Deep Water (7 page)

****

It was one of the better days in Griffin’s
recent memory. The weather was perfect for sailing, and his muscles had that
happy ache that came after a really good workout on the lines. And Dunn,
miracle of miracles, had turned out to be a fine sailor.

Not to mention decent company. After that
first uncomfortable exchange about wives, they started trading anecdotes like
they’d known each other for years. It was with a real sense of regret that
Griffin had to admit he was getting tired, even with Dunn taking turns at the
tiller.

Dunn took over the piloting duties,
letting Griffin relax in the bow. Before he knew it they were gliding into the
cove’s entrance. Dunn started the recalcitrant engine without a problem and
handed the tiller over to Griffin while he took down the sails.

Tying up the boat was blessedly smooth and
quick. “This was fun,” Griffin said, grabbing the cooler and climbing onto the
pier. “If you’re around any time in the next two weeks, we should do it again.”

“I’ll be popping in and out as duties
permit, but I believe I can set aside some sailing time,” Dunn said, smiling.
“Pick a day and I’ll arrange it.”

“Great. I—”

Actinic lightning sizzled across his vision,
whiting out Dunn, the beach, everything. He smelled ozone and tasted metal,
sharp and nauseating.

And then there was nothing.

****

Shocked, Poseidon watched as the laughing
man he’d just spent the morning with went rigid, then collapsed onto the pier.
He lunged forward, grabbing Griffin before the mortal could tumble into the
water.

Muscles twitched hard under his hands as
Griffin began to shudder, limbs twitching awkwardly. His eyes rolled up,
showing a sliver of white.

Poseidon scooped the man into his arms and
scanned the cottages.
Thank Gaia he’s
home.
He opened a portal directly to Nick’s cottage, stepping through to a
tiled living area.

“Nicholas!” he bellowed. “I need help!”

There was a clatter in the kitchen before Nick
ran into the room, a small dog at his heels. Both of them skidded to a halt as they
saw Poseidon and his cargo. “What happened?” Nick asked.

“We were out sailing and he collapsed,”
Poseidon said quickly, cradling the twitching man. “Help him!”

Nick switched over into doctor mode. “Okay,
lay him out on the floor, carefully,” he ordered. “Keep your hands under his
head. Don’t let him bang it on the floor.”

Poseidon did as instructed, dropping to
his knees without a flinch and laying Griffin out on the cool tile. He slid
both hands under his mortal’s skull, cradling it as Nick checked his pulse.

Just then Griffin relaxed, arms dropping
to the tiles in a boneless flop as the seizure ended. There was a sharp smell,
and Poseidon saw a dark stain bloom across the front of the man’s shorts.

Nick caught the god’s glance. “People can
lose bladder control during a seizure. It’s no big deal,” he said.

“All right.” Unsure of what else to do,
Poseidon remained in a crouch, still cradling Griffin’s head as Nick examined
him. “Does he need any medication? I’ll fetch whatever is required.”

The doctor sat back on his heels, shaking
his head. “If he was still seizing I’d have you go get some
Keppra
,
but right now we just have to wait until he wakes up.” He grabbed a cushion
from the sofa and offered it to Poseidon. “Here, put that under his head so you
can sit back.”

“No,” Poseidon said fiercely.

Nick’s expression turned wary. “Some
patients are really freaked out by people hovering over them as they wake up
from a seizure,” he said carefully. “Also, I may need you to help me get him
up.”

“Oh.” That made sense. Poseidon accepted
the cushion and slid it under Griffin’s head, settling back to wait. The dog
trotted to his side and sat there, quiet but watchful.

After a few minutes Griffin’s eyelids
fluttered, opening slowly and blearily. “
Wha
’
happened?” he mumbled.

“You had a seizure,” Nick said calmly.
“I’m a doctor. Have you had seizures before?”

Griffin’s brown eyes swiveled, focusing on
Poseidon. To the sea god’s dismay they filled with shame and anger. “Yeah. I
thought—” Griffin grimaced, looking back at Nick. “Where am I?”

