‘My sisters will be coming.’
‘Why are you so paranoid about your sisters? I still haven’t told you why I had to leave Seriphos.’
‘They’ve got wings,’ I blurted.
We’d been in such a confessional mode – so close, so cosy! – that the words spilled out before I considered the consequences.
‘Wings?’ he said.
‘Yep. My sisters have wings. They can … fly,’ I added, unnecessarily.
Perseus laughed. ‘Right. If you say so.’
‘I’m serious. They can!’
‘First they’re immortal, now this. I knew this island was weird.’
‘They might hurt you.’
‘Why would they hurt me?’
‘I did say you might not like this story.’
‘Can you fly?’ said Perseus.
I heard unease in his every word.
‘No, no. No. I’m … normal. I told you.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘I … Look, just go, Perseus. Go to your cave. I promise I’ll tell you more tomorrow. We made a promise, didn’t we?’
‘You’re not going to … hurt me, are you?’ he said. He sounded like a little boy.
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘Why ever would you think that?’
I like you, I wanted to say. I like you more than any human or god I’ve met in all my eighteen years.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know you won’t. It’s just … I’m alone here.’
‘You’re not alone. You’ve got me. Just keep out of their way, and you’ll be fine.’
‘Why have they got wings?’
I thought about the moment with Athena, back on the edge of Night. The snakes spurting out of my head as my sisters cowered on the floor, turning into Gorgons. To answer Perseus’s question would be to reveal more of myself than I ever had. I didn’t know if I could do it. ‘You’re not alone, Perseus,’ I said again. ‘I’m here.’
I don’t know why I did what I did next. It was so foolish, to reach around the rock to take his hand. But I did, and it felt amazing. Perseus froze, but I held on tight, as if it were a piece of magic that might protect us both.
And perhaps he didn’t know why he did what he did next – lifting my hand to his lips to kiss it, again and again. My fingers, my wrist, the soft inner skin of my lower arm. I closed my eyes and in my vision I saw his shadowy ship deck, the point of that sword. And I thought, What if my sisters come now? But they didn’t, because for once the gods were kind. So we stood either side of that rock, our hands a beacon in our private darkness, opening the windows of our souls.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He’s just a shadow at first, but he wants me to know he’s there. I’m out in the boat by the edge of Night, Argentus at my side, my sisters underneath me in the water, winnowing the seaweed for pearls to string my hair.
It’s him all right.
It’s always him, huge as forty whales.
‘Stheno? Euryale?’ I call for my sisters, but all I hear is silence.
His shadow surges, the shape of him swells beneath my bobbing skiff.
Poseidon. Father of the sea, beneath the surface, watching.
Every last hair on Argentus’s wiry back springs up in fear. He’s rocking the boat, jumping from side to side as Poseidon glides, a threatening bulk of god, a terror in my bones. Dark stain in the water – what does he want? Why won’t he go away?
Argentus tries to cover me, guarding my crouched body – but it isn’t enough. When Poseidon wants something, it’s never enough. The air turns still, as if Poseidon’s put the day on hold.
‘Look at me,’ he says.
That awful, sea-blasted voice. The rasp of a shark fin up your spine, sucking the last breath of air.
But I will not look. I will not breathe his breath.
‘Do you disobey, Medusa?’ he booms.
He knows my name. How does he know my name? In my terror I’ve lost all reason. But of course: he’s the father of the sea; there’s no way a fourteen-year-old girl is going to outwit him.
‘Medusa – last warning,’ he says.
Still I refuse to look up. It’s the only dominion I can claim. Some might say it’s a mistake, but I don’t care. Just because a god tells you to look at them, doesn’t mean you have to.
A rushing sound, and I turn my head in the other direction. Oh, Hades. A huge wave hurling towards me – call it a tsunami, call it a wall of water, you can also call it certain death. Opposite, the other horror. Poseidon, his chest a rock face, his belly like whale blubber, those blazing eyes, black oceans where not even a shark would dare to swim. I’m stuck between two nightmares.
‘Do you want to die, Medusa?’ the sea-god howls. ‘Do you want your dog to die?’
‘No!’
‘Shall I stop the wave, Medusa?’
‘Yes!’
‘Then promise me anything I want.’
I turn once more to the tsunami: the sky has disappeared behind its might. How can the sky disappear? Anything’s possible when a god’s in a rage.
Water coming like a mountain. Fish everywhere, mermaids howling in pain as they tumble. Poseidon’s power breaks their backs, their perfect fins sacrificed to his momentum. Argentus, scrabbling in the boat, desperate to jump and terrified to do so. We’re going to die, I know it.
‘I promise!’ I scream above the babel.
‘ANYTHING?’ Poseidon screams back.
‘ANYTHING!’
And just like that: the storm drops. I’m not dead. But all is silent.
What did I do wrong?
Nothing, Medusa, I want to tell my fourteen-year-old self. Look at me.
She doesn’t want to look. She’s scared.
Look at me: I’m not afraid to look at you! Listen to me. Medusa, are you listening?
‘What did I do wrong?’ I cried into the darkness of a cave, waking in a cold sweat, writhing and screaming on the floor. By my side, Stheno held my arm, shaking me awake. ‘My darling, are you all right?’ she was saying. ‘Medusa, are you listening? A bad dream. You didn’t do anything wrong. You did absolutely nothing wrong.’
‘Where am I?’ I said, just as I remembered – that I was not fourteen any more, I was eighteen. And that old life – Poseidon, the boat, the edge of Night – was a life long gone.
By the pale blue glow coming in through the cave mouth I knew it was nearly dawn.
‘Him again?’ my sister asked quietly.
‘Him.’
‘It’s over now.’
Then why am I still dreaming about the promise I made? I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t, because I knew that Stheno would not have the answer. She held me tight as I wept into her side, my warmest sister who loved me like a mother.
You see, remembering’s a blessing and a curse. You can’t erase your bad memories, but a life without regrets is a life unlived. What you remember and how you remember: it makes you who you are. Maybe you have a choice about that, maybe you don’t. But if I could wipe the vision of Poseidon, god of the sea, rising from the water, blocking the light of the stars, covering my skin with cold air, scrutiny and fear – then I absolutely would.
‘We should stay with you today,’ said Stheno, as the first rays of sun spanned over the horizon.
I thought of Perseus. I burned to be near him, even from the other side of a rock. I believed that being close to such a golden person would cocoon me in a greater warmth than the sun itself. How could I explain to my sisters that he was different? That he and I were friends, with all the things we had in common? I needed to find out why Perseus was here; I wanted to tell him why I was here. I felt sure our fates were intertwined.
‘No need,’ I said to my sister, putting brightness in my voice. ‘I’ve got Argentus with me, and we need to eat.’
Euryale flew over to kneel at my side. ‘Medusa,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t let your dreams bother you. We know that it’s hard sometimes, but—’
‘Euryale, you have absolutely zero idea of what it’s like. You think what happened to us is some kind of game.’
‘Life is a game, Med,’ Euryale replied. ‘And you can play it.’
‘Oh, can I?’ I said. ‘Well, I don’t like the rules. In fact, it seems to me that there are no rules, because otherwise life would be fair.’