Sea Breeze: Phantom Queen Book 8 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries)

by Shayne Silvers

  “Happy thoughts! Think happy thoughts, you idiot!”

  The cry came from my shoulder, but I couldn’t turn to look. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry, whether I should pray or curse. Instead, I did what the tiny, buzzing voice said and focused on all things joy. It proved even more difficult than I expected; memories of laying against Cathal as he slept were overridden by those of our recent goodbye, visions of Eve replaced by NeverEden, my time amongst the Curaitl pitted against what I’d seen in the Blighted Lands.

  “Hurry!”

  I doubled down, going even further back, but found only more pain, more suffering. Christoff cradling his head in his hands. Ryan’s agonized howl, his tears frozen on cerulean cheeks. Othello and her cousin standing over fallen friends. Robin, Hilde, and the others shot to pieces while I watched. Max, bleeding. Blair, bleeding. Dez, bleeding.

  Dez.

  A memory rose, unbidden, of the night I’d snuck in from a rock concert. Well, the morning, really; me and a few boys from the neighborhood had driven down to New York to catch the show and had only just got back in town. I knew I was busted, but I’d had a couple beers on the ride home and was too buzzed to care. So what if my aunt grounded me? She was already livid I’d been kicked out of St. Jude’s, always judging the friends I’d made since I’d switched schools. Anyway, it had been worth it. I’d moshed so hard at one point I’d forgotten my own name, forgotten everything but the beat and pulse of the music—caught up in the rush of adrenaline, I’d taken shove after shove, laughing all the while.

  But Dez wasn’t waiting for me when I got in. The cops were. Dez was huddled at the foot of the stairs in her robe, mopping at her eyes with a tissue. Certain she’d called the police on me, I nearly bolted, but Dez got there first. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me down into an unsolicited hug, saying she was sorry, so sorry. That she’d listen more, that she’d try harder. The officers ducked out as fast as they could, clearly discomfited by this blubbering mess of a woman. I learned later that she’d pulled all sorts of stunts to get them there, including ringing up Father McKinley in the wee hours of the morning. After that, things changed between us. I opened up more, played it safer. Dez stopped harping, picked her battles with greater care. Even now, falling from the sky, I could recall the weight of her arms around my neck, her head burrowed in the crook of my shoulder, the scent of her hair, the way she trembled and sobbed. Loved, that’s how I’d felt. Loved.

  At last, I slowed.

  “Too late, now!” Tinkerbell shouted from a few feet away, gesturing at the impossibly close surface, her pink glow reflected in the water below.

  Well, shit.

  I slammed into the sea and promptly blacked out.

  16

  A firm shake—followed almost immediately by a pail full of briny sea water splashing across my face and chest—sent me spluttering to my side, gasping for air. I groaned as the world around me writhed, the contents of my stomach threatening to come back up. Mainly candy, I’d expect, given my previous accommodations.

  “Tink, not like that!” A hand crossed my field of vision, then again. “Are you alright?”

  Both the hand and the voice belonged to James; the young man’s eyes, pastel blue in the dwindling afternoon light, were wide and pitying. I frowned before I could help myself, unsure of my answer. Was I alright? I sat up a bit, struggling to recall how I’d gotten here—wherever here was. I stared past the young man, taking in the furled sails and loose rigging. The deck of the Jolly Roger was empty aside from the two of us, though I swore I could hear someone chattering away on the other side of the ship—a man’s voice carrying somehow over the sound of waves lapping against the hull.

  Memories came flooding back, haphazardly. Crashing into the frothing ocean. Eve’s transformation. Green flames. Peter Pan, Wendy, and the man who’d called himself Killian Jones. The earth shaking beneath my feet. Running. Leaping. Falling. Tinkerbell’s voice in my ear. My not-so-happy thoughts. I grunted, shook my head, and choked out a laugh.

  “I’ve been better,” I admitted.

  “I wouldn’t try and move too fast,” James said. “You hit the water hard.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “A few hours.”

