Tidal (11 page)

ELEVEN

1741, Marseilles

In the mansion in the south of France, Thea lay in bed long after her handmaidens had come in and opened her curtains. Sunlight spilled in through the large windows of her bedroom, but she lay curled among the blankets.

“Thea?” Aggie asked, and without waiting for a response, she threw open the large bedroom doors, causing them to slam against the wall.

Thea ignored her sister and pulled the covers over her head, burying herself.

“Thea, you’ve been in bed all day, and you stayed in bed all day the day before that, and the day before that,” Aggie said.

The bed moved as Aggie climbed into it, crawling over to where Thea lay in the center, and she pulled back the covers. Aggie stared down at her, her warm chestnut eyes filled with concern, and she sighed loudly.

Aggie was fully dressed in a luscious pink gown adorned with lace and fabric shaped into flowers. Despite her attire, she hadn’t put on a wig, so her long brown waves cascaded down to her shoulders.

“Are you sick?” Aggie asked.

“Of course I’m not sick,” Thea said with a voice like silk. She rolled onto her back so she could stare up at the ceiling instead of at her sister. “We’re incapable of falling ill.”

“Then why are you lying in bed all day?” Aggie asked. “There must be something the matter with you.”

Thea didn’t have a very good answer for that. For the past five weeks they’d been living with a duke in the south of France. Everyone assumed that Thea and the other three sirens were his courtesans, and they let them think that. It was easier than explaining what they really were.

Since they’d come here, Thea had slowly begun to lose interest in all the things she used to love doing. Even swimming with her sisters was losing its appeal. The only thing she really wanted to do anymore was lie in her bed.

“It doesn’t really matter what’s going on with you,” Aggie decided and scooted back on the bed so she could get up. “Penn and Gia went to town today, and they’ve brought a guest over for dinner. You need to get dressed and come down to eat with us.”

“I’m not hungry,” Thea said.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re hungry or not.” Aggie walked over to Thea’s wardrobe and looked through it. “Penn made it perfectly clear that this wasn’t a question. She wants to impress him.”

“Since when does she try to impress men?” Thea asked as she grudgingly sat up. “And don’t we already have enough men here to entertain her?”

The duke shared the house with his two brothers, and that alone should’ve been enough for Penn. That didn’t include all the servants and friends of the duke who were constantly visiting his home on the edge of the Mediterranean.

“No, it’s not a mortal,” Aggie said as she pulled a gown from the wardrobe. “He goes by Bastian now, I believe, but he used to be called Orpheus.”

Thea grimaced. “
Orpheus?
The musician? Isn’t he supposed to be our nemesis? That’s what Homer wrote, wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps. Homer wrote many things that weren’t true.” Aggie carried the dress and laid it out on the bed. “Now come. You need to hurry. Penn will be angry if you keep them waiting.”

“Why does she even care about this man?” Thea asked, but she did as she was told, slowly sliding to the edge of the bed so she could stand.

“She thought he might know where Father is,” Aggie explained.

“Nobody’s ever going to tell us where Father is,” Thea mumbled as she pulled her nightgown over her head. “And how does she even know who this Orpheus person is if he’s going by the name Bastian?”

Aggie held the dress open for her, and Thea stepped inside of it. She pulled it up, slipping her arms through the sleeves. Once it was on, she turned around and held her red hair out of the way so Aggie could begin lacing it up.

“She recognized him,” Aggie said. “We’ve met him before. It was many years ago, back when we still lived in Greece.”

“So it was
many
,
many
years ago,” Thea said.

It had to have been at least a thousand years since they’d last lived in Greece. Immortals such as themselves had lived somewhat happily there for a while, but eventually they’d come to feel unwelcome, and they had dispersed all over the world.

“You must remember meeting him.” Aggie tightened the waist, causing Thea to exhale roughly. “We went to a performance of his where he played the harp and sang the most beautiful song.”

Thea shook her head. “I can’t remember. Most of our lives have become a blur of random men, and it’s hard to isolate one.”

Aggie had finished, and she took Thea by the shoulders, forcing her to turn around and face her.

“What is going on with you?” Aggie asked.

