Lyre Read online

  LYRE

  HELEN HARPER

  For Ruth and Dave. We’ll always have the Dubliners.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE - TSUSHIMA STRAIT, JAPAN, 1995

  CHAPTER ONE - TORQUAY, DEVON, 2003

  CHAPTER TWO - LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER THREE - TORQUAY, DEVON 2003

  CHAPTER FOUR - LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER FIVE - TORQUAY, DEVON, 2003

  CHAPTER SIX - LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER SEVEN - TORQUAY, DEVON, 2003

  CHAPTER EIGHT - LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER NINE - TORQUAY, DEVON, 2003

  CHAPTER TEN - LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - TORQUAY, DEVON, 2003

  CHAPTER TWELVE - LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - TORQUAY, DEVON, 2004

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - GREECE, 2004

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - TORQUAY, 2004

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TOKYO, 2013

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN-LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN-LONDON, 2014

  CHAPTER NINETEEN-NEAR LITOCHORO, GREECE, 2014

  CHAPTER TWENTY - UNKNOWN LOCATION, 2014

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - THE UNDERWORLD, 2014

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - THE TUNNEL, 2014

  EPILOGUE - TORQUAY, DEVON 2015

  PROLOGUE

  TSUSHIMA STRAIT, JAPAN, 1995

  It shouldn’t really have happened. If Yuri’s mother hadn’t been away in England visiting her family, then it definitely wouldn’t have happened. She had very clear, very English ideas about how children should be treated. And they most definitely didn’t involve going sea fishing, even if it was supposed to be a beautiful summer’s day.

  But her father, who had always secretly wished for a son, had decided he wasn’t going to treat his only daughter as if she were made of glass. He didn’t often adhere to stereotypical Japanese notions, which was one of the reasons why he’d ended up with a Western woman for a wife in the first place. If Yuri wanted to act with ‘tomboy tomfoolery’ as her mother so caustically put it, then he certainly wasn’t going to deny her. So when she had begged him to take her out fishing with him, he didn’t put up much resistance. Truthfully, he was thrilled.

  The day had started out normally enough. They’d risen early, carefully packing bento boxes for lunch and ensuring they had enough water and suncream to be out all day. Even her father wouldn’t risk Yuri’s light delicate skin. The other fishermen had called out jovial greetings, with a few murmurs and raised eyebrows at Yuri’s presence, when the pair had boarded the little boat. Her father had beamed cheerfully at them all, dipping forward into a series of little bows as he did so. Yuri tried to copy him, her face a picture of tight concentration.

  ‘Sugoi, Yuri-chan,’ he murmured to her under his breath. ‘Well done.’

  A warm glow spread through Yuri’s body, setting her fingers and toes tingling. She darted up onto the deck, kicking off her sandals so that she could feel the smooth warm wood under her bare feet. Then she quickly stowed her stuff inside the small cabin and stood beside her father as he checked off the equipment, occasionally picking up a lure or net and turning it over in his large lined hands.

  ‘It’s important to be prepared,’ he said softly, sensing her impatience to get underway. ‘We must respect the sea.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Susanoo will get angry if we don’t.’

  Susanoo was the Japanese god of sea and storms. Yuri’s father often invoked him while her mother expressively rolled her eyes in the background. Yuri loved watching the biting backplay between her parents during such moments. Their conversations would regularly take the form of familiar bickering, invariably ending with her mother’s skeptical ‘so desu ka’ and her father’s amused rejoinder of ‘so desu ne’, followed by a brief brush of his lips on hers, and a flicker of contented pleasure in both their eyes.

  ‘Honto desu ka?’ she asked. ‘Really?’

  Her father ruffled her hair. ‘Honto desu. Really.’

  Despite his slow careful movements, it was still dark when they finally set sail. Yuri revelled in the sounds of the sea as they slid away into the open water. There were many who would suppose that unless chatter filled the small boat, there would be silence. But instead there was a harmonious symphony; the creak of the boat, the lapping of the water, her father blowing out air from his cheeks as he attended to the tiller, and the occasional distant shout travelling across the salty still air from another nearby vessel.

  By the time the sun finally decided to announce itself, their little boat was already far out to sea. The wind was picking up, causing Yuri to dig into her little bag to find a ragged elastic bobble to keep her hair out of her eyes and mouth. Her father glanced upwards as if watching the gusts, then nodded firmly to himself.

  ‘We’ll anchor here,’ he called out.

  Yuri grinned. Now that the day was light, and the horizon clear, it was apparent they had left the other working boats far behind. Even the shore of home was imperceptible. There would be no interruptions to their special day together. Her father pulled out a small transistor radio and turned it on, filling the little boat with the tinny sounds of the Japanese pop music he knew Yuri loved. Then they got to work, setting up the fishing tackle and getting down to the business of the day.

  Her father’s movements were slow and methodical. As a salaryman, he rarely had the opportunity to take his own father’s old boat out to the sea, meaning that his own skills at the demanding art of fishing were rusty and tempered by years of working in an office, rather than out on the open water. It wasn’t long before he found his rhythm, however, gently directing Yuri to set the lines and cast the lures. When a yellowtail finally caught one of the lines, he allowed her to try and pull it in, his own arms curving round hers to help should need be. It was a small fish though, and typical of these waters. Eventually he stood back and watched, pride in his eyes as Yuri managed to land it on her own. The fish flapped on the deck, gulping in distress.

