Elegy (A Watersong Novel) (8 page)

“What?” Harper glanced over her shoulder and saw Marcy staring at the dismantled bed, the pile of Liv’s clothes, and shredded books and posters. “Oh, that.”

“Oh,
that
?” Marcy scoffed. “What do you mean ‘oh that’? Half your room has been destroyed.”

“It’s my roommate’s half,” Harper pointed out.

“Yeah, I can tell, it’s like perfectly down the middle. Did you run a piece of tape down the floor, and say, ‘Here, you can wreck that half’?”

Harper shook her head. “No, she messed up her stuff when I wasn’t here, so I picked up all her stuff and put it on her half.”

“Of course you did,” Marcy muttered. “God, you’re so meticulous sometimes, it’s gross.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Can you give me like three seconds?” Harper asked, glancing back at her laptop as she typed. “I’m just about done with this, then I’ll be able to tell you all about my roommate from hell.”

Harper went back to finishing up her homework, but it only took a few seconds for Marcy to get into trouble. She heard Marcy poking around behind her, then the sound of tumbling wood as the rest of the bed frame clattered to the floor.

“Oops, sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m done now anyway.” Harper clicked save, then closed her laptop and swiveled her desk chair around, so she could face her friend.

“You should really have someone take this out of here.” Marcy jabbed her thumb at the mess behind her. “It’s probably a fire hazard or something.”

“I want to, but I don’t know if I should. She still technically lives here.”

“So what happened?” Marcy leaned over, inspecting the bed frame more closely. “Why’d she go all Tasmanian devil on you?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s on drugs or something. I tried talking to her, then she freaked out on me. She did this.” Harper tilted her head to the side and pulled her hair back, so she could show Marcy the scratches.

“Wow.” Marcy’s eyes widened behind her black-rimmed glasses. “You really need to talk to someone. You can’t let her come back here.”

“I know. I just don’t want to deal with it. There’s way too much other crap going on, and I haven’t had a chance to even look for a job here, and I’m so backed up on homework, and I don’t know what to get Daniel for his birthday, and oh yeah, I still haven’t cracked the code to the scroll that’s trapped my sister in a horrible curse.”

“How about cuff links?” Marcy asked.

Harper scrunched up her forehead in confusion. “What?”

“Daniel, for his birthday. Every guy should own a nice pair of cuff links.”

“Thanks for the tip, Marce.” Harper stood up. “Should we go see Lydia now? I have to meet with a study group in a couple hours.”

Marcy nodded, so Harper grabbed her purse, and they walked out into the hall.

“You’re taking this whole college thing way too seriously,” Marcy said, as Harper locked the dorm room behind her.

“Did you go to college?” Harper asked once they’d started walking down the hall, past the other dorm rooms.

“Yeah, for a year,” Marcy said. “I went to this New Age college in Arizona. They had no grades. I thought it would be awesome, but they kept making me talk about my feelings. I did learn how to play disc golf, so it wasn’t a total loss.”

“What did you go for?” Harper asked.

“I don’t know. They didn’t really have majors, but I was working for a degree in sunshine or something. It clearly wasn’t for me.”

“Clearly,” Harper agreed, as they reached the elevator. Ordinarily, she would’ve taken the stairs, but she knew that Marcy wouldn’t be up for it.

When they got to the lobby, they walked onto the campus lawn. Some of the maples had already begun turning orange and yellow, but the air still held the warmth of summer instead of the crispness of fall.

They made their way over to visitors’ parking and got into Marcy’s aging Gremlin. The air didn’t work, but she’d left the windows down, and a few leaves had made their way inside. The car sputtered and jerked as Marcy tried to start it.

“We could’ve taken my car, you know,” Harper pointed out.

“Lucinda will do it. Give her time.” Marcy turned the key again, and finally her car roared to life. “There we go.”

Within a few minutes, they arrived at Cherry Lane Books. The town seemed to be bustling a lot more now that school had started. The closest parking spot Marcy could find was nearly a block down, and she had to parallel park, which Lucinda did not seem to enjoy.

The windows on the bookstore were tinted too dark for Harper to see through, and the arch above the door creaked as she pushed the door open. There was almost a spooky air about the place, which made it all the more strange that such a cheerful little pixie ran it.

