Letters spooled across the screen in neat, even rows that ran from the left edge to the right edge before falling off the end and beginning again at the left edge. They glutted the page in a steady flow, a reverse rain of letters filling it slowly from top to bottom, each word like shrapnel to the gut as Kay took in Dad's story.

How was she not supposed to think poorly of Mom? How could Dad-no, that wasn't fair. He was in sway. Of course he'd love her to the ends of the earth and back. It was all true and she was a fool to think otherwise. An idiot to think a siren could find anything like real love. All she'd ever have was someone enslaved to her, convinced he was in love with her to his dying day. She gripped her arms, shivering.

Just like Mom.

Arms wrapped around her middle, one warm and shaky and one cold and steady. Arthur pressed a small kiss to her ear from behind, and she dropped her hands to his arms.

No. She wasn't like Mom. And Arthur wasn't Dad. Arthur had been with her since before he was in sway. There had to be room for free will somewhere. Arthur didn't have to be over here comforting her, he was the one who'd just been threatened by Lewis. But here he was, holding her steady, like he always did.

Mom was a murderer. There it was, laid out in black and white. She'd known the moment Dad started writing about crewmates dying without wounds and the dozens of shipwrecks. This was her legacy. Kay had come across myths a few times while searching through articles and websites, but on forums when she asked more questions about their legitimacy, everyone treated them like stories. Just legends, they said dismissively. Nothing more to them than bored humans making up stories and religions for themselves about why terrible things happened at sea. She got no conclusive answers from these people and eventually she stopped asking.

How many sessions had she spent by the sea, practicing restraint under Mom's careful instruction? Why would she keep this from her? She wasn't a child! She and Aji had the right to know! Was this why Aji was acting the way she was?

And Mom was still in her room. She hadn't left it since they relayed the call from Juvenile Hall about Aji's arrest. Did she even care their family was falling apart? And at the same time coming back together. Lewis…

If it was true, she had to find to him. Had to talk to him. Why would he say something like that to Arthur? Would he have said the same thing to her if he'd made it back that night? "Sorry, Kay, you can't date Arthur." Why?

Because he knows a relationship with you is a murder case waiting to happen.

She shut her mind on that answer. She wasn't Mom. Lewis wouldn't think that of her. He trusted her, he even encouraged her about finding someone eventually. There had to be some other reason he didn't want them dating.

Why was she even thinking about that? Lewis was here! She had to find him! Had to see his worried face again. Could ghosts still hug? She needed one. Had needed one from him for nearly two months now.

Gods, she missed him. But Dad was still writing.

…..

The sun had just risen when I'd begun running, and by the time I dropped to the shore, twitching, it was sunset. My lungs throbbed and I couldn't feel my legs, but still I wanted to run. I was failing the wild woman somehow by not running. But there was nowhere to run to. The island was small and I had already covered it several times. I'd even passed the lifeboat several times, but she never turned toward me, so I kept going.

I could go no further and I lay there, miserable over my failure.

Night came, but I couldn't sleep. I was counting the seconds until I regained feeling in my legs. I'd decided I would make up for all the time I wasted by running extra hard.

Something knelt by me, and that wonderful voice said, "Páfsi." And I did not need to run anymore. She turned me over and dragged me back to the lifeboat, putting the blanket on me this time. I was shocked at her strength. Starveling that she was, she could still lift me. She must have been fearsome at her peak, I thought.

In the blink of an eye, it was morning again, and there was a ration bar and some tins of food at my feet. Several open tins lay scattered around her, licked clean, though I saw no sign of a can opener. They looked to have been torn open and for the first time I began to wonder exactly what I had found.

Noticing I was awake, she lifted a hand in greeting, though she didn't smile. "Teles," she said, pointing to herself.

"Timothy." I mirrored her gesture. A gull wheeled overhead, mocking loudly. I wondered how I was to communicate with her.

"Tha prépei na prochorísoume," she said.

Suddenly I remembered we were stranded, both survivors of terrible shipwrecks. I wasn't sure how or why this had slipped my mind, but I knew it was vital that we leave this place and report the wrecks as soon as possible. Communication could come later.

It didn't take more than a couple of days before we found help. Authorities took us to mainland Greece and provided a translator so I could explain what happened and give rough directions to the little island full of shipwrecks. Teles spoke as little as possible, answering their questions in one word responses. As they understood each other, I assumed she was speaking Greek.

I took advantage of the presence of an interpreter to ask her what happened to her, and where she planned on going after this.

