Deep Water (10 page)

But that wasn’t going to happen. His
seizures had brought his diving days to an abrupt end. He still remembered his
last dive off the coast of Greece, and the great good luck he’d had in finding
a beautiful female octopus tending her nest. He could still see her clinging to
the side of an algae-carpeted boulder as she piled rocks and plants around the
nest’s entrance, camouflaging it from local predators. He’d swum away quietly
at the end, not wanting to disturb her housekeeping efforts.

He sometimes thought that if there were an
extinction level event that wiped land animals off the face of the earth, the
cetaceans would wind up arm (so to speak) wrestling it with the octopuses for
who would become the next dominant race. Personally, he hoped it would be the
octopuses. No matter what all the woo-woo New Agers thought about them, dolphins
were aquatic apes and just as prone to murder, rape, and abuse as their
land-based cousins.

“That one,” Dunn called, breaking into his
thoughts. Griffin glanced at the indicated island. It was significantly larger
than its neighbors, and its vegetation was well established. He was surprised
some enterprising businessman hadn’t tried to build a summer cottage on it.
Or maybe one did and it got washed away by a
hurricane.
He grinned at the thought.

Dunn pointed out a small inlet on the
northeast side of the island. He stood and reefed the
Seabird
’s sails as Griffin cranked the engine and guided the boat
into the space. A soft thud under the bow indicated that they’d struck the
island’s underlying sandbar.

“We may have to push off this damned
thing,” he announced, getting to his feet behind Dunn. “And by
we
, I mean you. I’m the invalid, after all.”

Dunn raised an eyebrow at that. “I have no
intention of camping out here overnight,” he said, setting the anchor before
hopping over the gunwale onto dry land with a mooring rope in one hand. He
lashed it around a small but sturdy-looking pine. “Trust me, I’ll make sure
we’re not stuck.”

Griffin grunted at that, stepping to the
bow. The smell of land was stronger now over the salt and seaweed tang. A
cautious hop/step over the gunwale landed him on soggy but relatively stable soil.
Looking around, it was clear that someone had been out here before and had
trampled down paths through the foliage, but there were no man-made elements
like gravel or concrete.

Dunn reached back into the boat and hauled
out a backpack. “Feel up to a bit of a walk?”

“It’s not going to be very long, is it?”
The island was maybe two hundred meters in length, and half that in width.
Before his diagnosis, Griffin could have strolled the entire thing comfortably
in less than an hour. Now, though, he suspected he’d be lucky to make fifty
meters before needing to sit down and rest.

“Not at all. Come on.” Dunn turned and set
off towards the island’s center, his pace slow but not deliberately so.
Gritting his teeth, Griffin followed.

****

Poseidon studied the island’s foliage as
he walked, happy with the work of his
daimons
. He’d told them to find a barrier island and turn it
into a natural park for the day. They’d done their work admirably, and were now
busy chasing off biting insects.

He glanced over his shoulder at the
mortal. Griffin was sweating slightly and flushed with color. Poseidon knew it
was temporary, but it also made him think of what his mate must have looked
like before his illness had drained him.

Imagine what he’ll
look like as a god.
In his mind’s eye Poseidon could see drawn flesh refilling, a healthy tan
replacing the grayish pallor and muscles padding out the over-thin limbs, the
whole wrapped in a blue chiton with a proper breastplate and trident.
I wonder if he’ll keep the grey in his
hair?
It does give him a wonderful touch of gravitas.

The footing changed underneath, and he
slowed. “Watch your step. There’s some sort of pool here,” he called.

“Oh?” Griffin joined him, studying the
rough oval lagoon that lay at the center of the island. The water was clear,
revealing the plant life that lined the bottom. A stand of loblollies flanked
it about six feet back from the edge, providing a bit of shade. “I’ll be
damned. Wonder how that formed?”

Hardworking
daimons
, Poseidon didn’t say. “I have no idea,” he said,
toeing the damp foliage on the bank. “Storm-water that gathered in a
depression?”

