The sea goddess drew in a breath. “I will have a word with Saylor. If he is responsible for the water attacks, he will be punished.”
Lady showed no sign she’d heard, but I was sure she had.
Edwin had managed to push the boat off the beach and into the water by himself. He held the bowline in one hand and used his free hand to turn the boat sideways so Lady and I only had to get wet to our waists to reach a rope ladder thrown over the side.
Lady climbed on board first and took her place in the captain’s chair. I went next and took my seat in behind where Edwin would sit next to Lady. Edwin threw the line up on the bow and then made a standing jump to land next to the rope. The boat bobbed under his sudden weight. He walked up the long deck, stepped over the windscreen, and settled himself in the chair. I glanced back at the beach and saw Calypso’s clenched jaw and narrowed eyes as Lady started the engines and we left Rippers Cove behind.
Lady waited until we were back on land to tell me what had angered her at Rippers cove.
“Just because I allow you to speak freely to me does not mean you may speak freely to all the godly,” she said after grabbing my arm and holding me back as Edwin continue up the dock towards the parking lot. “For you to speak to Calypso like that, without asking my and her permission first, was highly inappropriate.”
I felt my cheeks warm. It was like getting bawled out by the principal.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
“Did you pay no attention to how Edwin behaved? How he stood quietly away from Calypso and me? I expect you to be more aware, Shayna.”
I was equally pissed about being berated over things I knew nothing about and embarrassed that I hadn’t paid attention, hadn’t realized there was a protocol.
“Now I know,” I said.
“Yes,” Lady said and strode off down the dock.
I followed, still angry and slightly shameful. It wasn’t an emotional mix I was used to. Neither Lady nor Edwin seemed to notice or much care that I rode all the way to the house in silence.
A really hot shower and a change of clothes later, I felt ready to be enticed from my room by the wafting scents of something delicious coming from the kitchen. I padded sock-footed down the hall, following my nose. My one pair of jeans was completely salt-stiffened. I wore red-and-black plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt. My stomach rumbled and I realized I hadn’t eaten since that morning.
Edwin was in the kitchen when I walked in, his back to me, humming under his breath as he lifted a spoon to his lips to taste what he was cooking. Without turning he said, “Have a chair. This will be done in a few minutes and there’s more than enough for two.”
Evidently Edwin wasn’t holding my faux pas against me.
“What about Lady?” I said. “Does she not eat except for show, being a goddess and all.”
Edwin turned, the spoon still held in his hand. “She eats, sleeps, and probably does all the things regular folk do. She’s gone out.”
He took in my outfit. A bemused smile crossed his lips but he made no comment.
I answered with a shrug and said, “That smells good.”
He turned back and gave the pot a final stir. “It’s cannelloni, quinoa, and kale soup. Hot, hearty, with plenty of protein. Perfect comfort food after a day like we had.”
And vegetarian. Coincidence or consideration?
Edwin opened a drawer under the cook top and pulled out a large, silver ladle. He took two white porcelain bowls from a cupboard, spoons from another drawer (Asian style spoons, like tiny deep ladles themselves.) and filled both bowls with soup. He put one in front of me at the table and took a chair opposite with his own bowl.
I spooned up a swallow, blew on it to help it cool, and tasted. My eyes opened wide in surprise.
“This is beyond delicious.”
Edwin grinned. “Cooking is only one of my many talents.”
I chortled under my breath and tore into the soup. I knew I was hungry but hadn’t realized I was ravenous.
I was more than half way through my bowl when Edwin cleared his throat. I felt his eyes on me and looked up.
“Thanks for your help today,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” I said but waved his thanks away with a flick of my hand. We’d all helped each other out there today.
I ate a few more spoonfuls of the delicious soup wondering if Edwin would mind being questioned by me. Some people were fine with it; others felt it as an invasion of privacy.
I set down my spoon.
“What are you, Edwin. You have some mad magic skills, but you don’t feel like a wizard, witch, or mage to me.”