She only answered my second question. "With you, of course."

For some reason this answer filled me with joy. At the same time I was puzzled. Her voice was hollow and she never looked me in the eyes.

Bringing her stateside was no easy thing, but I had garnered a few fairly influential fans of my cooking in the few years I'd been at sea, and within a couple of weeks she had a visa.

Unlike me, new language came easily to her and she was fluent by the time she set foot on US soil. By that time, I had connected the dots. She didn't deny it when I confronted her. She was like marble, watching me to see what I would do with this information.

I asked how long she had been on the island, and she said centuries. I asked what happened to her arms, and she said someone had stolen her wings. I asked how she had lived on an island like that. I had run every inch of it and there wasn't a single edible plant I could see, and little to no wildlife. By calling ships, she said. Ships with supplies for the people inside, people who arrived to the island dead. She asked how I survived, and I showed her my iPod and earphones.

Then, for some silly reason, I asked why she had made me run all day then let me stop.

"I wanted you to escape fate," she answered. "But you can't. Nobody can. I had to accept that, and it took me time."

I asked her what she meant, but she shook her head and did not answer.

I didn't know what to do with the fact that she'd killed hundreds of people-humans-for a very long time, but I couldn't just abandon her. I took her back to my flat until I could figure out what to do. I was exhausted and confused and needed to sleep. I pointed her in the direction of my bed and curled up on the couch with a blanket, dropping off right away.

I woke to her crying out, her speech slipping between English and Greek. I ran over, but she was asleep, and she wasn't giving me a command. She was just repeating something. I shook her to wake her, which was a mistake. Her claws came out and she attacked me. I think she was half awake, she kept shouting about her wings. I could see one or two pinions on her arms, but no wings.

She chased me around my flat for a few minutes before she finally realized I wasn't attacking her, then retreated to the bed and folded herself up into a little ball and cried. I didn't know what to do but I came a little closer, still keeping my distance, and asked if she was alright. She begged forgiveness, said that she wasn't trying to hurt me, that she hadn't ever wanted to kill anyone. She told me a demon had plucked her wings and her sisters' wings, and that it was a punishment for some great failure of hers. Without wings she couldn't leave the island, and turned to calling ships for their supplies.

"Where are your sisters?" I asked.

She didn't answer for a long time, but finally said, "They threw themselves in the sea to die."

That night she told me to tie her hands before either of us slept, so that she couldn't hurt me if she attacked again.

I knew I wasn't going anywhere for awhile, but I needed to work. Cooking was my art, and since Greece I'd been too distracted to do much more than slap sandwiches together. Within the week I'd found a small restaurant that was struggling to make ends meet. I had a nice sum in my account from my time at sea and made an offer. I brought Teles in and started teaching her how to cook. She would yell if I threw anything away for awhile, and it ended up teaching me more conservation in my craft. She was a fast learner, and between the two of us we opened the Pepper Paradiso.

I watched her cooking and serving people, always approaching them like they were going to stand and strike her dead. Her hands shook often back then, and sometimes she would dissolve back at the flat, saying she couldn't keep going, they could surely see her sins.

What could I tell her? She had killed and she had survived. How could I know what I would have done in the same shoes when I'd never starved in my life? I suggested she find some good thing to do. I felt stupid for not being able to say anything more comforting, but she seized on the idea.

The next day, any leftovers or send-backs were boxed and put in the fridge. At the end of her shift, she left with the food and returned to the flat empty-handed, saying she had found something to do.

This seemed to calm her, and I was happy that she was adjusting.

For several months she slept on the bed while I was on the couch. Most nights she woke with night-terrors, and I learned how to coax her free of them without getting too close. She would always say something, and over time I pieced together something about a curse. I would have dismissed it if it had been anyone else, but I still found myself obeying her every command with great determination. She was a siren, who was I to dismiss the idea of a curse? Patched together, it was, "For failure, see your feathers stripped. Let all your children's fates be tipped; the early death of eldest son, the firstborn's mind to come undone, the second one to kill and rage, the third to live within my cage."

Dad's phone rang loud and insistent from his pocket, but he ignored it, continuing to type.

One night, instead of her usual cries, she was singing in her sleep. I could feel everything starting to shut down, but I staggered over and grabbed her arm before I lost consciousness.

When I woke, she was holding me, still singing. The song was different, though. Warm and loving and full of life. And for a minute, everything was good and beautiful in the world, and I kissed her, and I said, "Marry me."

