Winter's Spell, page 9
“But I’ll be happy to give you a tour if you like,” she added to alleviate that feeling. “Stop by in the morning, before ten, and I’ll definitely be there.”
“Wonderful,” said Lisa. Unexpectedly, she leaned in and gave Tessa a hug. “Thank you, really, for inviting me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Tessa left the B and B feeling completely confused about Lisa and wondering how exactly she was going to direct someone who came with quite so much baggage.
As she walked home, her mind swirled with emotions both past and present. Lisa was a tough nut to crack. Tessa knew that Chayo disagreed. After the breakup, when Tessa was temporarily living on Chayo’s living room floor in the Bronx, Chayo had argued the very opposite.
“She’s a control freak and she emotionally abused and manipulated you. She made you believe you’re weak. What did she say to you at the break-up?”
Tessa had been curled up in a fetal position on the blow-up mattress, huddled under a blanket, still reeling from breaking up with Lisa and calling off their engagement just two days earlier. The words Lisa had said to her, those last words before she’d run out of their apartment, were: “How could you do this to me? And to yourself and your career? Who are you without me?”
She could barely get the words out, and when she did, she saw Chayo get angry all over again.
“She’s not complicated, Tessa. She’s a cold-hearted bitch,” Chayo had said, no doubt biting back many a harsher comment in her head. “Forget about her. She didn’t know what she had right there in front of her. You’re sensitive and smart, talented, beautiful…you’re the whole package. Who is she without you? That’s what she should be asking.”
Chayo’s righteous indignation had helped a little bit in the moment, but it was really her whole-hearted support, her ride-or-die dedication to Tessa and the puddle of emotions that she’d been reduced to in those first few days and weeks post-breakup that made Tessa eternally grateful to her. She knew it was a lot of pride to swallow for Chayo to agree to work on a project with Lisa.
Tessa’s mind swirled with these memories, and she wondered again if she’d made a mistake casting Lisa. She’d rationalized it six ways to Sunday, and yet, here she was, wondering one more time.
The logical side of her knew that it was a done deal; there was nothing to do but move on. And Lisa’s question had a new poignancy for Tessa: who was she without Lisa? She was an ambitious director, a dedicated teacher, and a person looking for love. Unlike the twenty-three-year-old noob that she’d been when she met Lisa, she was older and wiser now, and she knew what she wanted out of life and love.
And she had a good feeling about Roxy. Roxy was confident but kind, energetic like Tessa, but more chill and less high-strung. That was the energy that she put out, and Tessa felt sure their energies would complement one another.
When she got home, she texted Roxy right away, before she lost her nerve. She wasn’t going to make any plans with Lisa until she’d nailed something down with Roxy. It was Roxy she wanted to spend time with and get to know. Her heart beat faster as she clicked “send.”
Chapter Nine—Roxy
The next morning, after yet another breakfast of cold cereal for Roxy and cold fish for Mo, they set off for the museum.
Tiny snowflakes danced through the air, and the sun was nowhere to be seen, but this was exactly the kind of winter weather Roxy loved. The whole world got quiet when it snowed, the drifting flakes cloaking everything in a plush silence. There was something rather magical about it all.
Mo appeared to be enjoying the experience as well. It was her first real snowfall since arriving on land. Roxy watched as she stuck out her tongue like a kid, catching snowflakes out of the air, and she couldn’t help smiling. Mo really was something else.
Now that they’d been living together for going on four days, Roxy had gotten used to her. The raw fish and eating habits aside, Mo wasn’t too hard to get along with. She could be intense, of course, and Roxy still wasn’t sure what Mo’s oath to help her would entail, especially now that she knew Roxy was attracted to Tessa. Overall, though, she was enjoying having a roommate. It was nice to have someone to talk to in the mornings and evenings. That morning she’d taught Mo how to make coffee with the machine, and Mo had been delighted when the fresh coffee began dripping into the carafe, even if she had absolutely no interest in drinking the coffee once it was done.