“Yeah, or it filters in through the sandbar.
There might even be a channel out to the sea.” Griffin dropped into a cautious
crouch next to the lagoon. “It’s definitely got fish. Looks a bit too clear for
alligators, though.”

“I would certainly hope so,” Poseidon
muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind.” He hefted the backpack. “I’m
getting a bit
peckish
. Are you hungry at all?”

Griffin made a noncommittal noise. “I
could eat. I don’t suppose you have water in there.”

“Of course.” One of the nice things about
being a god, Poseidon thought, was being able to pull any comestible you liked
out of a bag. He eyed the shade under the loblollies. “Let’s sit down there.”

Five minutes later a waterproof tarp had
been spread out in the shade of the pines and laid out with sandwiches, chips,
fruit, and bottles of water. Not quite the feast Poseidon would have preferred
to serve, but he had to keep up appearances. And if he was ruthlessly honest
with himself he didn’t think Griffin was up to an elaborate meal.

The mortal munched slowly on a cheese and
pickle sandwich, the soft smile on his face showing his pleasure. “Thanks,” he
said suddenly.

Poseidon looked up from his own sandwich.
“For what?”

“For this.” Griffin waved a hand at their
surroundings. “And for helping me with the boat and generally being a good
mate. You’re making this all a lot more pleasant for me.”

The sea god shrugged, ignoring the way his
heart sped up at Griffin’s casual use of “mate”. “You’re welcome. This is
pleasant for me, as well. I’d forgotten what it was like to just relax.”

Griffin shook his head. “Trust me, you
need to take time out and relax. You always think you can do it later. And then
you find out you don’t have nearly as much time as you thought you did.”

The regret in his voice was palpable.
Poseidon had a glimpse of what it must be like to be a mortal, with such a
short lifespan and so much of it dedicated to the mundane business of
surviving. It depressed him. He fidgeted with his water bottle, wishing that he
could reassure Griffin that he had matters in hand and it would all work out.

Assuming that I
can get him into bed and give him enough strength to keep going until Chiron
finds Zeus or Apollo. And assuming that my brother agrees to make him a god. If
Zeus doesn’t…
He
upended the bottle and drained it, crushing the empty plastic in his fist.

“Sorry.”

He started. “What?”

Griffin nodded at his crumpled water
bottle. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“Ah.” He flushed, tucking the bottle back
into his pack. “You didn’t.”

“Rubbish. I know it’s not easy being
around me right now. It’s why I came here in the first place. I didn’t want to
inflict my doom and gloom on anyone else.” Griffin finished his sandwich,
licking crumbs and a smear of pickle off his fingers. “Although to be honest, I
can’t really think of anyone who would’ve wanted to come with me.”

He said it dismissively, but Poseidon
caught a thread of sadness underneath the words. “What about your family?”

“Only child. My mum and dad died a few
years ago. Car accident.” Griffin shrugged. “At least they went together. I’ve
got a handful of cousins, but I don’t really speak to any of them on a regular
basis. No kids, two ex-wives who were more than happy to see the back of me,
and I broke up with my last girlfriend about two months before I got the
diagnosis. The sum total of my personal circle includes my colleagues at the
Institute, my cleaning lady, and the barman down at my local.”

Poseidon lifted his eyebrows at that. “I
suppose I would count as an acquaintance, yes?”

“Right now you’re probably my best
friend.” Griffin grinned, the lines around his eyes crinkling. “You poor
bastard. And I’m sorry I’m putting on you like this.”

“You’re not. I’m honestly enjoying myself.
I just wish the circumstances could have been better.”

“You and me both.” With a groan, the
mortal stretched out on his back, tucking his hands behind his head as a
pillow. “God, this would be a great place for an outdoor shag. I’m surprised
the place isn’t littered with condoms.”

