“Considering there can never be more than four sirens in existence at any given time?” Lydia asked. “I’d guess there’s only one copy.”
Gemma sighed. “And you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”
“No, I don’t. But I can make a guess who does.” Lydia smiled brightly. “Them.”
“You think the sirens have it?” Harper asked.
“Of course. My understanding is that the sirens are relatively hard to kill. They wouldn’t want the instructions on how to destroy them just floating around. I’m sure the head siren has it.”
“But they’re partially aquatic,” Gemma pointed out. “They move through the water. How could they carry paper with them without it being destroyed?”
“It’s ‘magic paper,’ remember?” Lydia said. “It’s been granted properties that make it indestructible—meaning it can’t be destroyed, not by water or fire or nuclear holocaust.”
“Have you seen Penn with any kind of book?” Harper asked Gemma.
“No, I don’t think so.” Gemma furrowed her brow. “When I moved with them before, Lexi carried a large bag with her, but I never saw what was inside it.”
“It’s probably not a book,” Lydia said. “I mean, the sirens are from Greece? Talking the second or third century? I’m thinking you’re looking for a scroll, probably made from papyrus.”
“So what you’re saying is that we need to find a scroll made of magic papyrus, written in ancient Greek, that may or may not be in the possession of a bloodthirsty siren that does not want us to find it?” Harper asked dryly.
“I never said bloodthirsty. Are they bloodthirsty?” This seemed to excite Lydia, for some reason. “Wow. That’s crazy. I always thought sirens would be nice.”
“They’re not,” Harper said.
“Even if we do find it, there might not be a way to break the curse,” Gemma pointed out. “Like the vampire curse, there’s no way out except death.”
“That’s true. That is a possibility,” Lydia said.
“What if we destroyed the scroll? Would that undo the curse?” Harper asked.
“Theoretically, yes,” Lydia said cautiously. “But you won’t be able to.”
“I can try,” Harper insisted.
“Yes, you can try,” Lydia agreed with some reluctance. “But many people have tried over the last … well, since the beginning of time. And almost nobody ever has.”
“Almost nobody,” Harper said. “So somebody has?”
“There’re always exceptions to the rule,” Lydia said. “But I have no idea how they did it, or how you can destroy this one.”
“Is there anything more you can tell us about the sirens?” Gemma asked.
“Not offhand, no. But I’ll keep my eyes open for anything,” Lydia said.
“Thanks, Lydia,” Marcy said. “You’ve been a big help.”
“Yes, thank you very much.” Harper smiled gratefully at her. “We really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” She smiled. “Stop by anytime. Any of you.”
“Thanks,” Gemma said, but she sounded much more deflated than she had before they arrived.
“Oh, hey, Marcy,” Lydia said as she walked them to the door. “If your uncle gets any more pictures of the Loch Ness Monster, be sure to send them my way.”
“I will,” Marcy promised, and then they stepped outside.
After the darkness of the shop, the sunlight felt almost too bright. The heat was also a bit shocking. Harper hadn’t realized how cold it had been inside the bookstore until she felt the warmth outside.
“How do you know Lydia?” Harper asked Marcy.
Marcy shrugged. “I just know people.”
Once they were in the car, Harper let out a long breath. She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt after that visit, but at least they had a course of action. They were looking for something specific. They could find it. They could solve the curse. Ending this whole siren business felt like a real possibility for the first time in a while.
“That went pretty good, I think,” Harper said.
“I guess,” Gemma said from the backseat, but she sounded awfully sullen.
“Is something the matter?” Harper turned around to look at her.
“No, everything’s fine. The watersong is getting to me, I think,” Gemma said, but she just stared vacantly out the window.
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.