“Hey, guys!” Lydia beamed at them as Harper and Marcy came inside. She was carrying a stack of Edward Gorey books to the children’s section, but she walked to the front of the store. “How are you doing?”

“I got off work early, so I’m doing pretty fantastic,” Marcy said, sounding about as happy as Marcy was capable of sounding.

“You guys can have a seat if you want.” Lydia gestured to a children’s sitting area while she placed the books on the shelves.

There was a child-sized chair shaped like a dragon across from a My Little Pony recliner. In between them was a Lego table, where kids could play. Marcy chose the dragon chair, which was much too short for her, and she began shifting around to get comfortable. Harper sat on the floor, crossing her legs underneath.

“I’m sorry I don’t have much to tell you,” Lydia apologized. “This translation is ridiculous.”

Harper couldn’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t realize how much she’d been hoping Lydia could really help them until the hope began to fade.

“I need to explain why this process is taking so long,” Lydia said, and sat down in the My Little Pony chair, which seemed to fit her petite frame almost perfectly. The bright purple flower she wore in her hair was coming loose, and she tucked it back behind her ear.

“English didn’t exist back then,” Lydia went on. “Even if something translates to an ‘a,’ it’s not necessarily the same kind of way we use an ‘a,’ and the words are in an entirely different language, and once I figure that out, I then need to translate them again into English.

“The problem is that I don’t think it’s written in just
one
language, and it appears to be some kind of slang as well,” Lydia elaborated. “Unfortunately, back in the day, they weren’t real constant about language or grammar, so it can get pretty tricky.”

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but I guess I’m not surprised,” Harper admitted. “What about Achelous and Demeter? Were you able to find out anything on them?”

“I still have feelers out, but so far, it’s not looking good.” Lydia shook her head. “The last anybody was in contact with Achelous seems to be about two hundred years ago, then he just fell off the map. I’m not sure if he went into hiding or what, but he hasn’t been confirmed dead.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you. How does one become confirmed dead?” Marcy asked.

“Two or more immortals must see your remains shortly after you’re dead. If they can see you die also, that’s a bonus,” Lydia answered.

“How come only immortals can confirm it?” Marcy asked.

“Most mortals don’t know what they’re looking at. Humans don’t have a good grasp on the magical, so they might think they’re seeing a werewolf die when it’s just a crazy hairy guy. Or they might think it’s a human dying, when really it’s Athena.”

“
I
would be able to tell the difference,” Marcy said definitively.

“Maybe you would, but experts only trust testimony from other immortals,” Lydia said.

“What about Demeter?” Harper asked.

“She’s even trickier,” Lydia said. “She’s been off the grid for a very long time. Something really spooked her, and she hasn’t interacted with any other immortals in centuries.”

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Something spooked her?”

“I’ve heard that it was Achelous’ daughters. I know that the sirens are his daughters, but that’s not how my source referred to them. I’m assuming that they are one and the same, but I don’t like passing off assumptions as fact.”

“So what did Achelous’ daughters have to do with Demeter?” Harper asked.

“They were trying to kill her,” Lydia explained. “They hate her. Demeter doesn’t have a lot of enemies because she’s the goddess of earth and growth and helped people farm and raise families. She’s a nice one. So she stayed above the surface for most of her existence, but then, once she had a target on her back, she went underground the way a lot of gods have. Hades has been off the grid since almost the beginning of time.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Marcy waved her hands to stop Lydia. “Hades is still alive?”

Lydia nodded. “Yeah. He lives in Iceland.”

Marcy put her hand to her chin and seemed to think about that. “Interesting.”

“If he’s off the grid, how come you know where he is?” Harper asked.

“Nobody messes with him there. He’s lived there for like five hundred years. He has a quiet life now,” Lydia said. “And Demeter did pop up for a while in Asia, but I’m not sure if she’s still there. When I find her, I’ll tell you.

“In the meantime, I do have more bad news about the muses.” Lydia frowned. “I thought they were all
probably
dead, but the last two that I thought had any chance of being alive—Erato and Polyhymnia—have been confirmed dead. Sorry.”

“How many muses were there?” Marcy asked.