Everything was new to Mo, from silverware to soap to television and TV dinners. The toilet had been a whole thing. Roxy had shown her how to use it, and Mo had practically screamed when she’d flushed the water. Luckily, she’d grasped the concept fairly quickly, though not before explaining to Roxy how disgusting it was going to the toilet in human form.
“Believe me,” Roxy told her. “I know.”
Now as they walked through the falling snow, Mo’s curiosity and joy in all the new things made her more aware of everything as well. The feel of snowflakes landing in her eyelashes, the many shades of gray and white in the sky, and the crunch of snow and ice beneath her warm winter boots all became unique pleasures to be savored.
Her feelings of loneliness from Hazel’s wedding were lessened now. Between the brewery and the theater, Tessa and Mo, Roxy was starting to feel like a part of a larger community again. They were all welcome distractions that helped her refocus away from those feelings of sadness and isolation from earlier in the week.
The entrance to the museum was on one of many adorable streets that ran perpendicular to the bay. Around it were residential homes as well as a café and a couple of shops. Ptown was like that—little hidden gems sprinkled in and around the peninsula, and you never knew what treasure you’d find just around the corner.
If she hadn’t been looking for it and known the exact address, Roxy would have missed the museum for sure. The sign outside was off to the side and faded; the building itself looked like a residential home in the classic New England style all around them—wooden shingles and white trim, with slate-colored shutters outside each window.
“This is it,” she said to Mo as they mounted the steps to the museum.
Inside, they found themselves in what looked like someone’s living room, but with a gift shop and checkout counter inside it. Old photographs of Provincetown’s past, as well as even older maps and drawings hung on every inch of available wall space that wasn’t covered in shelves with books and knickknacks. It wasn’t immediately clear what was for sale and what wasn’t, but there was a merry, cluttered look to the place that felt very homey to Roxy.
The room was empty, but on the counter there was a small bell and a sign encouraging visitors to ring the bell if no one was around.
“Go for it,” said Roxy to Mo, gesturing at the bell.
Mo approached the bell with unnecessary caution. What on earth did it look like to her, wondered Roxy. Finally, she tapped the bell far too hard, and the bell jangled loudly, startling Mo nearly a foot into the air.
“Hey, it’s just a bell,” said Roxy. She touched it more softly to demonstrate. “See? No big deal.”
“Maybe for you,” muttered Mo.
Before she could respond, a short person with a storm of white-blond curls bustled into the room.
“Hallo!” she said. “So sorry! Just puttering around in the back, you know. Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
The woman’s voice betrayed an accent that Roxy couldn’t quite place. It was like an English accent, but not. Australia maybe? New Zealand? Something like that. The museum staff member was quite petite, and her blond hair seemed like it belonged to a much younger person, but Roxy could easily see that she was quite a bit older than she’d originally assumed. Maybe forty or forty-five? She was pale and ruddy, wearing loose-fitting jeans, a wild hot pink and black sweater, and black Converse sneakers that seemed far too spring-y for the wintery weather outside. Her glasses were clearly for a strong prescription as they made her eyes look small and far away.
“No, not at all,” said Roxy. “We just got here.”
“Welcome!” said the woman. “I’m Clare. Lovely to meet you. Are you wanting to enter the museum? We have a general entrance and then we also have an entrance with a tour. Oh, but our tour guide isn’t here today. Of course, I’ve forgotten. But I can give you a little tour with the general entrance. It’s no bother. Nobody’s here.” She laughed nervously. The whole speech was delivered very quickly, and Roxy wondered how many people came to the museum in the winter. Not many, she surmised.
“Nice to meet you,” said Roxy. “I’m Roxy. This here is Mo. We were, uh, actually interested in the exhibits about the…erhm…magical creatures under the sea.” She screwed up her face trying to remember what the exhibit had been called on the website. “Oh! Yes. The myths and legends exhibit.”
