Fire & Flood (Mythverse #1)

Book 2 Chapter 23

23

It’s a trick, I know. A monster—maybe a selkie—sent in my sister’s skin to confuse me. As soon as I go to her, I’ll be pulled under the waves and drowned.

I don’t care. I’m willing to take the chance.

I rush into her arms and suddenly we’re both crying, her hands going up and down my back as she assesses the new Edie—taller, stronger—and I take in her familiar scent, something I’ve never been able to pin down. Fur and old books, maybe. It’s so particular to Mavis that I know it’s my sister, not some imposter, and my tears start fresh.

Mavis is alive.

She leads me away from the beach to a cliffside cave where there’s a sleeping bag and supplies.

I wipe my face. “Is this where you’ve been the entire time?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s a long story.”

We sit on the sleeping bag and she pulls a cooking pot out of a pile to heat up some canned soup. It’s not until she passes me a bowl of the steaming mixture, I realize how hungry I am. I gulp it down, then start to cry again, my face a wet soggy mess.

“I found Mom.” I start. “She didn’t know who I was.”

“I know,” Mavis tells me, wiping my face with a towel.

I hiccup. “And she’s not our bio mom.”

“I know that too,” she tells me softly.

“And the Greek gods are real and also I’m a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Mavis barks out a laugh. “Seriously? Wow, Edie. You certainly beat me out in that arena. I’m a freaking housecat.”

Wait. What? I swallow and really look at my sister, her face suddenly new and different to me in the firelight.

“You’re a shifter too?”

I’m realizing as little as I knew about my parents, I might have known even less about my sister. Resentment rises up in my chest, but I push it down.

Mavis, my Mavis, is sitting in front of me.

I want to crumble then. I want her to stroke my hair and tell me it’ll be okay. But that was never Mavis’ style—that was all Mom. A Mom who wasn’t actually my mom and doesn’t remember me now.

“Mavis, please, tell me what happened. How you’re involved in all this. I need to understand.”

She turns to fiddle with the fire before answering and I wonder if she’s as scared as me.

Such a thought would never have occurred to me before. I’d always believed Mavis could fix anything, beat anyone, and look good doing it.

But right now, my sister looks unsure. Maybe even scared.

“I never went away to college,” she tells me at last. “I went to Mount Olympus Academy instead.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Dad said you were too young. He was keeping us safe.”

“Dad would never tell you and not me!” The words burst out of me, unchecked.

Mom and Mavis were always out running around, doing their own thing, while Dad sat with me at home, signing off piles on detentions, while I sucked on my inhaler.

“Edie, he was going to tell you when you were eighteen.” Mavis uses her calm big sister tone that always set my teeth on edge. “Dad wanted us to have a normal life right up until we were ready for the adult world.”

“Or the magical world,” I add, shaking my head. “So it’s our call? Go to college and become an engineer or go to the Academy and become a dragon? What sort of choice is that? If our parents—if you—were honest with me, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out so shitty.”

“Edie!” There’s a clear reprimand in her voice. “Hear me out before you start spouting off as usual. There’s a lot I need to tell you, and I need to know you can handle it.”

“Seriously?” Sniffing, I scrub my sleeve across my runny nose. “Do you always have to do the big sister thing?” Yesterday I would have begged to have Mavis ‘big sister’ me. Now…it feels like she’s patronizing me.

Reaching into her supply bag she hands me a travel pick of tissues. I snatch it away before she can hold one to my nose and tell me to blow.

“Edie, I am your big sister.”

“What does that even mean anymore? I’m not the sickly little girl you left behind. I’ve survived losing dad, I thought I lost you too. I’ve fought. I’ve,” I pause but continue, “I’ve killed.”

“Oh Edie,” she says, softly. Pitying.

She’s using her big sister voice. The one that always sets my teeth on edge. The one that clearly communicates, we are not peers—you are my underling. I can’t even count how many fights started with Mavis using that tone. But there’s also sympathy in Mavis’ face. Fire roils in my belly, wanting to melt it away. The joyful reunion I dreamed of having with my sister is going up in smoke.