“Nothing.” Thea smiled thinly at her. “Everything is wonderful.”

“You’re lying. And we will talk about it later, but for now, you need to pretend that everything really is wonderful,” Aggie said. “For whatever reason, Penn wants to impress this Bastian, and you need to be at your best.”

“I will do everything I can,” Thea assured her.

Aggie led the way down to the parlor room. As they walked through the halls, servants scattered. All of them lived in fear of the sirens, and that was as it should be. Only the duke and his friends seemed oblivious to their true nature, but that was as Penn wanted it. She kept her siren song focused on them, so they would give freely to her.

Before they even reached the parlor, Thea could hear Penn laughing. It wasn’t the seductive laugh she used to get what she wanted, which seemed to be the only laugh she was capable of around men. This was her actual laugh.

Gia, the fair-haired Ligeia, sat on a chair, watching Penn and Bastian with bemused interest. Penn stood nearby, her hand to her chest as she smiled and stared up at him. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, and there was a lightness in them that Thea had never seen before.

When she came into the room, Bastian had his back to her. She was surprised to see that he wasn’t wearing a wig. The sirens themselves rarely wore the powdered wigs, finding them itchy and unnecessary, but most other people of standing insisted upon them.

“And the farmer kept insisting that I pay for the chicken,” Bastian was saying, and Penn laughed again. “But after all that, there wasn’t a chance that I would pay a single denier for it.”

Gia giggled but without the same fervor as Penn, who was apparently so interested in Bastian’s story that she didn’t notice her sisters entering the room. In fact, she didn’t see them until they had walked over and were almost standing directly behind Bastian.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Bastian, my sisters have arrived,” Penn said as she pulled her eyes from him and motioned to Aggie and Thea. “You recall Aggie and Thea, don’t you? Though they went by Aglaope and Thelxiepeia back then.”

He turned around, finally looked back at them. The second she saw him, it all came back to Thea.

Hundreds of years ago, she’d seen him perform. It had been in a great stadium, and Thea had been seated near the back with her sisters. Penn had seemed bored, too busy flirting with the gentleman in front of her to pay attention to the man onstage.

But Thea had been unable to take her eyes off him. The songs he played were the most beautiful she’d ever heard, and she spent most of her days listening to Gia sing—Gia, whose voice and song were so lovely and powerful she could enchant any living creature into doing her bidding.

After his performance, it had been Thea who insisted they speak to him. She’d dragged her sisters through the crowds until they finally found him. They spoke only a few words, mostly because Thea was too tongue-tied to find the right words, and then he’d walked away, leaving with his wife.

That memory had almost escaped her until she met his blue eyes, and then it all came flooding back. Somehow, he seemed even more handsome than she remembered him. Dark black hair, broad shoulders, and a smile so amazing, it took all the air from her lungs.

While Bastian greeted Aggie, Thea did her best to keep her composure. She smiled politely to keep her mouth from hanging agape.

“Thea,” Bastian said when he turned to her. He took her hand, and she desperately hoped that he couldn’t tell she was trembling. He bent down, kissing her hand as she did a small curtsy, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

“I believe I do recall you,” Bastian said, once he’d let go of her and stood back up. He smiled crookedly, creating a small dimple in his smooth skin. “You enjoyed my performance.”

“Bastian, everybody enjoyed your performance,” Penn said with a light laugh.

“That is true,” he admitted and turned back to her.

“I’m sure dinner is ready by now,” Penn said. “Shall we go down?” She wrapped her arm around his, so he’d escort her to the dining hall.

Thea lagged a few moments behind, preferring to walk with Aggie and Gia. She didn’t know exactly what was going on, but one thing she knew for certain—she had a very big problem.

TWELVE

Bonds

After rehearsal, they’d had their first rough fittings. The play was set during the Italian Renaissance, so the costumes were elegant and elaborate, especially since the director, Tom, required perfection and authenticity.

Gemma had gone down into the dressing rooms, where the costume maker had her try on a muslin gown for fit and structure. Once she’d had it on and measurements had been double-checked, she’d been allowed to change back into her street clothes and go home, but she lingered behind.

