Undertow (Whyborne & Griffin #8.5)(3)

I’d been a bit intimidated by her, when we’d first met. But we’d spent time together, arranging the decorations for Dr. Putnam-Barnett’s wedding. Affixing the flowers I’d selected to the pearls and shells Persephone brought. We’d joked together as we worked, and she sang in the language of her people to help pass the time. Sings Above the Waves was their name for her, and we’d taught each other little ditties and made each other laugh.

I missed that. I missed her.

I perched on the edge of my bed, feeling even more awkward than usual. Rather than taking the chair as I expected, Persephone sat beside me, her hair slowly twining about her shoulders. I remembered what it had felt like, when I touched it once. The questing tendrils had wrapped around my wrist and fingers, oddly firm against my bare skin.

My throat tightened, and a familiar warmth collected between my thighs. I’d spent nights lying awake, wondering if there was something wrong with me, to want her so. She was a woman, but more than that, she wasn’t even human. Or not fully, at least. And yet she stirred my passions in a way no one else ever had. I couldn’t stop myself from imagining…

I hastily directed my gaze to the candle and tried to think of something, anything, else. “So, what brings you here?”

“I was nearby,” she said, with a wave of her hand, as if she frequently wandered the streets at night. Perhaps she did. “I thought I’d make certain my brother gave you the summoning stone.”

“H-he did. Yes.” Heat burned my cheeks. I hadn’t been sure what to think, when Dr. Whyborne handed it to me. Had Persephone given it to me because we were friends? Or…?

I was far too aware of her nearness. Her thighs looked so strong; how would they feel beneath my hands? My nipples tightened, and I desperately wished I’d put on a robe over my Mother Hubbard nightgown.

“You remind me of a cuttlefish.”

Well, that certainly killed any ardor. “Oh,” I said. “That’s…something.”

She grinned and leaned closer. One tentacle caught a lock of my hair and tugged on it playfully. “They turn different colors. And sometimes, when I talk to you, you turn pink.”

I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. “Yes,” Persephone said brightly. “Just like that!”

“A friend of mine is visiting Widdershins,” I blurted, desperate to distract her before she started asking me why I had so much trouble controlling my blushes in front of her. “We grew up together, but we drifted apart somewhat after our fathers died.”

“Your father is dead? I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She shifted closer to me, her shoulder resting against mine. “What happened?”

“His ship was lost at sea.”

She nodded gravely. “Do you miss him?”

The question caught me off guard. “I…yes.” I swallowed. “It’s odd, the things I remember about him. How he used to sing sea ballads in the evening, while smoking his pipe.”

Persephone made a noncommittal sound. Then a sly smile curled up the corner of her mouth. “Did he sing well?”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously.

“Better than you, then? Because you can’t—how do you say it? Carry a tune in a bucket?”

“You wretch!” I snatched up the pillow and smacked her with it. “Take that back at once!”

Persephone laughed and made her own grab for the pillow. We wrestled for it a moment, but she was much stronger than I. Within seconds, she had me pinned beneath her on the bed.

“Surrender?” she asked.

My heart began to race at the feel of her weight on me. Her scent, of the clean ocean wind, saturated my senses. The skin of my wrists burned where she held me down, and it was all I could do not to writhe against her for the sheer, wanton pleasure of it. Mad thoughts chased one another through my head, clamoring louder and louder.

She went still. The brown of her irises shrank to a thin ring. Her lips parted, and for a moment she seemed uncertain.

“Maggie,” she began.

The stairs at the end of the hall creaked.

We both fell silent. The stairs creaked again, and I heard a heavy tread making its way up.

“My landlady,” I gasped. “Quick—back out the window.”

Persephone scrambled off of me and to the window, even as the sound of steps reached the landing. Once there, she paused. Her fingers tightened on the wood, leaving score marks on the sill. “Use the stone if you wish to speak with me. Whenever you like. I’ll come.”

Then she was gone.

I shut the window, blew out the night candle, and flung myself into bed. Barely a moment later, I heard Mrs. Yagoda stop in the hall outside. I knew she listened for the sound of voices.

Had she overheard us? Or stepped out into the garden to investigate the crash, and seen the candlelight in my room? That seemed more likely, as I couldn’t imagine our voices had carried two floors down and yet miraculously awakened no one else.

After several minutes, the shuffling footsteps started back up, retreating down the hall and thence down the stairs. I let out a sigh of relief.

Curse Mrs. Yagoda for interrupting.

Years ago, back in New Bedford, I’d told my best friend Dottie I had to leave town, to find work. She’d begged me to stay…and then kissed me.

I’d sat frozen in shock, unable to return the gesture. She’d fled, weeping, and had never answered any of the letters I sent once I settled in Widdershins.