Dead Waters - Anton Strout [109]
“It won’t?” I asked. “Why not?”
“Because that’s not who you are,” he said. “You save people, and that includes yourself as well. It’s why you’re out there and I’m down here.”
Godfrey was probably right. The reason I obsessed over every little thing was my near-constant need these days to be helping others. My issues with Jane, the dresser, and the apartment were only a reflection against that, my last safe haven where I didn’t have to defend the world, my Fortress of Solitude. My emotional psychometric outbursts were only an extension of my raw feelings about not wanting to share that, but if I was honest with myself, it wasn’t that I didn’t want Jane to move in. Hell, she wasn’t even asking to. I was simply scared because it would ultimately be the final wall to giving myself over to someone completely. The realization alone was enough to ease some of my tension, and I switched my focus back to the case.
“Have you had any luck tracking down that symbol on Jane’s back yet?”
Godfrey nodded. “I came across that marking in some of the older books of New York history. It seems that the older generations of Greek fishermen and sailors carved it into their boats. They believed it would give them good water for safe sailing. It put them under protection from the sea.”
“Or something in it,” I said. “But what does it symbolize?”
“At first, I thought it might be the symbol for Castalia,” he said. “A fairly common figure in Greek mythology, the nymph of poetry.”
“What the hell is remotely poetic about this she-bitch who’s constantly trying to drown me or turn my girlfriend into something I’ll need a fish tank to hold?”
“That’s just it,” Godfrey said. “Castalia didn’t seem like the right fit to me, either. So I kept looking, checking variants of all water-based symbology. It turns out that the mark is used to summon forth a host, a vessel, for the water spirit to inhabit.”
“Then that she-bitch has been building up her power over Jane,” I said, “exerting it to take control of my girlfriend. So, what is it? Who is it a symbol of?”
“Are you familiar with the Police?” Godfrey asked.
“The band?” I asked. “Or the serve-and-protect kind?”
“The band,” he said.
“Yes, but do you really think this is the time for a music lesson?”
“In this case, yes,” he said. “I don’t care much for modern music personally, but I do try to associate myself with cultural works that touch on anything mythosrelated. When it comes to references, the works of Sting are unparalleled.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, what song are we talking about here?”
“‘Wrapped Around Your Finger,’” he said. “The lyric is, ‘You consider me the young apprentice, caught between the Scylla and Charybdis.’”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” I said. “What the hell are those?”
“I think your woman in green may be Charybdis,” Godfrey said. “A daughter of Poseidon. A naiad, technically.”
“Those are a type of water nymph, right?” I asked.
Godfrey nodded. “Very good,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said. “Good to see that my time studying Know Your Unknown wasn’t completely wasted on me. But I thought nymphs were supposed to be sexy. This Charybdis is more deadly than sexy.”
“I’m sure she started that way,” Godfrey said, “but if you—excuse the language—piss off the gods, they tend to exact a punishment.”
“Punishment?”
“According to Homer, she stole from Hermes. For her crime, she was turned into a monster of the sea. Another story says she was transformed because she did so much damage on land in the name of her father, Poseidon, that Zeus became irate with her and exacted it as punishment on her. There are several versions of the tale, but any way you look at it, she’s marked as a monster of the sea. Part of the description for Charybdis in one of her forms is a giant mouth that takes in vast quantities of water, creating whirlpools.”
“Like the ones that have claimed all those boats over the years at Hell Gate,” I said.
“Exactly,” he said.
“What about the other one you named?” I asked. “What was it called again?”
“Scylla,