Now, with everyone bustling around, changing into street clothes, cleaning up, and making plans, Gemma felt like she was moving in slow motion. The world seemed to rush around her, and all she could do was stare ahead vacantly.
She barely even recognized herself anymore, and it wasn’t just the glow of her skin or glisten of her hair from the sirens’ curse. There was a hardness in her expression, and a blankness in her eyes. It was that look—the emptiness that had edged its way into her golden eyes—that she saw reflected back in Thea’s emerald eyes.
And Gemma realized that’s what resignation must look like. And compromise. And loneliness. It was all the small things she had given up, all the little parts of herself that she’d let Penn take away from her, so she could survive, so her family and friends could survive.
If she didn’t break free from this curse soon, then she never really would. If she gave enough of herself away, eventually she’d never be able to get herself back.
“So are you coming or not?” Thea asked, and Gemma became aware that she’d been talking for a while. Gemma had just tuned her out.
“What?” Gemma asked, and turned away from the mirror to look back at Thea.
She’d changed out of her Renaissance costume and slipped into a formfitting dress. Her red hair had been pulled up, and her heavy stage makeup washed off. Then Gemma noticed that it was nearly silent, meaning that most everyone had gone, and she wondered how long she’d been staring off into space.
“What is going on with you?” Thea asked in her low rasp, and narrowed her eyes.
“Nothing.” Gemma glanced down at her costume, the fabric suddenly feeling heavy and stiff, and she pushed back her chair. “I need to get changed.”
“I know. I asked you why you hadn’t changed yet like ten minutes ago, and you never answered me,” Thea said.
“Sorry.” Gemma ran her hand through her tangles of hair and lowered her eyes. “My head was a million miles away, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Thea agreed.
“Will you help me?” Gemma asked, and turned her back to Thea, so she could unhook the many fasteners of the gown.
“So where was your head?” Thea asked as she began to undo the costume.
“I don’t know.” Gemma lowered her eyes, so Thea couldn’t meet her gaze in the mirror. “Just elsewhere.”
“Were you thinking about the scroll?” Thea asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Gemma answered honestly.
She probably should’ve been thinking about it, but she’d been driving herself insane trying to analyze the scroll and now the journal.
There had been a setback with the journal, too, and that helped account for Gemma’s current listlessness. She didn’t want to tell Thea about that, though. Thea’d already gone out on a limb to help, and she didn’t need to burden her with added worry and frustration.
Besides, it gave her plausible deniability. If Penn ever cornered Thea and demanded to know about Gemma’s activities, Thea could answer honestly that she didn’t know.
Since Gemma was busy with the play, and Harper was with Nathalie, Marcy had agreed to take the journal out to Lydia’s so she could try to translate the back parts. When Marcy had stopped by to pick it up, Harper had asked her if she knew anything about one of their big leads on being able to find Diana—Audra Panning.
Marcy did know something about Lydia’s great-grandmother Audra, but it wasn’t good news. She had died years ago.
One of their biggest hopes of finding the goddess was dead. It seemed like anytime Gemma thought she’d be able to break the curse, something happened that would make it more difficult.
“Have you found out anything more?” Thea asked.
“I don’t think there’s anything more to find out,” Gemma said, admitting her greatest fear.
“I told you that,” Thea said, but she sounded apologetic.
“Thea!” Liv’s voice wafted down the hall, her song seeming to penetrate through everything.
It should have been a lovely sound. Liv wasn’t quite the enchantress that Lexi had been with her song, but her voice was on a par with Penn’s, which even Gemma found seductive when Penn was really giving it her all.
But for some reason, when Liv sang, it sent chills down Gemma’s spine. Her words had a beautiful velvet layer, but beneath it, there was a supernatural quality that felt like nails on a chalkboard.
“Thea,” Liv called again, and Thea groaned, making Gemma wonder if Liv’s voice had the same effect on Thea as it did on her.
“I’m in the dressing room!” Thea shouted.
“Penn sent me down to get you because you’re taking forever.” Liv leaned against the doorframe and tousled her blond hair. “And I want to get out of here.”
“You guys have big plans for this evening?” Gemma asked.
She slid back to the corner of the dressing room, where she planned to do a kind of dressing gymnastics. There was no divider or privacy in the room, and Gemma had to attempt to pull on her T-shirt and jean shorts around the costume, so Liv didn’t get a peek at more than Gemma wanted to show.
It was strange because Gemma had changed in front of Thea and the other actresses in the play several times today, not to mention all the times she’d gone swimming with the sirens, and they’d seen her in various stages of undress.
So it wasn’t the being seminude part that bothered her. It was Liv, and her large, hungry eyes, and the way Gemma would be able to feel them searching her. Just thinking about it made Gemma feel violated, and she hastily pulled her shirt on over the dress.