Anyone else would have slapped me for saying that out of the blue, and I felt like an idiot. But she just closed her mouth and nodded her head. That night, we added binding her mouth shut to our pre-sleep preparations.

For a while we were happy. Or at least, I was happy. She always seemed to have some melancholy hanging over her. We both took precautions against having children, though neither of us would say why. And yet one day she came to me and said she was pregnant.

Whether there was a curse or not, I wasn't willing to end what had already begun, and Cayenne was born. With her birth I relaxed. Whatever Teles had said in her sleep, our eldest wasn't a son. And a few years after Kay came Aji, and we moved from my flat to a small house as a growing family.

Then Lewis came to our doorstep. He was very beat up and had scars and burn marks. He wouldn't say anything about where he came from, just that he was afraid of being found. Teles made the decision to take him in. I went along with her, but I began to wonder some about the curse I'd heard. Lewis was older, and if we took him in, would he become our son?

Dad's phone kept ringing. It hadn't stopped for ten minutes.

Lewis dyed his hair purple, hoping that would throw whoever was watching him, and agreed to keep our secret. Truth be told, I was worried about the curse for a while after Dulcie was born, but nothing happened. Our family just grew closer together. It was hard trying to help Kay and Aji navigate a world built for humans, but we managed. After many years I stopped thinking about the curse at all.

The night Lewis died, Teles repeated a line from it. "The early death of eldest son." It was all she could say that night. And now Aji has begun to follow suit with the line attributed to the second born.

Arthur has asked if Lewis' death was his fault. It could never have been his fault. If anything, the silence Teles and I have kept implicates us more than him. If this curse is real, then we are to lose each of our daughters in some way. Lewis' death was only the beginning. Please-

Exasperated, he snatched his phone from his pocket, lifting it to his ear. "Yes?"

His expression froze, his eyes glazing over. Kay's shoulders tensed as his silence continued. He swallowed once, twice, then lowered the phone back to his pocket. "Dulcie, we need to go. Kay, I'm sorry. We need to go back."

Kay frowned. "Who was that? Mom?"

"Yes. Your mother. She needs us now." He rose from his seat, circling around to the bathroom. "Dulcie, come one. We're leaving."

Kay felt Arthur's arms tighten around her. "You're leaving, Dad. I'm staying for now."

Dad paused, not looking at her. "Unless that's a direct contradiction, I've been told you need to come with me."

Kay simmered at the sight of her father's trembling fingers, his suddenly stooped posture. Mom knew. Mom knew what command did and was still using it on him? She could, at least, release him from one part.

"Go without me, Dad. I'll talk to Mom later."

Without another word, he took Dulcie's hand and exited the room.

Silence filled the room, punctuated only by the occasional click from Arthur's prosthetic.

Kay was the first to break it. "I don't know what to do with this. I… what does this mean for me? I'm going to lose my mind? And what, Aji's fated to kill Arthur?" Her voice rose. "Says who? Who handed this to my Mom in the first place? That's who really killed Lewis!"

"Squire, tell me you've got something." Vivi stared at the laptop screen, unmoving. "Cause if Kay doesn't lose it, I just might."

"Nobody's going to lose anything right now." Mystery hopped up on the bed. "I understand this is quite a bit to take in, but every piece we get is helpful."

"Yeah, sure. It's helpful how? Do you know what's important to me right now?" Vivi walked toward the door. "Finding Chloe. Finding her and getting her away from Duet. Not because Duet somehow knew Lewis, not because it has anything to do with the Pepper family, but because Chloe's in pain and probably in danger. I couldn't care less about Lewis anymore. And none of this information helps me with Chloe." She opened the door. "I'm getting some air. See you two later."

Mystery sighed, leaping off the bed and scampering after Vivi.

Arthur let go of Kay, tugging her over to the computer. He typed at the bottom of the document, Let's get some air too. How about ice cream?

Kay rubbed her arm. "Is now really the time to be going on a date?"

Arthur smiled weakly. I almost died. You're upset about all this stuff. This is a lot of info. We could both use a break. What do you say?

She looked down at her hands. "Arthur… I really need to find Lewis."

His prosthetic was clicking against the table, and she shut her eyes. He was right. A break would be good. She would find Lewis later. There had to be some mistake, but maybe Lewis wouldn't be able to see that with Arthur there. She crossed over and tugged on Arthur's arm. "You're right. Let's get some ice cream. Think about something else for a while. There was a Dairy Queen a few blocks up from here. Let's head out."