  His response sparked a series of questions. Where had the island gone? Where were we? Who remained onboard? I unleashed them in a barrage, firing off one after the other as each occurred to me. Even as I spoke, I rose, shrugging off James’ attempt to help; despite the fall, I felt perfectly fine, albeit a bit wet. “And whose brilliant idea was it to pour water on me, anyway?” I asked, at last.

  “That would be Tinkerbell. She thought it would revive you. Guess she was right.” James made a motion, showcasing me as evidence. “Neverland is gone. Tinkerbell wanted to follow it, but worried she wouldn’t be able to find us, after. Luckily, she spotted you on the edge just before you jumped.” James hesitated, clearly waiting for me to fill him in on why I’d leapt, or perhaps what had happened on the island in the first place. When I didn’t, he flushed red and continued. “Well, anyway, the ugly one Tiger Lily kept calling Lord left right before the island started to fly. Your other two companions are still here.”

  James said the last as though he were less than happy about it. Following his gaze, I realized the man’s voice I’d heard earlier belonged to Narcissus; I couldn’t tell what the Greek was saying, but it sounded unsurprisingly pompous. It seemed he’d taken over the Crow’s Nest, high above our heads, though I wasn’t sure who he was speaking to—not that there were many candidates left to choose from. James, Tinkerbell, Tiger Lily, Helen, and Narcissus. I wasn’t shocked to learn Oberon had cut and run; from what I’d seen, the Goblin King had a knack for being elsewhere when shit went sideways.

  Maybe one day I’d ask him to teach a seminar.

  “And where are we?” I asked, again. “Ye can’t have stayed put, what with the tides and all. Unless Tinkerbell got ye floatin’ again.”

  “Doing the whole ship is really tough on her,” James said, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to say more but apparently thought better of it. Instead, he gestured to the Crow’s Nest. “We’ve been following his directions. Well, their directions. The woman doesn’t talk as much.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I replied, thoughtfully.

  “Are you sure you’re alright? That was an awful fall…”

  In response, I held out a hand and flexed my fingers one by one, analyzing the sensation. Admittedly, it was hard to distinguish between how I felt now and how I’d felt earlier that day; while I could move faster, even hit harder, it was the increased durability which registered most. Frankly, it was as if I’d forsaken the aches and pangs one associated with being human. My hips and back—sore from days spent sleeping in a chair in a nightmare house designed to lure in curious, starving children—for example, no longer twinged with every movement. My bum knee no longer complained when I put too much weight on it. Even the stiffness in my neck had vanished. If anything, I felt uncommonly capable, as though something frenetic lurked beneath the surface—a latent, violent energy swirling in the empty air between my fingers. I smiled as I dropped my hand to my side.

  “I feel better than I have in days,” I replied, honestly, glancing up. This time when I met James’ eyes, however, I caught a flicker of uncertainty in them—though I had no idea why. Was it that I’d survived the fall, or was it something else? The young man looked away, blushing again, before I could ask. Had I embarrassed him? I quickly took stock of my appearance, afraid something was showing that ought not to have been, but nothing was out of place, merely wet. “What’s the matter, James?” I asked, finally.

  “You’re the first woman around his age who he’s ever seen.”

  I turned to find Helen eavesdropping on us from the forecastle deck, still swaddled in her cloak, sitting atop a barrel. I frowned, wondering how long she’d been there. Not for the first time, I felt a tingle of suspicion working at my gut, tellin
g me there was more to this woman than met the eye. “That’s ridiculous. There were plenty of women his age in the village.”

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” James interjected, vehemently. He glared up at Helen, displaying a level of hostility that I found familiar, albeit disconcerting. “Anyway, she’s awake now. It’s time for you to fulfill your end.”

  “What’s goin’ on?” I asked, looking back and forth between the two.

  “I made a deal with the boy,” Helen explained, slipping off the edge of the barrel. She descended the steps to the main deck, flashing a pair of pale, slender legs in the process. “I swore I’d tell him where we were sailing once you woke up, provided he set the course I gave him and didn’t ask too many questions. I wasn’t interested in wasting time.”

  “She also said you’d tell us what happened to Neverland,” James added, hands balled into fists at his side, spine unnaturally straight. “Tink has enough dust left to keep the ship running without a crew, but watching our home fly away wasn’t exactly what we had in mind when we asked you for help. If you lied to us, you’ll all walk the plank, and we’ll return to our people.”