“My living room,” the doctor said. “I’m
Nick—I hosted the cookout last night.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Griffin glanced back
at Poseidon. “Shit. I’m sorry, mate.”

Poseidon was mystified at the apology. “You
have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Yeah, I do. Must’ve scared the shit out
of you.” Griffin struggled to get up and Poseidon leaned in to help, sliding an
arm under the mortal’s back and easing him into a sitting position. “I didn’t
think that was going to happen. I—” He stopped, jaw clenching briefly.

“Feel like you’re going to throw up?” Nick
said.

Griffin shook his head, then frowned,
looking down at his lap. He went crimson and clasped his hands over the stain.
“Shit.” His voice was raw with humiliation. “I’m sorry—”

Nick waved it off. “It’s tile. Easy
cleanup, don’t worry about it,” he said. “Do you want to sit there for a bit,
or do you want to try getting up?”

Griffin’s face was still red. “I want to
get up.”

“Okay. Dunn?”

“Oh. Yes.” Scrambling to get his feet
under him, Poseidon helped Griffin stand up. He didn’t want to let go, but the
man almost tore out of his grasp.

“I can do it,” Griffin growled. “Where’s
the loo?”

“This way.” Nick stayed off to one side,
ready to grab his patient if he started heading south again. Helpless, Poseidon
followed with the dog (Norma, he remembered belatedly) in tow.

Once the bathroom door closed in their
faces, Poseidon pulled the doctor to one side. “Do you know what’s wrong with
him?” he asked.

Nick looked uncertain. “It could be a lot
of things. I can check him with the Rod if you want.”

“Do it.”

Nodding, he ducked into his bedroom and
came back with what looked like a novelty pen with a tiny golden snake wound
around it. He held it up and aimed at the door, eyes going distant with
concentration.

After far too brief a time, Nick lowered
the miniaturized Rod of Asclepius and sighed. “Shit. I was afraid of that. It’s
cancer.”

At first the word didn’t register with
Poseidon as something that deserved such a grave response. It was the name of an
astrological water sign, the Latin word for crab.

And then he remembered the human
meaning—cells mutating, running wild and killing off healthy cells, draining
the body of vitality.

“What kind?” he said, his lips feeling
strangely numb.

“Cerebral glioblastoma
multiforme
.
Looks like stage four.”

More nonsensical terms. “What does that
mean?” Poseidon demanded.

Nick gave him a sympathetic look. “It
means
it’s
terminal. He’s going to die.”

—she was never
meant to be with you forever, Lord Poseidon. Medusa was mortal, after all. I
would suggest that you move quickly before her thread ends.

The Fates had warned him. He’d seen it
himself in Griffin’s aura. But he’d thought his
agapetos
’s
ending would be due to
Thetis, or some sort of an accident—something he could ward against, something
he could evade. Not a fatal illness.

And for all his immense control over the
oceans and earthquakes, he had no power to heal.

The sorrow in Nick’s expression and the
gentle tone of his next words somehow made things even worse. “The tumor is far
too deep in the brain for surgery, and from what I could tell Griffin’s already
been through radiation and chemo,” he said. “I don’t think there’s anything I
can do—”

Poseidon watched as if his hands belonged
to someone else, closing around Nick’s collar and pulling him onto his tiptoes.
“He is not going to die,” he said, his voice utterly calm. “I will not allow
it, do you hear me?”

Nick’s face went red as he clutched at Poseidon’s
hands. At their feet Norma let out a high-pitched growl followed by a volley of
barks.

“Lord, please!” Someone grabbed his wrists,
trying to pull him loose.

With an effort, Poseidon made himself let
go. Nick dropped with a thump, staggering back against the bedroom wall.

A tall
mer
still
gripped Poseidon’s wrists. The
mer’s
eyes widened and
he yanked his hands back, but stood his ground. “Forgive me, Lord, but you were
hurting him.”

