The Siren Song

by Anne Ursu

  The answer arrived several minutes later, after Zee and Charlotte sat in silence for some time thinking of their new ambition, their new burden. Mrs. Mielswetzski came into the room, her face tired and pale, and smiled down at her daughter.

  “How are you doing, sweetie?” she asked.

  “I’m okay, Mom,” Charlotte said. “Are you okay?”

  Mrs. Mielswetzski nodded. “Don’t worry about us. We’re going to bring you up some pizza later, okay? Would you like that?”

  “Yes,” Charlotte said softly.

  “Okay. You don’t tire her out, Zee.”

  “I won’t,” said Zee firmly.

  “I love you, Charlotte,” Mrs. Mielswetzski said.

  “I love you too, Mom,” Charlotte said.

  Mrs. Mielswetzski leaned down to kiss Charlotte on the cheek, then squeezed Zee’s shoulder and started to head out of the room. Then she stopped suddenly. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I completely forgot.” Reaching into her pocket, she produced an envelope. “I found a letter for you in the mail. It’s addressed to you both.”

  Charlotte and Zee exchanged a quick glance. Mrs. Mielswetzski handed the letter to Zee, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Zee looked at the handwriting on the envelope and nodded slowly at Charlotte.

  “You read it,” Charlotte said, her throat dry.

  And he did:

  Charlotte and Zachary,

  I have made a grave error. I believe that you are in danger. I thought I could best protect you by keeping away from you, but I was wrong. The gods have no interest in me. It is you who concerns them. I have much to discuss with you. But first, you must know that Philonecron is the grandson of Poseidon. Poseidon does not like it when people harm his descendants, and I fear that he will try to exact revenge. Whatever you do, you must stay away from the sea.

  “Oh, great,” Charlotte muttered. “I’ll do that.”

  Zee snorted.

  More importantly, there is something afoot, something that may affect the fate of us all, and I’m afraid you two are involved. My first priority is to keep you safe. I will come for you soon.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Metos

  Zee put the letter down and gazed warily at Charlotte, who was gazing warily back at him. A moment passed, then two.

  “Huh,” said Charlotte.

  “Huh,” said Zee.

  Another pause.

  “Doesn’t explain a lot, does he?” asked Charlotte.

  “Nope,” said Zee.

  And another.

  “Do you think he has a first name?” asked Charlotte.

  “It doesn’t seem like it,” said Zee.

  And one more.

  “What do you think he means?” asked Charlotte.

  “I don’t know,” said Zee. “But…maybe we get to do something.”

  “Yeah,” Charlotte said. “Maybe.”

  They sat in silence a while longer. Mew got up and spun around three times, then settled herself back on Zee’s lap with a satisfied grunt. Zee read the letter twice more, and then gave it to Charlotte to read again. While she was looking at it, Zee sat with his head against the wall.

  “Hey, Char?” he asked suddenly.

  “Yeah?”

  “When Proteus was me? That whole week?”

  Charlotte squirmed internally. “Yeah?”

  “Did he do anything that I should know about?”

  Charlotte blinked a few times, then put on her most reassuring smile. “Um…no,” she said. “Nothing at all.”

  EPILOGUE

  Under the Sea

  PHILONECRON DID NOT LIKE BEING WET. AT ALL. NOR did he like it when his clothes were wet, especially one of his nice new tuxedos, which was dry clean only and not meant to be submerged in seawater. Nor did he like it when he had been plunged into the ice-cold waters of the Mediterranean by his mortal enemy, who had, once again, defeated and humiliated him.

  As Philonecron sank slowly to the bottom of the sea, he thought about where things had gone wrong and how much he did not like being wet. He did not quite know how he was to get above water again, for he had never been dumped in the sea before and was unfamiliar with the proper procedure. He supposed he could simply swim his way up, but it seemed so undignified. And he wasn’t entirely sure he knew how.

  It is a very difficult thing to dream of sitting on top of the Universe and then find yourself sitting at the bottom of the sea. Philonecron imagined himself dog-paddling his way back to the yacht—assuming the dread beast that the girl had commanded had not destroyed it completely—but what was the point? Once again his plans had failed, once again he was foiled. He could not go back there; he’d been humiliated, it was the site of his great failure, and anyway all the relentless tackiness gave him a rash.

  And do you know what really bothered him? Really and truly? He had been sincere with the girl. Really. He would have traded Zero—ah, his precious Zero! It was never to be, was it? It was a foolish dream, but a beautiful one, nonetheless!—for the trident. It wounded him that she did not believe him. He would have let them go, too, perhaps wiping away a tear as the cousins nobly made their way to safety together, before he zapped her into a pile of ash and wheeled himself back and forth over her remains.

  At least the girl would die horribly. Poseidon would come for his trident, and he would make her pay for her transgressions in his own vulgar way. Philonecron would have liked to do it himself, of course, to kill her with his own bare hands in as slow and painful manner as possible. But he was willing to sacrifice for the greater good.

  The fact was, there was no place for an evil genius in this world. All he wanted was a little corner of the Universe that he could call his own while he plotted to overthrow Zeus and unleash chaos on Earth. Was it so much to ask? It was cruel that someone with his gifts should be made to suffer so. Really, it was just another sign of the Olympians’ ineptitude.

  Yes, Philonecron was despairing. If he did not immediately say “Well, this is just another setback, but I am going to get back on the old horse,” if he did not say “Buck up, little camper,” or “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again,” if he merely sat in his wheelchair in the muck at the bottom of the sea watching the bottom-feeders go by, you would have to forgive him. Philonecron was a man of big dreams, and when those dreams came crashing down on his head—well, it hurt. It did. He felt things quite deeply.