Poseidon’s mouth went dry at the words.
The idea of slowly drawing off Griffin’s clothes under the dappled sunlight and
learning every inch of his body was fiercely appealing. “I suppose the locals
are good about bringing their trash with them,” he said with a cough.

His mortal grinned at him. “You sound like
you don’t approve.”

“I always approve of people picking up
after themselves.”

“No, I mean outdoor sex. Doesn’t seem like
it’s up your alley, what with the tailored trousers and all.”

That was simply too much. “I also approve
of outdoor sex,” Poseidon said with some asperity. “And I’ll put money on it
I’ve had more of it than you have.”

Griffin hooted. “Yeah, right. When’s the
last time you shagged outdoors?”

Poseidon thought. His brief interlude with
Nerites courtesy of Gaia’s interference and Nick’s body counted, he decided.
“About two weeks ago, I’ll have you know, on a cliff overlooking the Ae—the
ocean.”

“Well, shit,” Griffin sighed. “Was she
gorgeous?”

“Mm,” Poseidon said vaguely. “Amazing
mouth, though.”

“You
jammy
git
. I haven’t had a blowjob since before all this.” The
mortal waved at his head. “Can’t share body fluids if you’re on cancer drugs.”

Poseidon decided on a rare and relished
pun. “That sucks,” he said mildly.

Griffin burst into snorting laughter. “You
bastard. So are you still seeing her?”

That was a shark’s maw if ever he’d seen
one. “It was more of a spur of the moment thing,” Poseidon said. “I have to
admit, I haven’t really been very active on the dating scene. I still have
hopes about reconciling with my wife.”

“Oh. How’s that working out?”

“Not as well as I’d like.”

“Yeah, been there, done that.
It’s
how I wound up with two exes.” He clicked his tongue
sadly. “You already know my sorry history. So what happened with you and your
missus?”

There was something almost painfully
ironic about Griffin asking that particular question. “It’s complicated,” Poseidon
said slowly. “But the upshot of it is, I betrayed her trust, badly, and someone
we both cared about died because of it. She’s never forgiven me for it.”

Griffin’s taken aback expression didn’t
help. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he said compassionately. “I thought you were going to
say something like you cheated on her, but … fuck me. That’s rough.”

“Yes, pretty much.”

The mortal settled back for a moment,
staring up at the loblolly boughs overhead. “Okay, time to change the topic. So
why don’t you have a website?”

Poseidon was mystified by the whiplash
change of direction. “I beg your pardon?”

“I Googled you. Which is kind of creepy, I
know, but I was interested in your remediation business. You don’t have any
online presence whatsoever, and neither do your sons, and with names like
theirs I would’ve expected to find something about Bythos and Aphros Seaton.
The only thing I could find was a link to a page on Greek mythology and a pair
of twin demigods with their names.”

The shark’s maw had become a jellyfish
field. “We named them after those demigods,” Poseidon said, thinking fast. “As
for my company’s lack of an online presence, it’s because most of our business
is done by word of mouth, although Bythos has been pressing strongly for us to
get a website. Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. Damn.”

“What?”

The mortal grinned. “This is going to
sound daft, but I was hoping you were a secret front for some superspy
government agency or something.
Kinda
wanted one last
adventure, you know?”

Oh, my beloved,
you have no idea.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Poseidon said, his lips twitching,” but we’re
not really associated with any government. If it helps, though, I could wear a
tuxedo the next time we go sailing.”

With careful precision, Griffin flipped him
the bird.

The sea god grinned. “I could bring a
thermos of martinis,” he said, adopting his best Scottish accent. “Shaken, not
stirred.”

“Smart
arse
,”
Griffin muttered. “Go ahead, mock a sick man.”

Still amused, Poseidon fished another bottle
of water from his backpack and settled back into the shade of the loblollies.
The point of building this tiny refuge was to set the stage for a seduction,
but he was having too much fun bantering with Griffin. It had been a very long
time since he felt able to relax with someone else and simply talk.