He shrugged. “Demigod. Like Saylor.”
I must have looked surprised or skeptical because he said, “There are lots of us around. The gods and goddesses are practically immortal. They get bored. One way to relieve the tedium is to seduce mortals.”
Which explained Lady’s comment that Michael Rawlings was an amusement, I thought.
Edwin smiled thinly. “The mortal women and the goddesses get pregnant often enough from these liaisons that there’s no shortage of demi-gods in the world.”
I was intrigued, which I thought must also show on my face because Edwin smiled like he’d told this story a hundred times but he’d indulge me.
“I’m named for my father—the east wind, which is one of the sun god’s favorite guises. Mother is human.”
“But Lady is a full-on goddess?”
Edwin nodded. “Califia is the child of the sun god, Ra—”
I held up my hand to stop him. “Ra?”
Edwin nodded again. ‘Like all the gods and goddesses, he’s been called by a lot of names. Ra is the one he likes best. I think he misses the days when the Egyptians worshipped him. He doesn’t get devotion like that today.”
He spooned another bite of soup into his mouth and swallowed before he continued. “After Mom named me Edwin—as close to east wind as she could come without saddling me with a name that would bring me loads of grief as a kid—Dad told her a better name would have been Ray. That bastard’s never satisfied with anything any human does.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile. I’d had great parents, but a lot of my friends growing up hadn’t. One needn’t be a god or goddess to be an asshole.
“Califia,” Edwin said, “is the daughter of Ra and the old goddess of California, who called herself Gaietta, little Gaia, after her mother, the earth goddess, who also calls herself Hutash, among other names. Which makes Califia my half-sister.” He laughed. “Things get complicated in families like mine.”
“Evidently,” I said, my head slightly swimming with this new and slightly weird information.
He gestured toward my bowl. “You done. Do you want some more?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
Edwin stood, gathered my dishes and his, and rinsed them in the sink. He lifted the top off a cake plate and returned with a piece of homemade baklava for each of us.
“Gaia/Hutash has plenty of ‘pure bred’ kids with Silver Fox, who created the world,” he said, sitting back at the table. “Full on gods and goddesses, not demis—halfs—like Saylor and me. Gaia gives each of her ‘pure’ children a piece of land for their kingdom. All the states have a god or goddess to look out for them. Each of the Canadian provinces has one, and each state in Mexico. Little countries, like they have in Europe get a god or goddess each. As boundaries change, wars often break out over who gets what under the new boundaries. The gods and goddesses aren’t much different from human families in their squabbling.”
We both turned back to nibbling on the baklava. It was scrumptious.
“Did you make this?” I asked.
He nodded. “Do you want another piece?”
I grinned. “Yes, please.”
As long as Edwin seemed in a talkative mood, I thought I’d press for more information.
“Is the Mermaid’s Lament magic?” I asked. “Saylor said it was.”
; “It is.”
“Magic how?”
Edwin chuffed, blowing enough breath out to slightly flutter his lips.
“Lady and Calypso are immortal, or as immortal as they can be. So long as one person somewhere on earth worships the sea goddess, she’s good. It’s a little trickier for Lady since people these days tend not to worship the particular ground on which they live. But Gaia is still honored and worshipped, and she siphons some of that to her land-children, so they’re good.”
“But,” I said, because I could hear that coming.
“People like Saylor and me, we’re finite, which I’d guess is why Saylor wants the necklace. It gives the wearer immortality.”
I gaped at him. “Immortality? Really?”
Edwin nodded.
I ran my hand through my hair. “No wonder Saylor wants it so badly.” I paused, thinking. “Is it general knowledge what the pearls do? Does Michael Rawlings know? Or his sister?”
“No,” Edwin said. “A lot of people know there’s magic there and think they know what the necklace does, but the truth is a closely held secret. I can count the people who know the truth on one hand.”