  So focused was Philonecron on his own bad fortune that he did not notice that the sea had turned very cold and very dark all of a sudden, nor did he notice the way all the life around him seemed to flee, nor did he notice the slow approach of a creature so large it seemed to be bigger than the sea itself. He noticed nothing until a horrible smell overtook him, and then he turned quickly around and found himself staring into the giant, gaping mouth of a Ketos.

  “Oh, for the love of—”

  But it was too late. The creature swallowed him up, along with everything else in a two-hundred-yard radius. Philonecron found himself tumbling through darkness, accompanied by a great rush of water and slime. Then, after what seemed an eternity, he slammed against some kind of very sticky wall and fell to the floor, where he decided that there were fates much worse than being wet.

  Another time in his life, Philonecron might have screamed, have fought, have tried to climb his way out toward the light, but at this moment he simply did not have the will. And truthfully, there was no escape for him—if he started to go through the creature’s esophagus, a rush of water would have sent him tumbling back down again. Philonecron would just have to wait. He would be free eventually—though the process of emerging would be very unpleasant indeed.

  So Philonecron sat and thought about the great cruelty of fate while the Ketos swam steadily on. Every once in a while, a great rush of water would come in, swirl him around a bit, and throw him against the wall again, but he hardly cared, because when you’ve been tumbled around by digestive fluid once, you might as well do
it a hundred times more.

  Then, suddenly, a great roar vibrated the walls around Philonecron and he sighed heavily. Whatever was going to happen now, it was probably not going to be good.

  And something did happen. But it was not something bad. The whole inside of the Ketos lit up as if electrified, a piercing shriek filled the air as if the very heavens had been ripped apart, and everything around him began to convulse. Philonecron was thrown this way and that, bouncing from one wall to another, as slime and acid washed over him. Then there was a tremendous sinking sensation—the Ketos was going down, down, down—and then suddenly…strangely…everything was quiet.

  And very still.

  Philonecron looked around carefully. There was no movement, no sound, nothing. He had gone from being inside a living creature to being inside a dead one. Which changed everything.

  And as Philonecron considered the situation, something came tumbling into Ketos’s stomach with him, something long and thin, something shiny and smooth, something familiar and fateful. And Philonecron suddenly realized that his fortune was very good, indeed.

  “Well, hello there!”

  Quickly he rolled himself over and picked up the trident. It was completely cold and still, like an ordinary object. But of course there was nothing ordinary at all about it. And fortunately, there was nothing ordinary about Philonecron, either.

  He reached his arm out and sliced it open with a fingernail. Blood dripped slowly out onto the wheelchair’s arm. As it did so, he muttered a few well-chosen words, and the blood began to form four separate pools. One for each grandparent. Carefully he dipped his finger in the first pool and touched it to the trident. Nothing happened. He did the same with the next one, with the same result. Then he placed the blood from the third pool on the trident and, slowly, it began to warm in his hands. A smile crept across Philonecron’s face. Using his finger, he sketched a symbol on the trident with his grandfather’s blood, and as soon as he was done the trident began to hum.

  A few moments and a carefully aimed trident later and Philonecron was standing on brand-new legs. He stretched up and ran a finger lovingly down the handle of the humming trident.

  “Well,” he said. “I think you and I will be very happy together.”

  BESTIARY

  Chimera

  A beast with the head of a lion, body of a goat, and tail of a dragon. Has an extra goat head sticking out of its torso, which seems a little unnecessary.

  Delphin

  A dolphin who serves Poseidon. When Poseidon sought Amphitrite’s hand in marriage, the nymph fled. It was Delphin who found her and persuaded her to marry Poseidon. He proved his loyalty when he planned their wedding—with, we presume, lots of dolphin ice sculptures.

  Echidna

  A half-nymph, half-serpent creature covered in mud and leeches. Goddess of sea slime, rot, and plague. Known as the “Mother of all Monsters,” she gave birth to the Hydra, Cerberus, the Gorgons, the Chimera, and a whole host of others. Lives in a secluded cave at the bottom of the sea, which is probably best for everyone.

  Empusa

  A shape-shifting female demon with hair of flames, legs of bronze, and hooved feet. Not a very nice thing to call someone.

  The Graiai

  Also known as the “Gray Sisters,” they are three impossibly old she-demons who share one tooth and one eye among them. Cranky, as you might imagine.

  Ichthyocentaur

  A fish-tailed centaur. Not as weird-looking as it sounds.

  Indos Worm

  A giant worm that inhabits the Indus River in India. By day it rests in the mud at the bottom of the river; by night it prowls the land, hunting for large animals to drag back down to its slimy lair to eat. Gross.

  Karkinos

  A giant crab. Looks excellent in formal wear.

  Ketos

  A massive sea monster. Interests include destroying sea towns, swallowing ships, and belching.

  Polyphemos

  The son of Poseidon. He is the Cyclops who was blinded by Odysseus. Dines on the flesh of people trapped in his cave. Not very nice.

  Scylla and Charybdis

  Sailors who pass on one side of the Strait of Messina will be devoured by Scylla, a giant female beast with a pack of dogs below her waist. Those who pass on the other side will be sucked into the horrible mouth of Charybdis. Best to find another route.

  Siren

  A female nymph whose irresistible song enchants passing sailors who then dive off their ships and drown. Takes requests.