Chapter 15: The Shape of Water

  For the second time in my life, Elias Beltran had managed to ruin the mood of one of the most romantic nights of my life. No way this could be an accident, right?

  I followed Manannàn into the house, and I tried to envision myself living here, in this villa by the sea, imagining myself as a sort of idealized Mediterranean domestic goddess. But something just wasn’t clicking. There was something odd about the house: it didn’t really feel lived in, yet. Too sterile, too perfect, almost like an ad for a furniture store or a holiday cabin. But like Manannàn said, it was a new construction, and I was just in a weird headspace, so I ignored it.

  Dinner was some sort of salmon dish, I forget what, with white wine. That was the weird thing I found when I was around Manannàn: all the things I could forget. I’d spent two dates with him, but apart from being Irish, and being interested in photography, I couldn’t tell you a damn thing about him.

  After dinner we ended up watching The Shape of Water. God, that was a terrible film, and I am absolutely judging everybody who was attracted to the fish man. Manannàn, on the other hand, was mesmerized, so I got up to go to the bathroom.

  As I washed my hands, I saw an old-fashioned envelope, partially open. Strange thing to leave in a bathroom. Sure, it was wrong to read other people’s mail, but the name on the letter seemed so familiar: Sonia Lovecraft? Well, maybe a peek wouldn’t hurt. The handwriting was neat, and the paper yellowed with age.

  “18/12/1924

  Dear Mr. Deagon,

  I once again implore you to cease any and all contact with myself, my daughter and my husband. Let me lay out the facts one last time. My husband’s works are entirely fictional, figments of his imagination and has no basis in your religion, or whatever you call your co-conspirators. Put politely, your missives seem to have plaigarized my Howard. Further, your name, by your own admission is Deagon, not Dagon. A reasonable person would not confuse the two. Your reputation, such as it exists, primarily consists of running an alarming social club, sending threatening letters, and bothering writers at all hours of the day or night. The police have already been notified of your activities.

  Please turn yourself in, and stop bothering decent people. Send no further correspondence, it will go unread.

  Regards,

  Sonia Lovecraft (nee Greene)”

  I photographed the letter discreetly, then put it back in its envelope. I may not have known who Sonia might have been, but I knew exactly who Howard Lovecraft was. How the hell did Mannannàn even have a letter like this, and what was it doing in a modern bathroom?

  I crossed back into the living room where Manannàn was lying on the couch. Until now, I hadn’t noticed the long, thin scar down the side of his face. I touched it gently. “If it’s not too personal-“

  “Believe it or not, a jellyfish did that. Went for a swim one day, thought I’d try some underwater photography, turned around, bang, big bloody jellyfish tentacle in my face. Still got the shot at least.”

  He showed me the photo of a huge colony of jellyfish, all eerily bright colors. The photo was beautiful, but I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine as I imagined the pain Manannàn must have been in. I looked closer to try and identify the jellyfish. I turned back to him. “How the hell did you survive? That’s a bloody man-o-war!”

  “Really? Doctor said it was a bluebottle. Anyway, it looks a lot more painful than it actually was.”

  I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, as he leaned back, pulling me on top of him. I should have been skeptical, but something about the way he looked and sounded just put me at ease. When he spoke like that, it was easier for me to just go along with everything he said. He ran his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t tell if his hands were cold, or if I just run incredibly hot. My heart thumped in my chest, and I leaned in, my nose gently brushing against his.

  But before I could kiss him, my phone rang, jolting me out of this perfect moment. I couldn’t help but laugh, a little bit bitterly as I clambered off of him. I asked if I could take the call, and went back to the bathroom. I looked at the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number. In retrospect, knowing that Detritus had hacked my phones should have given me pause, but my guard was down. But I picked up anyway.

  “Hey, can I call you back? Now’s really not a good time.”

  The message on the other line seemed pre-recorded. “We know who you are. We see all. Any further interference in the designs of Iron Mask will be dealt with appropriately. We do not forgive. We do not forget.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Goddammit, how could I fall for something so easy? I turned off my phone. Between Elias, this message, the Lovecraft letter, and the movie, I was in no mood to stay the night. Not that I would have: I’m no prude, but if I’m going to end up in someone else’s bed, I want to feel like I know them: one-night stands aren’t for me, no matter how hot this guy was.

  I went to leave, but Manannàn pulled me back on top of him. “You’re not staying the night?”

  “Not tonight. Something’s come up, and I need to head home. I’ll see you when I can.”

  “I can walk you home.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”

  It was a lame excuse, and I think he knew it. I left, walking along the beach alone, back to my house. I grit my teeth and pulled my scarf closer around my face.

