Elegy (Watersong #4) Read online

  “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?”

  “Yeah, it certainly would,” Marcy agreed.

  “This might really be it, Marcy.”

  Marcy sighed. “It might be, but it’s probably not that simple.”

  EIGHT

  Ransack

  “Well, this clearly isn’t working,” Marcy said, as Daniel dangled his legs through the hole in his ceiling.

  He’d been crawling around in the narrow attic above his house. The only way in or out of the attic was through a square doorway in the ceiling above his closet, and he slid through it before dropping to the ground.

  “Sorry, Gemma,” Daniel said as he brushed dust and cobwebs off his clothes. “There’s nothing up there but mouse poop and a skeleton from a bat, which was actually pretty creepy.”

  “Nice,” Marcy said, nodding in approval.

  Gemma leaned past Daniel and peered up into the darkness, as if she’d be able to spy something that he hadn’t been able to see with a flashlight.

  The whole time Daniel had been searching his attic, Marcy had been sitting on his queen-sized bed. While he was out of sight, she’d taken the liberty of going through his nightstand drawers. Now that he was back, she was absently leafing through the worn copy of The Old Man and the Sea he had on his nightstand.

  “Have you even read this?” Marcy asked Daniel, and gestured to the book. “I bet you haven’t even read it. I bet you put it on the nightstand so people would think you’re smart. Do you think Hemingway impresses Harper?”

  “No, I think that was my grandfather’s book, and I have read it,” Daniel said. “Twice.”

  “I have 101 Ways to Live Longer on my nightstand, so if I die in my sleep, when the paramedics or mortician or whoever come in, they’ll see it, and be all, ‘Well, I guess that book didn’t work,’ and they’ll have a good laugh,” Marcy said. “It’s important to laugh in times like that.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t miss anything?” Gemma asked. She was standing on her tiptoes and leaning on the T-shirts Daniel had hanging in his closet.

  “I looked in every nook and cranny,” Daniel assured her. “There’s nothing up there.”

  Gemma sighed. “There has to be something we missed.”

  “Why? Why does there have to be something we missed?” Marcy asked.

  “Because.” Gemma stepped out of Daniel’s closet and ran a hand through her hair. “If Thalia was a muse, there just has to be something, and I looked through all her papers last night—”

  “I know,” Marcy said, without looking up from Daniel’s book. “I was there. I helped, remember?”

  After the visit to Cherry Lane Books, Harper had called Gemma and instructed her to immediately start going through the box of Bernie’s stuff she’d left in her bedroom. Gemma did as she was told, and when Marcy returned from Sundham, she joined Gemma.

  They’d spent hours going through the box, making sure to look over and analyze every scrap of paper for any possible clue or hint to Thalia’s true nature. Unfortunately, it all ended up being fairly ordinary.

  It seemed to be Bernie’s collection of Thalia’s things, his memories of her, and not any of her actual stuff. Mostly it was photographs, wedding programs, and newspaper clippings about their marriage and about Bernie buying the island and building the cabin. He’d even pressed flowers from her bridal bouquet and a few from her funeral.

  Nothing pointed to her being a muse or supernatural at all, and there was definitely nothing about how to break the curse or kill the sirens.

  “My point is that there has to be something,” Gemma said.

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t get why there has to be anything,” Marcy reiterated.

  “Marcy, can you give it a rest with the negative commentary?” Daniel asked.

  “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I just really don’t understand,” Marcy said.

  “Penn, Lexi, and Thea ransacked this house looking for something.” Gemma turned to Daniel. “You remember that night back in June, when I ran off with the sirens? We came out here because they were out here. They killed Bernie, and they were tearing his house apart.”

  “You think they killed Bernie because they were trying to find Thalia’s notes or whatever?” Daniel asked.

  “Right. They believed that something was here,” Gemma said. “I think that’s
why they came to Capri in the first place. Looking for something in this house. And I’m not saying that it will break the curse, but it’s something they thought was important.”

  “Are you sure they haven’t already found it?” Marcy asked, setting Daniel’s book on the bed next to her.