  I held up a hand, trying to calm the increasingly tense situation. “I’ll tell ye what happened on the island, James, I promise. But I’d rather tell all of ye at once, so I don’t have to tell it twice.” I quickly shifted my attention to the Greek demigoddess. “And what’s this about our course?”

  Helen perked up a bit at my tone, almost as though she were offended. “You were unconscious, and the boy wasn’t sure what to do. I simply pointed him in the right direction.”

  “And which direction would that be?”

  “Land ho!” Narcissus cried from above, before she could answer.

  The three of us turned as one, following the Greek’s outstretched arm to find a speck on the horizon, almost imperceptible from this distance. That Narcissus had noticed it at all probably meant he’d been looking for it. Which also meant it was likely our intended destination. James and I turned back to face Helen, who continued to study the landmass.

  “I thought you’d have figured that out, by now,” she said, clearly responding to me despite her apparent disinterest. “We’ve taken our first steps on Odysseus’ Path. Or we will, once we pass beyond the temple and cross the veil between this realm and the next.”

  “The veil?”

  Helen tilted her head a bit, gesturing through her cloak. “We’ll encounter it, soon. In fact, we should prepare ourselves while we still have time. The rest can wait.”

  I cocked an eyebrow, wondering why Helen was so determined to put James and I off; the island Narcissus had spotted was a ways in the distance, which meant we should still have had plenty of time to gather everyone and go over what had happened since I’d left the ship, not to mention discuss our next steps—all of which hinged upon the Greeks and their willingness to help us.

  “Ye can’t mean that island, there?” I asked, squinting. As we sailed closer, I thought I could make out a Greek temple sitting atop the tallest hill. The shape was distinct, though even from this distance I could tell the structure was made of wood, not stone; the light caught the inferior material differently.

  “No,” Helen replied, “the veil lies beyond Gaia’s Temple. To get to the other side, however, we must first survive the storm. While avoiding the realm’s guardians, of course.”

  “There’s no storm brewing,” James insisted, one hand planted above his eyes to block the glare as he studied the sky. He was right. Despite the dwindling daylight, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Still, I didn’t doubt Helen’s word; I’d seen an entire landmass take to the heavens like a helicopter only a few hours before, its surface miraculously rejuvenated, piloted by a talking tree. A storm sounded downright prosaic, by comparison.

  “What sort of storm are we talkin’?” I asked. “And what guardians? Why didn’t ye tell us any of this, sooner?”

  “You didn’t think we’d simply be able to stroll into this realm, to sail across seas that have remained undisturbed for millenia, without facing some sort of obstacle, did you?” Helen asked, voice deadpan.

  Truthfully, I hadn’t given it much thought; planning that far ahead hadn’t seemed prudent, given everything else I’d had going on. In hindsight, however, I had to admit it made sense. I’d spent decades trying to find an entrance into Fae, after all, only to plummet from the sky the instant we sailed across the threshold. My first trip to the Otherworld had involved deep sea diving through scalding waters without so much as a pair of goggles. Hell, years back I’d seen a wizard slit a man’s throat to gain entrance to a peculiar pocket of the afterlife. Indeed—now that I’d visited a few realms—I had to admit I approved of the heightened security.

  “Alright, James, let’s do as she says, for now. Find Tiger Lily and Tinkerbell, would ye?” I offered him a thin-lipped smile before giving Helen the full weight of my gaze. “Once this is over, ye and I need to have a word.”

  “Very well.”

  “Don’t forget to include me, as well,” James added for good measure before spinning on his heel to leave, only to accidently clip Narcissus as he scampered down from his lofty perch. The Greek danced away, rubbing his shoulder, but the son of Captain Hook hardly seemed to notice; he spared Narcissus little more than a glance before continuing on his way.

  “My, he seems wound up. Was it something I did?” Narcissus asked.

  “No, it wasn’t,” I said, still glowering at Helen.