I regarded him. “Why tell me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed like I should.” He hesitated. “It’s probably better if neither Lady or Calypso, or Saylor for that matter, know I told you. Like I said, closely held secret.”
“Of course,” I said.
“Calypso is probably kicking herself that she told Saylor,” he said. “She doesn’t know I know and it’s much better for you if neither Calypso or Lady know you know.”
“Protocol,” I said.
He smiled thinly. “Got the lecture, did you? Lady can decide to stand on ceremony or not according to her whim. It can be hard to know what will set her off.”
“So I learned,” I said.
I wasn’t surprised that Saylor had lied about what the necklace could do. Much better for him if I believed the necklace might be used to an evil purpose rather than knowing it grants immortality to the wearer. Much better that everyone hunting for it not know its true magic, lest the finder keep it for him or herself.
“Why try to kill us?” I said. “Wouldn’t it be easier for Saylor if the necklace was recovered?”
“Only if he can get hold of it before Calypso does. She guards that thing much more closely than she does any of her children. She keeps it ‘just in case.’ Each pearl is an individual part of the full spell, so the necklace only works intact.”
Evidently, even immortals worried about death.
“I’m having a hard time picturing Saylor with a strand of pearls around his neck,” I said, hoping to lighten the somber mood our conversation had brought.
Edwin chortled. “That’s a lovely visual. He doesn’t have to wear them the way they are now, though. He can refashion the necklace into a bracelet or even use them as buttons. As long as all the pearls are there and in order, the spell holds.”
“So the best thing we can do is find the necklace and make sure it winds up in Calypso’s, not Saylor’s hands.”
“For Lady’s sake, yeah,” Edwin said. “Once those two quit their feuding, I don’t really care who winds up with the Mermaid’s Lament.”
I took that in. Edwin’s loyalty was to Lady. Nothing else mattered.
He stood and stretched. “It’s late. I’m going to turn in. See you in the morning.”
I trundled off to my room, but lay awake a long time thinking about goddesses, demigods, and a necklace that let its owner live forever.
14
In the morning I showered, had a wee, and pulled on my salt-encrusted jeans—the only ones I had—and a new t-shirt. I padded barefoot down the hall towards the kitchen. The scents of onions and garlic sautéing drew me on like an irresistible force.
It struck me that I’d been staying at Lady’s for only two days and—despite getting reprimanded yesterday—felt comfortable enough to go to breakfast barefoot, assumed Edwin had made enough for three, and there was a place and a plate waiting for me at the table. I’d worn pajama bottoms down for a snack last night, but that had been just Edwin and me. This morning, I presumed Lady would be there.
She was. But in the kitchen, not the breakfast room, which surprised me. The kitchen table was covered with a white linen tablecloth that hadn’t been there last night. The tablecloth had a waving line of orange California poppies embroidered around the edge. A nicety I suspected Lady insisted on—both the tablecloth and the poppies. I was happy to see there was a plate and silverware waiting for me.
“Good morning, Shayna,” Lady said as friendly as ever.
Edwin looked up from his plate filled with eggs scrambled with onions, garlic, and mushrooms, as well as four pieces of sourdough toast. “Eggs are on the stove in the kitchen. Toast is warming in the oven. Take your plate.”
“Good morning,” I said and nodded my thanks to Edwin, took the empty plate, and helped myself to the eggs and toast.
Edwin saw me eyeing a half full pot of coffee on the blue-tiled counter.
“Mugs are in the middle cabinet,” he said.
Between bites of really delicious eggs, I surreptitiously watched Lady and Edwin eat. I’ve seen a lot of ‘out-of-the-ordinary’ things, but I’ve never had breakfast with a goddess and a half-god before. Both ate with amazing gusto, forking a new bite into their mouths as quickly as they could get their hands to the plate for more and back to their mouths. You’d think neither of them had eaten for days.
When Lady slowed a bit, I said, “Do you have something specific for me to do this morning? A new lead to follow?”