Throughout the theater’s restoration, the dressing rooms had mostly remained untouched. They were small brick boxes shoved in the basement. They’d been painted white to brighten them up, but the paint was chipped and peeling.

The hallway outside the dressing rooms wasn’t much better. It hadn’t been painted at all, and the ceiling had exposed pipes and ventilation. All four of the dressing rooms had stars on the doors, painted with names of famous movie stars, like
MARILYN
and
ERROL,
for ambience.

But that wasn’t what had Gemma meandering in the hall. She’d been the last one to have a fitting, so she was alone in the basement, admiring the photographs that lined the walls. All of them were black-and-white eight-by-tens and they had been taken either during the Paramount original heyday or shortly after it had reopened.

The one that Gemma had stopped in front of was of her mother. It had been taken years ago, before either Gemma or Harper had been born, maybe even before Nathalie had married Brian.

Nathalie was standing just to the side of the stage, holding a bouquet of roses. She wasn’t looking at the camera; rather, she was staring at something just to the right of her. Her long hair was pushed to one side, and she had a crooked smile that somehow looked beautiful.

Based on her outfit, Gemma guessed that Nathalie had been playing Blanche in
A Streetcar Named Desire
. It had been a simple blue dress that ended up torn by the end of the play, but Nathalie had really loved her performance in it, so she’d kept the dress for years.

“There you are,” Kirby said, and Gemma glanced over to see him walking down the hall toward her. “I’ve been waiting upstairs for you to come up, but you never did.”

“I got a little sidetracked,” Gemma said, and she pointed to the photograph in front of her. “That’s my mom.”

It took a few seconds for Kirby to pull his gaze away from her and look over at the picture. When he finally did, he nodded his approval.

“She’s pretty,” he said, but Gemma hadn’t expected a different answer. Her mother was tall and elegant, with beautiful eyes and a serene smile.

“She was a very talented actress, too,” Gemma said.

“Like, professionally?” Kirby asked. “Was she on television or movies?”

“No, she was an accountant.” Gemma laughed at the juxtaposition. “But in another life, she would’ve been a model or an actress. She decided to have kids and get married instead.”

“That sucks,” Kirby said, and Gemma shot him a glare. He immediately looked down, his blue eyes wounded and apologetic.

“That does not suck,” Gemma corrected him before turning back to the picture. “She loved my dad, and she loved my sister and me. She chose to be with us because we made her happier.”

“Oh.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and braved looking up at her again. “Did she die or something?”

“
Or something
,” she said quietly. “She was in an accident nine years ago. She’s still alive, but it’s not the same.”

“I’m sorry,” Kirby said, and it sounded like he really meant it. He reached out to touch Gemma’s shoulder, and she didn’t brush away the gesture.

“I went to see her the other day, and I tried to tell her that I was in a play,” Gemma said. “The last time I acted was when my kindergarten class did
Three Billy Goats Gruff.
I remember my mom being so excited back then.”

She was surprised to feel tears swimming in her eyes, and sniffled to keep them back. Kirby had let his hand fall, but he stayed close to her, in case she might need him for comfort. But the truth was, she barely even noticed that he was still there.

“I thought she might get excited again,” Gemma went on. “Mom always had such a light in her eyes when she talked about the plays she was in. But when I told her, she didn’t even know what I meant.

“She used to walk around the house reciting Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller.” Gemma let out a deep breath and shook her head. “But now she didn’t know what I was talking about, and she didn’t care.”

Then, in a small whisper, she added, “She barely even remembers me.”

“Hey, come on.” Kirby tried to put his arm around her, but she stepped away from him.

“Sorry.” Gemma wiped at her eyes and forced a smile. “You don’t need to see me like this.”

“I don’t mind.” Kirby smiled at her. “Why don’t we get out of this dank basement? I’ll give you a ride home.”

“Kirby, no, that’s okay.” Gemma shook her head. “You don’t need to do that.”

Yesterday, while she’d been with her sister and Marcy trying to figure out how to break the sirens’ curse at the bookstore, Kirby had been calling and texting her. She’d turned her phone off so she could focus, but when she finally turned it on, she saw that she had six new texts and two missed calls.