  “Oh, don’t spare my feelings,” Narcissus replied, gesticulating with one hand. “I’m sure whatever it is I’ve done to upset the poor boy, he’ll come around. I’m really quite approachable, you know.” Narcissus beamed at us both until—after perhaps a full minute of sullen silence—his gleaming smile at last began to wilt about the edges. “So, how about those sirens? Isn’t it just revolting what that lot does with all their luring and drowning and what not? Personally, I wish they’d give it up, already.”

  If possible, I gave Helen an even dirtier look.

  “I t’ink I’ll have that word now, instead.”

  “Oh dear, now I’ve gone and done it,” Narcissus said, dramatically. “Guess the nymph’s out of the bag!”

  17

  The storm Helen had predicted hit before we could have our much needed one-on-one. Judging from the roll of the ship and the howl of the wind outside, I doubted very much whether a typical sailing vessel would have survived. Thankfully, Tinkerbell’s dwindling supply of dust kept us from capsizing; we skimmed the surface of the choppy water, slipping over each massive swell with but a slight bob. Meanwhile, we’d gathered in the captain’s quarters, located below the poop deck—an unfortunate descriptor if ever I heard one—per Helen’s advice. Initially, I’d hoped to take the opportunity to catch the Neverlanders up on current events, perhaps even talk strategy, but Helen put a stop to that almost immediately; she passed out earplugs while Narcissus browbeat us all into shoving them into our ears. Mainly by refusing to shut up.

  “Sirens, fellow shipmates, are half-bird, half-human creatures,” he said as he sashayed about the cabin. “Not sure which end is which, having never seen one myself, but reports suggest they are quite repulsive. What we want to avoid here is overhearing their song, which is reputed to be quite lovely. Though, of course,” he added, nudging Tiger Lily with one elbow, “they’d hardly hold a note next to yours truly. Apollo himself once crowned me karaoke champion, you know.”

  “Don’t touch me,” Tiger Lily growled.

  “Wait, I thought the sirens were located elsewhere?” I asked, dimly recalling my tenth-grade reading of Homer’s second most-famous work behind The Iliad. For some reason, I thought they’d be further along in our journey. “Why would they be here?”

  “Did you already put in your ear plugs?” Narcissus asked, clucking his tongue. “I told you, dear, sirens are half-bird. They migrate. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yes. You’ll want to wear these earplugs until the sto
rm is over, just to be safe. Any questions?”

  I ran my tongue over my eye-teeth, casually weighing the pros and cons of throwing Narcissus out into the storm. I doubted he’d die; I wasn’t and never had been that lucky. “James,” I said at last, “if Narcissus calls me ‘dear’ one more time, I want ye to make him walk the plank.”

  “With pleasure.”

  “So sensitive!” Narcissus cried. “That’s alright, we can’t all be thick-skinned. Or smooth-skinned for that matter.” Narcissus ran his hands tenderly up and down his slender arms. He flashed us all a beatific smile, blew me a kiss, and slid his own earplugs home. Helen quickly followed suit, her hand dipping in and out of the shadows of her cowl. After a moment’s hesitation the Neverlanders—though clearly baffled by the foam devices they’d been given—imitated the Greeks.

  For a brief moment, I considered leaving my own ears unplugged. Hadn’t Odysseus done something like that? From what I recalled, he’d had his crew tie him to the mast so he could hear the song without succumbing to it—curious to a fault. Indeed, the notion struck me as profoundly unwise, however clever his execution had been. Frankly, I wasn’t interested in trying my luck, no matter how incredible an experience it might prove to be. In that sense, I supposed Eve had been right on the money: the bottom line was the only unit of measurement I cared about. Which meant if we had to sit in a cramped cabin for several hours waiting for a supernatural storm to die down while ignoring the calls of mythical creatures hoping to lure us to our deaths, so be it.

  Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn’t going to be that easy; the ship suddenly shuddered with enough force to send us all sprawling. I collapsed onto the captain’s desk, spilling a bottle of ink and several sheets of parchment onto the floor in the process. Helen and Narcissus tumbled against the far wall, taking out maps that had been pinioned there by daggers—the pirate equivalent to thumbtacks, I gathered. The Neverlanders, on the other hand, kept their feet with enviable ease. James even had the gall to cock an eyebrow at us, as though we were children playing a silly game.