“Nine originally,” Lydia said. “The first one died fifteen hundred years ago, and they’ve been dropping off ever since. The last one died only fifty years ago, and she lived right in Maryland. The sirens might have been looking for her when they came to Capri.”

“Why would they be looking for a muse?” Harper asked.

“Muses keep secrets. Their lovers were gods and immortals, and they would divulge all their hidden truths. A muse might know where Demeter is, or Achelous, or how to break a curse, or any of a million other things the sirens might want to know.”

“You think a muse would know how to break the curse?” Harper asked.

“Possibly.” Lydia wagged her head from side to side, like she was skeptical. “But we’ll never know. When the last muse died, she took all her secrets with her.”

“Why would the sirens come to Capri for a dead muse?” Marcy asked.

“They didn’t know she was dead,” Lydia said. “It takes a while for news to travel in supernatural circles. It’s not like they can post things on Twitter. And Thalia was the last one, so they’d—”

“What?
Thalia?
” Harper cut her off. “The last muse’s name was Thalia?”

“Yes, she was the muse of comedy,” Lydia said, looking confused by Harper’s reaction.

Harper had read about the muses a hundred times, but somehow, all their names had become a blur in her mind. She hadn’t been focusing on the ones who weren’t related to the sirens, so she’d almost completely overlooked Thalia.

But it had stayed somewhere in the back of her mind. That’s why the name sounded so familiar when she was looking at pictures of Bernie’s wedding. And now it all came together.

“Bernie’s wife was named Thalia,” Harper said, speaking rapidly. “She died in 1961 or ’62. That’s like fifty years ago.”

“You’re talking about Bernie of Bernie’s Island fame?” Marcy asked. “That could just be a coincidence, Harper.”

“It could be, but…” Harper shook her head, thinking of what Professor Pine had said yesterday about things being too coincidental. “It’s not. Bernie always used to say that his wife inspired him to build that cabin for her. I think he even referred to her as his muse before, but I just didn’t put it together until now.”

“How did Thalia the muse die?” Marcy asked.

“I’m not completely sure,” Lydia said. “She was mortal, and it was natural causes.”

“That’s Thalia McAllister!” Harper persisted. “She died falling off a ladder after she’d married Bernie. She probably became mortal for him.”

“Muses have done that,” Lydia said. “Fall in love, get married, become mortal, then die. That’s part of the reason why there aren’t any left.”

“She might have known how to break the curse?” Harper asked, the excitement making her voice high.

“She might have, yes. But that won’t really help now,” Lydia told her sadly.

“Daniel found a bunch of papers and old photographs in Bernie’s house. Bernie had hidden them up in the attic. He didn’t want people to find them. Dad said that Bernie had told him that eventually someone would come looking for him, probably sirens. Dad just thought Bernie was being superstitious and paranoid, but he was right.”

“The destruction of a curse isn’t the kind of thing Thalia would’ve written down, and she wouldn’t have had to,” Lydia explained. “A muse’s memory is practically eidetic.”

“But this is it,” Harper insisted, and got up. “This could be our chance. I have to get home to look through Bernie’s stuff.”

“No, you have to go to your study group.” Marcy tried to stand up, but it was more of a struggle since she was wedged into the dragon chair. Harper took her hand and helped pull her to her feet. “I can go to your house, and me, Gemma, and your dad can go through Bernie’s stuff. If it’s in there, we’ll find it.”

“Fine,” Harper agreed grudgingly. “I trust you. But you have to call me the second you find anything.”

“Harper, I wouldn’t get your hopes too high.” Lydia stood up and looked at Harper gravely. “There might be something useful in her papers, but it’s very unlikely that she’ll have the instructions on how to break something that I’m not even sure can be broken.”

“We have to try, though,” Harper said. “Thank you for everything, Lydia.”

She practically ran out of the shop, and Marcy struggled to keep up with her since Marcy was completely opposed to jogging. As they walked down to the car, Harper slowed enough for Marcy to keep up.

“Oh, my god,” Marcy said. “It’s like Christmas morning.”

“It’s better than Christmas!” Harper shouted, unable to stop herself. “We could be free of those psychotic witches once and for all. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”