“No, of course not,” Thea said. “Penn’s always hated Demeter, from the very moment she appointed us handmaidens to her daughter Persephone. But initially, Penn and Demeter and the other gods lived in peace. It wasn’t until hundreds of years later, after we’d been exiled from Greece along with the other immortals at the end of the Dark Ages, that Penn even considered killing Demeter.”
“Why were you exiled?” Gemma asked.
“‘Exiled’ isn’t exactly the right term, but that’s how it felt,” Thea clarified. “Humans just started getting wise to us. They were fearful or jealous, and they began killing gods and immortals. So it was just safer for all of us to start living underground, hiding our true selves.”
“And that pissed Penn off,” Gemma guessed.
Thea nodded. “Penn never wants to hide or control her whims, so she hated Demeter even though it wasn’t her fault the world was changing. We’d begun looking for Demeter, but we weren’t that serious. Penn loved being a siren.
“When the mood struck her, she’d ask around, but she usually got distracted before we got too far into looking for Demeter. So we had a few centuries of half-assed attempts at finding the hidden goddess between long strings of debauchery.” Thea paused. “And then Penn got sidetracked with Bastian.”
“Until he disappeared,” Gemma said.
“Exactly. But Penn was going batshit, killing everything that crossed her. Humans, gods, anyone that Penn felt like,” Thea said. “That’s when Penn really threw herself into finding Demeter, doing everything she could in unrelenting pursuit, but Demeter had gotten wind of Penn’s rampage. So she burrowed deep underground, and she hasn’t been seen in centuries.”
“Are you sure she’s even still alive?” Gemma asked.
Thea shrugged. “Clio told us she was.”
“Clio?”
“She was a muse we found a little over fifty years ago. Our aunt, technically,” Thea said. “But we’d never had a very strong familial bond with our own mothers, let alone any of their sisters. The muses wanted little to do with their children for the most part, and Clio was no exception.”
“Well, then how do you even know she was telling you the truth?” Gemma asked.
“We asked her at first, but then Penn tortured her to be certain,” Thea explained. “Unfortunately, she didn’t know where Demeter was, so Penn killed her.”
“You tortured and murdered her?” Gemma asked. “That seems pretty extreme.”
“Penn was desperate to know where Demeter is,” Thea said. “We would’ve gone to our own mothers, but they were long since dead. We’ve been scouring the earth since the 1700s, looking for muses who might know anything, but we’ve mostly only found their corpses. Clio was only the second muse we’d encountered alive in the past five hundred years.”
That explained what made Thalia so spooked in the journal. When she’d first met Bernie, she’d never mentioned the sirens at all. And then, suddenly, she’d become frightened and paranoid.
Thalia had briefly mentioned something, saying that she’d lost an old friend, but she hadn’t named the friend. She’d probably gotten word of her sister Clio’s murder at the sirens’ hands and assumed, rightly, that they were going to come after her next.
“So you came to Capri looking for Demeter,” Gemma said. Thanks to Thalia’s diary, she had already put most of the pieces together. But she hoped Thea would fill in the blanks.
“No, we came looking for another muse,” Thea said. “The very last one, and she was said to be here in Capri.”
“But she was already dead,” Gemma said.
Thea nodded bitterly. “That was our last hope.”
“What do you mean?” Gemma asked
“There aren’t many of us left. All the big immortals are long gone—Zeus, Aries, Medusa, Athena, you name it. They’re either dead or in hiding. Hades is around, but he hasn’t talked to anyone since … right after we became sirens. He doesn’t know anything.”
“Since everyone’s gone, you have nowhere else to look. No clues on how to find Demeter,” Gemma said, hoping she didn’t sound as disappointed as she felt. While she was happy that Penn had been unable to find a muse, Gemma had been hoping for some clue, some hint at anything that could help her.
“No.” Thea shook her head. “That’s why I told you the scroll is useless. Aggie tried everything to break the curse. And there are no more gods or goddess to help reverse it. We’re alone.”
“Is that why you gave me the scroll?” Gemma asked. “Because you didn’t think I’d be able to do anything?”
“No. I’ve just come to realize that my sister Aggie was right. We’ve had our time on this earth, and we’ve had more than our fair share of death.” Thea let out a deep breath and stared emptily at the wall. “But it seems my change of heart is just too little, too late.”
TWENTY-ONE
Lineage
It was the first time that Harper had gone to visit Lydia without someone calling ahead, and she felt strangely intrusive as she pushed open the door to Cherry Lane Books. Of course, that didn’t make sense since it was a bookstore, and people were free to come and go as long as the OPEN sign was up.
In fact, this was about the least intrusive she’d been since it was only the second time she’d come here when the store was actually open. That meant that there were customers here this time, including a girl from Harper’s biology class who was perusing the bestseller section.
Harper was starting to think that this might not be the best time. The things she wanted to talk about with Lydia wouldn’t be good with an audience.
Unfortunately, the bell chimed whenever anyone opened the door, and it must’ve alerted Lydia. She appeared around an aisle from the back of the store before Harper could back out.
“Oh, hey there.” Lydia smiled and appeared genuinely happy to see her. “I’m glad you came by because I wanted to show you something.”
Then Lydia turned toward the store and, speaking loudly so her small voice would carry, she said, “Attention, everyone. I need to run downstairs to my office for a few minutes. If you need anything, push the buzzer by the cash register at the front desk, and I’ll be up in a jiff. Okay?”
Her customers murmured agreement and understanding, so Lydia turned back to Harper, grinning. Lydia’s outfit seemed a bit more sedate today, just a pair of skinny jeans and a purple tank top, but she wore glittery pink lip gloss that sparkled when she smiled.
“Shall we?” Lydia asked, but before Harper could reply, she started escorting her to the back of the store.
They went down the most dimly lit aisle of the store, where Lydia kept tarot cards, sensing stones, and all the really old books. And it wasn’t like first editions of Charles Dickens old. Harper had once discovered one that appeared to be written in ancient Sumerian, but many of them were nearly falling apart from age.
Past that, in the back corner, Lydia pushed open a door that seemed too heavy for her. The wood had a marble grain unlike anything Harper had seen before, and as she walked past it, she ran her fingers along the glossy surface. It felt smooth and cool, like glass, under her fingertips.
“It’s snakewood,” Lydia said when she noticed Harper admiring the door. “It helps keep intruders out.”
On the other side of the door was a small landing in front of a narrow concrete staircase. Lydia seemed to be struggling with the door, so Harper helped her push it closed, and it surprised her just how heavy it truly was.
“This is where I keep all the really old books,” Lydia explained as she led the way down the steps.
“As opposed to those brand-new ones we just walked by?” Harper asked.
Lydia laughed, the tinkling sound echoing in the small space of the stairwell. “Well, the really