Lady daintily wiped her lips with a cream-colored cloth napkin. “Find the Mermaid’s Lament before Calypso covers my land with salt three days from now.”
My face warmed. “Of course.” I hesitated, then plunged ahead. “You have several hunters out looking. My specialty is recovery. If there’s nothing pressing that only I can do—” I paused again. “I need to salvage my personal things from my house.”
Lady regarded me for a moment. “Yes. Of course you do. Go.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I should be back by ten-thirty.”
Lady waved her hand idly. “Three days, Shayna. Do keep that in mind.”
As if I’d forget—or she’d let me forget.
I moved my head a little to include both Lady and Edwin with my next sentence. “Thank you for breakfast.” I paused. “If you normally eat meat with breakfast, or any meal, don’t change because of me. I don’t mind.”
Lady regarded me with a non-committal gaze. Edwin shrugged. I shrugged, too, and
went back to my room for my purse and keys. Minutes later I was headed down the hill towards home.
It’s about a thirty-minute drive without traffic from the top of Palos Verdes into Hermosa Beach. I had time to think as I wended my way down the hill and then turned to follow the coast. There was a lot to think about. Mostly, being the bottom line person that I am, I thought about how to find and retrieve the Mermaid’s Lament. Which could be tough since there was more I didn’t know than I did.
I didn’t know where Lady’s enthusiastic suitor, Michael Rawlings, was. I didn’t know if he had the Mermaid’s Lament with him, or if he’d handed the pearls off to someone, or hidden them someplace. I didn’t know how much, if anything, Saylor knew about where the necklace might be. Or if Calypso knew, for that matter. Maybe she was playing Lady for reasons of her own. I had the sense those two had been trying to one-up one another for a long time.
I drove through Hermosa and turned up 19th Street having reached zero conclusions. I stopped at the front house where my landladies lived and knocked. No one seemed to be home. I went around back to see what sort of shape my house was in today. The windows were still open but the front door was locked. Seemed pretty silly to me, but I supposed it just didn’t set right with Darci and Bella, my landladies, to leave my house unlocked.
When I keyed the front door
open and stepped inside, my heart sank. I loved my little house, and it was in tatters. I stood a moment, closed my eyes, and sighed. What was done was done. Now it was time to see what could be salvaged.
The overpowering stench of sewage was gone, thank God, replaced by a fainter, slightly stinky garbage scent. The big fans were still blowing and the carpet squelched under my feet.
The couch was definitely ruined. The fabric was stained where the water had soaked it. The cushion stuffing was still wet and had turned mushy. Stuffing dangled from the couch’s bottom where the webbing had given up the struggle to hold water-soaked sponge in place.
The dining chair that had been lying on its back when I’d last been here was set upright now. I might be able to save it if I had the seat and back re-upholstered. The wooden legs were discolored from the water, but maybe they could be sanded down and re-stained.
The kitchen had fared better. The linoleum was wrecked, but the homeowners insurance would cover that. My dishes, flatware, glasses, toaster, and blender were fine. The pots and pans under the cook top had gotten wet, but I could sterilize them clean and still use them.
In the bedroom, it was obvious the bed frame and maybe the box springs would have to be replaced. That burst pipe must have been carrying a lot of water to soak my things that far up.
Okay. New bed. Some new sheets. Blankets. Everything could be replaced. It was only money.
I dreaded opening the bottom drawers of my dresser where I kept most of my keepsakes. Money couldn’t replace those.
I made myself pull it open. A heavy lump formed in my chest. I pulled out the three photo albums, set them on top of the dresser and began leafing through them.
The albums were soaked, their covers twisted and warped by the water. The photographs of my parents, dogs we had while I was growing up, family vacations, my school pictures, photos of my friends—all destroyed. Photographs I’d long meant to scan into my computer but just hadn’t quite gotten around to yet.
I knuckled my eyes, put the albums back and shut the drawer—the photos were beyond saving.
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