“I see,” said Clare with interest. “Is this for a school project?”
Roxy and Mo looked at one another.
“No,” they said in unison.
How young does she think we are, thought Roxy.
“Personal interest then?” said Clare pleasantly. “Or is it something more than that?”
“More than that?” Roxy wasn’t sure what the woman was getting at.
“It’s just that for some folks around here, myths and legends aren’t really legends. They’re real. We get quite a few people like that. Interested in magic and witches and mer—”
“STOP!” The word flew out of Roxy and Mo at the same time. The unsuspecting museum guide was somewhat stunned.
“Sorry? Something I said?” she sputtered.
“Don’t say that word!” Mo was practically glowing with ferocious energy, looking more like an animal than a human. Roxy would have sworn Mo’s hair had stood on end, even if just for a second.
“It’s just, uh, my cousin here is a bit sensitive to that word. The ‘m’ word if you know what I mean,” said Roxy with a big, theatrical wink. “I think she’d prefer, uh…” Roxy looked over at Mo questioningly.
Mo stared back at her blankly.
Clare tried to fill in the silence. “Water nymph? Nereid? Kelpie? Siren?”
At the last word, Mo breathed in sharply. “No. Not siren! Sirens are something else. Something evil.”
“Oh?” said Clare pleasantly. “Well, yes, I suppose you’re right if you know your Greek myth.”
“What? I’m confused.” Roxy definitely did not remember anything about Greek myth.
“Well, in the Greek myth, sirens were women with beautiful voices whose singing enchanted sailors to jump off their ships and drown. Only later people began using the word siren to refer to…” Clare’s voice trailed off.
“Magical sea creatures,” supplied Roxy. “Is that okay, Mo?”
Mo nodded somewhat reluctantly. “It’s not exact, but it’s fine.”
Clare nodded. “Got it.”
“Where I am from, the siren is a terrible creature, an evil woman who may live both underwater and on land. She hunts my people, and we fear her.”
Roxy looked over at Clare to see how she reacted to Mo’s odd statements, but, to her relief, she appeared to be taking it all in as a matter of course—as if people were always coming to the museum and talking about evil magical creatures who were hunting them.
Roxy paid the general admission fee for the two of them, and they began the tour of the museum’s myths and legends section. They bypassed the other rooms filled with fishing nets, whaling harpoons, paintings of Cape Cod Bay, and life-size dioramas of fishermen’s homes in the nineteenth century. Clare was a veritable font of information, even if it was at times a bit difficult to follow because she often spoke so quickly and often jumped from topic to topic. Her lilting accent kept Roxy guessing, too.
They soon found themselves in front of a display case with some curious objects, and next to it was a diorama of a ship’s prow, with a mannequin dressed like a sailor looking down into the water. The “water,” or whatever it was, shimmered at their feet, and in the medium they could see an unclear shape, something between a manatee and a mermaid. The placard next to the diorama explained that often sailors would claim to see mermaids when what they’d really seen was some other kind of aquatic animal.
Of course that made sense. The water could distort whatever was under the surface, and if you were a sex-starved, drunk-on-rum sailor, then you were probably thinking about women all the time.
“Here we are,” said Clare. “Anything I can tell you about the, ah, magical sea creatures and their link to Cape Cod?”
“Actually, we’re a bit more interested in, um, other people who might be looking for these creatures. Or, rather, who want to hunt them and use them for magical purposes…” Roxy’s voice trailed off. She was sure Clare would think they were total kooks.
Luckily, Clare took this line of questioning in stride. In fact, she appeared quite excited by these particular questions and knew exactly what Roxy was getting at.
“I see what you mean,” she said, giving them both a knowing glance.
Mo had been remarkably quiet in the museum. No doubt seeing all the usual sea objects here on land and inside a house, no less, was a bit of a shock for her.
“Do you?” Mo finally was able to focus on Clare and take her eyes off the diorama, shaking her head with disdain.