  Dating was going to be difficult now, no matter which way I looked at it. While I’d never told Sebastian that I was the Crystal Guardian Amethyst, he’d always been quite understanding of any cancellations that I had to make, or sudden duck-outs. Of course, the fact that he’d been using me as a beard the whole time, probably made things a lot easier on him, emotionally anyway. This was different. Now that I was an adult, and wanted an adult relationship, I now had to balance that with being the Crystal Guardian Amethyst, and finding a way to keep my secret in a way that Manannàn wouldn’t catch on to. My mum used to tell me that the key to a happy relationship was honesty and communication, but she’d met my dad when they had both been divorce lawyers, so what did they know?

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I made it home, without interruption. I sorted through my mail, mostly bills, and a request from my old job to pay them, since I wasn’t working there anymore. But the letter that concerned me most had no return address. I opened the letter to find a note, with every letter cut out from a newspaper, like you’d see in the movies.

  “STAY AWAY FROM HIM YOU WHORE!”

  I took another photo, and paced around the room, wondering who could have sent it. The letter was a little bit wet, smelling like sea spray, but without handwriting, I couldn’t work out who might have sent it.

  I tried to come up with a list of likely suspects, but my mind was drawing blanks. Ex-partner of Manannàn's, maybe? That would be the obvious solution, but Manannàn had never mentioned anything like an ex-partner. I trusted it wouldn’t have been Emma, so that left two candidates: Best case scenario: either a monster or Iron Mask had worked out where I lived, and they were sending this to taunt me or mess with my head. Alternatively, what if Iron Mask *was* the creepy stalker ex? With as little as I knew about Iron Mask and Manannàn, the possibility was kind of out there, but I have seen stranger things in my magical girl career. The next possibility would be that I I had a stalker, but I had no idea who it might be, or how to handle this sort of thing.

  Men had been something of a blind spot for me, over the years. Look, I will admit: I do like handsome men. On more than one occasion in my youth, I have watched some godawful movies, purely because I thought the lead was hot. After I broke up with Sebastian, I have done questionable things, and even more questionable people, just for some love and affection. Hell, that’s half the reason I started at the call centre. But that’s a story for another time.

  My point is, I will do stupid things for love, and that includes not backing down from threatening messages. Whoever was sending these messages was threatening me, and by extension Mannannàn, so I would protect him too, with every tool a magical girl had at her disposal.

  I took a photo of the threatening message and sent it to Elias, Emma and The Major, before calling the cops. Immediately, my phone was flooded with text messages.

  Amy, are you okay? Please call me.

  The actual fuck? Call the cops, and let me know where to meet you. I’ll get you to base. Just please be safe.

  Call the police, and get to base, ASAP. That’s an order ?ojjell.

  I tried once again, to focus on Manannàn's face as I tried to transform. Nothing again. I decided to try something different and focused on Emma. Worked again. I tried once more with Elias. It was slower, more hesitant, but it still happened. I sighed. Even despite my suspicions, my powers were tied to him and Emma. How? Once upon a time, my powers had been tied to Sebastian, but how could they have changed? I racked my brain, trying to think of a rationale, but my mind drew blanks.

  I would need to confront Elias, still, see if I could trust him, but what if I couldn’t do that anymore? What could I even do?

  Another text from Mannannàn. Everything alright, my sweet?

  My hands trembled as I sent the text. Yeah. Just had to take care of things at home. Missing you already.

  It was saccharine, and felt insincere. I read Mannannàn’s initial text to me. He’d called me my sweet, which would be fine, except Sebastian had called me the same thing when we are dating. Maybe what I needed was therapy, rather than a romantic relationship, but that wasn’t going to help me become the Crystal Guardian Amethyst. I sighed. I needed to hurry up and fall madly in love with Manannàn, I needed to work out how my powers really worked, and I needed to find out who this stalker was, quick smart, so I could kick their ass.

  I softly banged my head against the wall, before I packed a bag with everything I thought I might need. Changing back into my normal form, I grabbed my umbrella and my bag. I fed and watered Feather Locklear one more time, before taking the last bus to Mount Daymoon. As I looked around, I tried to work out if anybody might be following me. The old lady in the faded cardigan? The tradie in the hi-vis vest? I couldn’t stop worrying until I got to Mount Daymoon.

  The Major looked despondent. “Were you followed?”

  “No. But I don’t know if I can trust anybody. And the guy I was on a date with, he might be in danger.”

  I relayed how Elias had showed up during my date, and the events thereof. The Major promised to keep an eye on him, which I guess was comforting. I tried to rationalize things: the idea that Elias might have sent that message was absurd.

  But I couldn’t completely rule it out: not after showing up at Mannannàn’s house like that, plus the whole way he’d organized my interview with The Major. But I refused to believe it. My powers relied on Elias, in some way, I knew that much. And after our phone conversation, I just couldn’t reconcile the possibility of Elias doing this with what I knew of him. I mean, from what I knew of him, Elias wasn’t sneaky or subtle enough to pull off something like this. He was in your face, guns blazing. And strangely enough, I was beginning to appreciate that straightforwardness.

  I lay out on the concrete floor, tried to sleep, but couldn’t. Being a magical girl hadn’t prepared me for something like this.