  “I don’t think so.” Gemma furrowed her brow, trying to remember that night. “When I got here, they were still going through stuff. I think Thea was digging around in the kitchen. If they’d found what they were looking for, they wouldn’t have still been searching.”

  “But they left without it,” Daniel said. “And Penn’s been back to the island a few times, and she hasn’t looked for anything.”

  “Penn’s been back?” Gemma asked, and he immediately lowered his eyes and scratched the back of his head. “Like, to visit?”

  Daniel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not like I can just tell her to get lost.”

  “Actually, you can,” Gemma said.

  “Not if I want to keep the peace.” He looked at her then, his hazel eyes imploring her to understand. “We both do what we need to do to keep the people we care about safe. Right?”

  “Yeah but…” Gemma trailed off. “Does Harper know about this?”

  “Does Harper know about all the things you’re up to?” Daniel countered.

  Gemma sighed and stared up at the ceiling. Of course Harper didn’t know everything. In fact, Gemma knew about Penn’s interest in Daniel, and she’d specifically chosen not to tell her sister about it. She trusted him not to do anything to hurt Harper, and telling her sister would only make her worry.

  But Gemma hadn’t known that Penn was visiting him. That changed things. Gemma kept things from Harper that would only scare her—not things that could actually hurt her.

  “So … what’s going on with you and Penn?” Marcy asked.

  “Nothing.” Daniel shook his head. “She just has a crush on me or something, and I tolerate it because I don’t want to piss her off.”

  “Tolerate it how?” Marcy asked. “With sex?”

  “Marcy.” Daniel scoffed, but he lowered his eyes again.

  “Daniel,” Gemma said firmly, and moved so he’d have to look at her. “We made a deal, remember? We said we’d tell each other everything, so we could have each other’s backs.”

  “No, that wasn’t the deal.” He shook his head. “The deal was that you’d tell me everything so I could have your back. I can handle myself, but really, there’s nothing to handle.” He forced a smile. “Nothing’s going on.”

  “But if something is…” Gemma paused, choosing her words carefully. “If something happens. You can tell Harper. She’ll understand.”

  “I know,” Daniel said. “I do, and I will, if anything does happen. But right now, I can’t bother her. She’s got way too much on her plate, with school and all the siren stuff.”

  “Yeah, and don’t forget her roommate from hell,” Marcy added.

  Gemma turned back to Marcy, relieved by a break in the tension. “Oh, you mean Liv?”

  “Yeah.” Marcy tilted her head, looking confused. “I thought you said she was nice when you met her.”

  “She seemed nice enough,” Daniel agreed. “Kinda forgettable, I guess, since I don’t remember her that well.”

  “She’s a siren now, so she’s a bit more memorable,” Gemma said.

  “What?” Daniel asked.

  “She’s what?” Marcy asked, almost in unison with Daniel.

  “How long has she been a siren?” Daniel demanded. “You let Harper live with a siren?”

  “No, no.” Gemma shook her head and raised her hands defensively. “Liv hasn’t been a siren that long. A week, tops. But she moved out on Tuesday, and that’s when I found out she was a siren. So I haven’t told Harper.”

  “Why wouldn’t you tell Harper?” Daniel asked with mystified anger.

  “Because Liv was gone and out of her hair, and I didn’t want to worry Harper about there being another siren,” Gemma hurried to explain. “I thought I’d tell her this weekend, when she’s home, so I can make sure she doesn’t freak out.”

  “Well, you should have told her sooner,” Marcy said. “Liv was a total psycho. She like trashed the room and attacked Harper.”

  “What?” Gemma asked, and it was her turn to sound shocked. “When?”

  “What are you talking about?” Daniel asked.

  “I don’t know. I think … Tuesday or something?” Marcy shrugged. “You guys really need to talk to each other. This whole keeping-secrets thing is bullshit.”

  “I’m not trying to keep secrets,” Gemma said. “She’s already under so much stress, I just don’t want to add anything on top of it.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me about it?” Daniel asked no one in particular.

  “Probably for the same reason you haven’t told her about Penn’s visiting you,” Gemma said.

  Marcy sat up straighter, and her blank expression seemed to brighten. “I just realized that I’m the only one completely in the loop. I know everything that’s going on around here.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” Daniel said.