Clare nodded wisely. “I’ve actually been looking up quite a bit of lore around the topic in the last few weeks. Just before the New Year it was, I had a lady here show up asking some very similar questions to you.”
Roxy’s eyes widened. This had to be someone involved in Mo’s enchantment. She and Mo exchanged a look, and Roxy saw fear in her eyes.
“Oh yeah?” said Roxy, trying to sound casual. “Who, uh, was she? Maybe we know her.”
“Can’t remember much,” said Clare, brows knitted in the effort to remember. “Goodness. It’s like looking through fog in my brain. All I remember is it was a woman. She didn’t want the full tour either. Just wanted the stuff about the, er, magical sea creatures. Was asking if we had any books on the subject. I told her we do, but that we don’t generally allow the public to enter the back library except by arrangement ahead of time. She was a bit miffed at that.”
“I’ll bet she was,” said Mo darkly. “I doubt it stopped her.”
“Oh?” Clare looked confused. “We haven’t had any break-ins, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“But you were saying that you looked at these books yourself?” Roxy tried redirecting the conversation.
“Oh. Yes. Yes, that’s right. I did say I’d been reading up on it,” said Clare, her thoughts clearly a bit scattered now. “I’m sorry. It’s just the strangest thing that I can’t remember what this lady looked like. Normally I’m quite good at remembering a face. We don’t exactly get lots of crowds here. There was something about her that struck me as particularly memorable.”
Clare looked incredibly frustrated that she couldn’t remember. Meanwhile, Roxy’s mind was working overtime. Was this evil magic at work? Had this other magician or sorceress used some kind of cloaking spell or befuddling enchantment so that Clare wouldn’t remember what she looked like? It felt like a distinct possibility. After all, they were dealing with someone who had no problem trying to capture and possibly kill a mermaid. A chill went through Roxy just thinking about it.
“It’s all right,” said Mo. “Could you tell us about what you read?”
“Sure,” said Clare. “You were asking about legends or lore that had to do with why someone might want to capture a mer—I mean, magical sea creature? Or hunt one? Yes?” She looked at them each in turn and they nodded. “I’m sorry to say, it seems there are many reasons. Men who want a beautiful, magical wife. Circus folks who want to display them as freaks. Scientists who want to study them and learn how humans could learn to breathe underwater. Then there’s the even crazier people who want them as pets.” She ticked off each category on a finger as she spoke.
“Yes, yes, but what about magical reasons? Reasons relating to doing magic or spells or enchantments?” said Mo with some energy. There was an edge to her voice.
Clare nodded. “I did read about that, too. Lots of legends about their tails, in particular. Or was it their scales? I did find a grimoire, if you can believe it, in the library.”
Roxy and Mo exchanged another glance. A grimoire was a spellbook and that spelled trouble.
“We believe it,” said Roxy. “We’re believers, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“You’re not trying to capture one of these creatures and do a spell on it,” said Clare with a bit of a twinkle in her eye and a smile that died on her lips when she saw how earnest and dead serious Roxy’s and Mo’s expressions were.
“No,” said Roxy. Either they would sound completely ridiculous or they might just get Clare’s sympathy, but she decided to take the plunge. “We’re concerned that someone is hunting these creatures in the waters of Cape Cod Bay and putting the population at risk for maiming or worse.”
If Clare thought it was a joke, she needed only to glance at Mo to see the pained, drawn expression on her beautiful face to know they were not joking.
Understanding dawned on Clare’s face. “And you think that lady who was here before you is this person or part of this group of people? I see. Well, the situation is quite serious then.”
“That’s why she was asking those questions,” said Roxy.
“How do I know you’re not one of those people, too?” said Clare, eyeing them suspiciously. She’d clearly gone from taking it all as a joke to being wary of them, too.
“How do we know you’re not one of those people?” countered Mo, hands on hips, eyes blazing. “Roxy is trying to help me—I mean, help these creatures, and we are taking a huge risk coming to you.”
