I work at one of the leading magazines in the country,’ she answered finally, regrouping, ‘there are many people.’
Alicia’s hands began to flutter in the air. ‘If we’re done here, Ms. Tateno,’ she trilled out, ‘I’ll see you to the door. The actual interview will take place on Thursday afternoon. You’ll have forty-five minutes to ask your questions after the photo shoot is completed.’
‘That will be fine,’ Yuri murmured, realising she was finally being dismissed - and grateful for it. It was time she got the hell out of this place before she said something she really regretted. She pulled herself to her feet, snapping her notebook shut and picking up her belongings. Despite the water, her tongue felt unpleasantly furry and her stomach was continuing to twist with nausea.
Oz also got to his feet. He moved smoothly round the table until he was standing right in front of her. Flustered, Yuri stuck out her hand as if to shake his, but he ignored it and instead inclined his head, giving her a light brush of his lips on her cheek. She caught a whiff of his aftershave – deep and earthy – and was instantly transported back in time while her knees felt suddenly weak and unable to hold her own weight. Then he abruptly pulled away and gave her a perfunctory smile. Somehow Yuri managed to smile back and remain upright while he moved past her and back out of the room. As soon as he’d gone, her shoulders sagged in abject relief.