I thought if I could just get my family back, everything would be okay. But it’s not. Mavis is not going to swoop in and save the day. And I don’t want her to. I’ve learned how to save myself.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not angry.

Angry at Dad for trusting Mavis with the secret and not me.

Angry at Mom for not knowing who I am after everything I’ve been through to find her.

Angry at Mavis for being so calm and collected, even when everything I thought was true has been turned upside down—again.

And I can already tell the internal earthquakes aren’t ending anytime soon.

Why can’t any piece of my life stay locked down in the same place?

After a year of wanting to speak with Mavis, now I don’t want to hear what she has to say.

But I have to. Dad isn’t going to wander into this cave and demand to know what we’re bickering about now. Mom isn’t going to make her cheesy, “Oh, I thought it was World War III, but it’s just you girls fighting again,” joke.

I let out a shuddering breath. “Fine. Continue.”

Mavis frowns slightly. As if she hadn’t expected that response. Or as if she’d wanted to goad me into a fight.

Maybe this conversation is as difficult for her as it is for me.

“I learned a lot when I came to the Academy,” Mavis says. “Some of it was exactly what I expected, but there were other things…things that didn’t quite fit. I started asking questions. And…” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “As a housecat, it’s quite easy to eavesdrop. I overheard a lot of things not meant for my ears.”

Of course she did. That’s Mavis. Nancy Drew, complete with a fluffy tail.

“I heard things that contradicted what I’d been taught. I heard things that made me realize I had to do something. I had to help them.”

“Help who?” I ask.

“The monsters.”

“What?!” I shoot to my feet, my head spinning, the food in my stomach flash-frying a second time as a burst of fire wells up inside me. She couldn’t have said—but she did. Mavis was helping the monsters.

“Edie,” Mavis says softly, looking up at me, is that a hint of fear in her eyes? “Most of the time I was at the Academy I was working for the monsters. I used what I learned in spy class for them—as a double agent. Ocypete was my contact and my code name was…Emmie.”

“Emmie?!”

Oh. My. Gods.

I stumble back. I can’t help it; I have to release some of my rage. My wings pop out, a bright fire red. Flame shoots from my mouth.

“You’re the traitor,” I gasp. “You…” My brain whirls. “You tried to kill Nico! He was tortured in a monster prison because of you!”

“Nico?” She comes toward me. I hold a hand out. A warning to keep her distance. “He’s alive? How do you know him?”

I laugh, but the sound is bitter. “No, you wanted to finish telling your story first. Remember?”

Mavis shakes her head. “I know how hard this must be for you.”

“You have no idea! You never did. I was always your sickly little sister sitting home with an inhaler and a bad back, while you were out in the big bright world getting ready to conquer it.” I take a step toward her now. But not with a hand out. “Did you conquer it, Mavis? Or should I say, Emmie?” The hot bile rises in my throat.

Mavis gives a small shake of her head. “I think it’s safe to say that the world conquered me. I mean, look at me.” She throws out her arms, showing off the cavern around her. “I’m living in a freaking cave. Eating canned soup for every meal. Our mother lives up the road with her new happy family and puts out a can of tuna each night because she thinks I’m a nice stray cat. That’s the highlight of my days. Mom, petting my head, telling me I’m a nice kitty.”

Suddenly all the anger goes out of me. “Oh. Mavis, I’m so… Sorry. I am. About everything. Mom and Dad and Grandma…”

We are in each other’s arms then, sobbing. Mourning the loss of not just Mom, but Dad and Grandma and every mundane thing in our old lives that we never fully appreciated until it was gone.

At last, we pull apart and wipe our faces.

“Who did that to her?” I ask. “Who took Mom’s memories?”

“The monsters…there’s a cockatrice that can manipulate memories. It’s not true they kill with a look. But they can erase a person’s ‘past life.’ So in essence they take their life.”

“See! The monsters are bad.” I can’t believe she can’t see it too.

“No, you’re not understanding. They erased her memory for a good reason.”

“And what was their reason?” I ask, my voice near to yelling.

“Mom asked them to,” she tells me. “She wanted all of her memories taken away.”