Give it back. Let it go. He wants you to want this, a voice inside her urged. But the talisman had stoked an insatiable hunger in her. Instead of returning the pearl to Orfeo, Astrid started to close her hand around it, craving to hold it even closer.
Orfeo clucked his tongue and took it from her before she could. “Too much, too soon,” he said, refastening it around his neck.
Astrid felt the pearl’s loss keenly. But as the trance of omnipotence faded, her disgust grew. You had it in your hands! she chastised herself. You could have taken it! Isn’t that what you came here to do?
Astrid knew, though, just as she had when she’d first arrived at Shadow Manse, that even if she’d taken the pearl, she couldn’t have escaped with it. She wouldn’t have made it out of the conservatory, never mind the palace.
She’d have to find another way to get it. And another time.
“Astrid, when you arrived, you asked me why I summoned you here. I told you I wanted to heal you, but that was only part of the reason.”
Her fins flared. She was finally going to get her answer. “And the rest?”
“I want to educate you. I want you to start learning the songspells I’ve collected,” Orfeo replied. He nodded at the shelves. “Choose a conch, child; listen to the spell, then sing it.”
“Why, Orfeo?”
Instead of answering, he walked to a large desk in the middle of the room and from a drawer took out the most beautiful piece of jewelry Astrid had ever seen. It was a bib necklace made of row after row of small, perfect white pearls. Too many to count.
“This belonged to Alma, my beloved wife.” He held the necklace out to her. “I gave many pieces of her jewelry to a very helpful…” He hesitated slightly, then said, “…friend.”
Morsa, Astrid thought. A vitrina in the ruins of Atlantis had told Sera that Orfeo had courted the goddess, and Sera had told Astrid.
“But this necklace was not meant for her,” Orfeo continued. “It was meant for you.”
Astrid shook her head. “I can’t take it.”
Alma had lived thousands of years ago. Her necklace was ancient and priceless.
“I want you to have it. I hunted for it for a long time in the ruins of Atlantis. It was a wedding present to Alma from her parents,” Orfeo explained. “According to Atlantean custom, the pearls symbolize the children the bride and groom will have, and the children those children will have, and so on, continuing a family’s line into eternity. I know how happy it would make Alma if you were to accept the necklace. You are our eternity, Astrid…Alma’s and mine.”
Before Astrid could object, he fastened the piece around her neck. “Go look in the glass,” he said, pointing to the mirror standing in the corner.
Astrid swam over and gazed at her reflection, marveling at how gorgeous the necklace was. Shyly, she touched it.
“You resemble her,” Orfeo said wistfully. “And the children we had.”
“What was she like?” Astrid asked, swimming back to him.
“Beautiful, both inside and out. Kind. Good. Gentle.”
“I wish I could have known her.”
As she spoke, Orfeo’s expression grew darker. Although she couldn’t see his eyes behind his glasses, she had the distinct feeling that they were focused on something far away. Something only he could see.
“One day, you will know her. One day Abbadon will tear down the gates to the underworld and then I’ll take Alma back.”
The name Abbadon hit Astrid like a hard slap. He’s getting to you. He’s winning you over, just as Sera said he would. Fight it!
“The monster must be very powerful to be able to do such a thing,” she said, determined to find out as much as she could about their foe, and not let her friends down.
“The monster is beyond powerful,” said Orfeo.
“And yet he was defeated by your fellow mages,” Astrid ventured, hoping to keep him talking. “He was caged on Atlantis.”
“Defeated?” Orfeo echoed contemptuously. “Hardly. Abbadon went into the Carceron because I told it to.”
“What?” Astrid said, stunned. “I thought Merrow and the other mages drove the monster into the prison.”
“They believed they did. Which is exactly what I wanted.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“Abbadon was my greatest creation. I used everything I had—my magic, my learning—to conjure it. I needed it to march on the underworld,” Orfeo explained. “I knew the other mages would try to stop me, even if it meant killing me. I didn’t care about my own survival—I’d learned how to cheat death—but I had to ensure Abbadon’s. I had to protect it.”
Astrid’s pulse quickened. Did the monster have a weakness? She had to find out what it was. But she’d have to proceed carefully.
“How?” she asked lightly.
“By creating a refuge for it,” he replied. “A place where it could sleep, but not die, in case my plans failed. When I was nearly ready to unleash it, I changed the Carceron’s lock. It had been created to accommodate my old talisman—Eveksion’s emerald. One night, I altered it to accept my new talisman—the black pearl. But the other mages soon discovered what I’d done, and—”