  “Wanna bet? Try me,” Marcy said.

  “Okay.” Daniel thought for a minute before asking, “Where are more papers from Thalia?”

  “I don’t know.” Marcy raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “In some secret hidden space.”

  “Thanks for illuminating that for us,” Gemma said dryly. “It’s really helpful.”

  “No really, what if there’s a secret space that’s not out in the open,” Marcy expounded on her earlier statement. “You bend a candlestick to the side, and a door pops open, or you move a book, and the bookcase twirls around to reveal a hidden chamber. That kinda thing.”

  Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “Since this is a one-bedroom cabin, and not a mansion, and every square foot is accounted for, I don’t think that’s an option.”

  “Then try under a loose floorboard or something,” Marcy suggested. “That’s where I hid all my personal items when I still lived at home with my parents.”

  “Are there loose floorboards?” Gemma looked up at Daniel.

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I guess we’ll look.”

  The three of them split up to search for loose floorboards or any kind of “secret” nook they might have missed in the house. Marcy attempted to take Daniel’s bedroom, but he shooed her out and suggested she try the living room.

  Gemma went into the bathroom and tried to peel back any loose tiles. She didn’t find anything, but she did manage to break a porcelain tile in half. She was on her hands and knees, looking for any loose boards in the kitchen, when she heard Marcy swear.

  “Did you find something?” Gemma asked, and she instantly got to her feet so she could look over the kitchen counter.

  “No.” Marcy was kneeling beside the couch and scowling at her fingers. “But I got a splinter trying to pull a board up.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything under there.” Daniel sighed. He came out of his bedroom and shook his head sadly. “I haven’t noticed anything loose or creaking, and I think this is a dead end. And you have to be at the theater soon for the play.”

  “Dammit.” She’d forgotten, and she dug her cell phone out of her pocket to check the time. “I have at least another ten minutes before I need to leave here. Let’s just keep looking.”

  Marcy stood up. “Is there anyplace we haven’t looked?”

  “I don’t know.” Daniel glanced around his living room.

  “What about that?” Marcy asked. She’d started sucking on her finger, presumably in an attempt to remove the splinter, but she pointed to the fireplace with her free hand.

  “What?” Gemma asked.

  “In the fireplace.” Marcy took her finger out of her mouth so she’d be easier to understand. “That stone’s a different shade of gray.”

  The whole fireplace was done up in large
river rocks. Most of them were varying shades of light to medium gray, smoothed and polished to look nice. But one stone near the end of the mantel was a very dark gray with a bluish tone to it.

  “Did you replace that stone or something?” Gemma asked Daniel, but she could already feel her heartbeat speeding up.

  “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head and walked over to the fireplace, with Gemma right at his heels.

  Slowly, almost gingerly, Daniel touched the stone. He started to wiggle it, and at first, nothing happened. Then he started pushing and pulling at it harder until it finally began to budge. As he started to slide the stone out, Gemma held her breath.

  “Here.” He handed it to her, then he reached into the dark hole left in the fireplace and began to dig around. “I found something.”

  “What is it?” Gemma asked.

  “I don’t know. I think…” He let his sentence trail off as he pulled out a small, leather-bound book. “It’s a book.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Gemma nearly dropped the stone trying to take it from him, but Daniel caught the rock and set it on the ground. He stood behind her, peering over her shoulder as she flipped through it.

  As soon as she saw the words, she knew. The small, delicate cursive matched the handwriting on the back of some of the pictures they’d gotten from Bernie’s house.

  “‘On June 16, 1961, I married my one true love, Bernard McAllister,’” Gemma read aloud. “This is it, you guys. This is Thalia’s journal.”

  “I told you I know everything,” Marcy said.

  “Does it say anything else?” Daniel asked. “Like anything about sirens?”

  “I don’t know.” Gemma flipped through the pages with trembling hands, scanning the faded ink on the yellowed pages. “It seems to be a lot of day-to-day stuff. Their garden. How much she loves Bernie.”

  Then Gemma flipped to the back, and her heart sank.

  The journal had been divided up into three sections—a calendar at the front, the journal pages in the middle, and a “notes” section in the back, for important information, like birthdays and addresses.