“
It’s
okay, Li,”
Nick gasped, rubbing his reddened throat. “I’m okay.”

Norma darted in front of both Nick and
Liam, still growling at Poseidon. He sucked in a shuddering breath, fighting
for control.
It’s not his fault.

“My apologies, Nicholas,” he said roughly.
“And to you as well, Liam. How long…” He couldn’t force out the words.

The doctor swallowed, still rubbing his
throat. “Maybe a month, if he’s lucky.”

Poseidon nodded once, just as the sounds
of water splashing in the bathroom stopped. He couldn’t risk having Griffin see
him like this, so out of control. It smacked too much of the past.

“I have to leave. Please see to it that
Griffin gets back to his cottage safely,” he said.

Nick blinked. “But—”

“Thank you, Nicholas.” Poseidon summoned a
portal and stepped through it before he could hear any more.

****

The night sky over the Aegean was the
blackest velvet spread thickly with diamonds. Poseidon sat on the edge of a
cliff overlooking the sea, feet dangling in the warm, clear air. Beneath him,
his home waters spread out in their wine-dark glory, the illumination from the
half moon shedding light on the waves and creating a shimmering white road.

After summoning three bottles of wine from
Bythos’s cellar, the sea god had started drinking, hoping to pass out sometime
before dawn. Two empty wine bottles now sat at his side, and a third
half-filled one was in his hand. He lifted it to his mouth, taking a deep swig.
He didn’t notice the taste, although anything from his son’s wine cellar was
guaranteed to be good. He was far more interested in the wine’s numbing
effects.

Griffin is dying.

It wasn’t working.

He heard a heavy step on the grassy rise
behind him. “Nice view,” a dry voice said.

Poseidon stared out at the sea, taking
another swig. “I thought so,” he said after he swallowed.

There was a soft exhalation, and then a
pair of translucently glowing horse’s legs came into view. “Still, there are
better places to drink,” the centaur Chiron said. “Places with cute barmaids,
for example.”

“I’m not in the mood for company.”

“Yeah, I can tell. Unfortunately for you,
Hades suggested I come find you. I thought he was blowing things out of
proportion, but now I think he underplayed it.” Chiron shifted on the damp
grass. “Come on, talk to your little brother.”

“Half brother.”

“Whatever. Spill.”

Poseidon’s throat closed, and he had to
swallow hard to open it again. “I’ve found her again. Medusa. She’s been
reborn.”

“Huh.” A soft huff of breath. “Explains
why I haven’t seen her in the Vale of Mourning lately.”

Poseidon turned, staring at his
centaurine
sibling. He had assumed Medusa would be sent
straight to Tartarus for her murderous crimes as the Gorgon. It had never
occurred to him that she might be somewhere else in the Underworld. “You
knew
she was in the Vale of Mourning?
And you didn’t
tell
me?”

“She asked me not to,” Chiron said flatly.
“She told me what you and Amphitrite did to her. I always knew you were an
arrogant asshole, but I didn’t think
Ammie
was that
much of a bitch.”

Poseidon wished his half-brother had a
physical body that he could beat senseless. “Amphitrite is blameless,” he
snarled. “None of this was her doing, do you hear me? It was all my fault.”

Chiron raised his hands. “Okay, sorry.
Nice to know my judgment isn’t that badly off. But you’re still an asshole.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Poseidon
said, hurling the bottle of wine out into the night sky. It disappeared into
the darkness quickly, but he could still hear the soft splash when it hit the
water. “I have been alone with my guilt and regret for over seven thousand
years, brother, with no way to make amends to either of my
agapetos
, or so I thought. Do you have any idea what it’s like to
find out that not only had Medusa been in the Vale all this time, but that
she’d been reborn? And no one
told
me?”

His half-brother sighed. “What would you
have done if they had?”

“I would have tracked her down and begged
her to forgive me, to return to Amphitrite and myself,” Poseidon said,
wondering at the idiotic question. “To be our mate as the Fates intended.”