  The excited gleam in Yuri’s eyes faded as she watched it struggle. Its eyes appeared glassy and unseeing even while it thrashed around. Without thinking she bent down and scooped it back up in her arms as it continued to violently wriggle, its scales cold and slimy against her skin. She only just managed to throw it back overboard before it escaped her grasp. Then she leant over and watched it lie motionless for a moment on the surface of the water, as if unable to quite believe it had been given a second chance. A heartbeat later, it flicked its tail and disappeared.

  Her father rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Sakana o taberu, Yuri-chan.’ You eat fish.

  She bit her lip and nodded. He switched to English.

  ‘If you are going to eat it, then you should respect it enough to know how it ends up on your plate.’

  His tone was gentle, but Yuri still looked down at her shoes. ‘Gomenasai.’ I’m sorry.

  He reached out and tipped her chin upwards with his fingers. ‘You have a big heart. Don’t be ashamed.’

  She offered him a small tremulous smile. A shadow crossed between them and he looked up, frowning. There was an ominously dark cloud above their heads. He sighed.

  ‘Ame.’ Rain. ‘We should go.’

  Disappointment clouded her eyes but he squeezed her shoulder. She sniffed the air. He was right. He was always right. Rain was coming. They readied the boat and turned for home.

  The radio was still merrily trilling away when Yuri heard it. It was a discordant note against the bubbly upbeat pop song, although not entirely unpleasant. At first she thought it was simply part of the tune, but then she heard it again, against the beat. She frowned, glancing around as if attempting to spot its source. The sky was growing darker by the minute, but there seemed to be no hint as to the note’s source. The third time it sounded, she looked over at her father and re
alised that instead of ensuring the little vessel was speeding home as it should, he was standing stock-still, his shoulders tense and upright.

  Too young to realise the danger, she called out curiously. ‘Oto-san?’ Father?

  He didn’t answer her.

  ‘Papa?’

  Another note chimed across the air, joining the first. He adjusted the tiller and the boat swung around. Yuri was puzzled. The distant shore had been getting closer. But now they were moving away from it again. The boat lurched from side to side as the waves grew choppier. Unsteadily, Yuri made her way over to her father and slipped her hand in his.

  ‘Papa?’ she repeated.

  She peeked up at his face. He was unsmiling and there was a hard look in his eyes. She tightened her grip, trying to remind him she was there. She was unprepared, however, when the boat abruptly listed to one side and a large wave crashed over the side, soaking her clothes and making her gasp and shiver. Yuri clung onto her father’s hand, suddenly alarmed. He shook himself and glanced down at her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Yuri-chan, I don’t know what…’

  He didn’t finish his sentence. The little radio sputtered, unable to continue on with its inner workings soaked as they were in cold seawater. And at the precise moment the pop music died, another song took its place. The notes she had heard were singing, Yuri realised. Unmusical and unharmonious, but most definitely singing.

  ‘Papa?’ she said in a small voice, although her words were whipped away by the wind.

  He muttered something inaudible. The boat heaved itself dramatically to one side again and Yuri’s slight body was thrown off balance. She fell, her body sliding several feet away. When she clambered back to her feet, the singing was louder, making her eardrums throb. She clutched at her ears with her hands attempting to muffle the sound. It hurt. She looked over at her father who was leaning across the bow of the boat, with a thrust to his back that suggested dogged determination. She tried to run to him, but the deck was now slick with seawater and she slipped, yet again crashing down awkwardly with a thump which made her yell out once sharply in pain. He didn’t even turn around.

  ‘Oto-san!’ she screamed, then began crawling back towards him on her hands and knees. Another wave careened over the boat’s edge and there was a loud rumble of thunder. Still, the singing continued.

  Her fingers clawed at the deck as she heaved herself forward. Rain was coming down now, mingling with the sloshing seawater covering the deck. Yuri’s thin t-shirt was no match for these elements. She put her head down and forced herself forward, until she was clutching her father’s leg. Using his body as purchase, she stood back upright again and grabbed his arms. She shook him.

  ‘Oto-san!’ she yelled again.

  He didn’t look at her; instead, his eyes were fixed on something ahead. Unable to help herself, Yuri turned round and followed his gaze. That was when her heart dropped down to the soles of her feet.

  There were three of them, less than thirty metres ahead, and each one was as lovely and terrible as the night. They were all naked, and all singing, gleaming white arms outstretched towards their little boat as they beckoned it further and further in. Despite the wind and the rain and the churning waves, they seemed to be dancing in slow motion upon the water. Yuri rubbed her eyes and looked again. They were still there. The unnaturalness of the situation did not escape her.

  She turned her back on them and shook her father’s unresponding, albeit still upright, body again. If she could have yelled in his face, she would have, but she barely reached his chest. It didn’t matter how hard she tugged; his entire attention was on the three bizarre women swaying impossibly on the surface of the sea. Tears ran down her face and she shouted and screamed, her voice hoarse with anxiety and fear. When nothing she did seemed to have any effect, she turned back towards the three women and watched them in abject terror as the boat approached.

  Each one had long beautiful hair, and perfect unmarred skin. Their features were fine, and even Yuri recognised their beauty. But there was a darkness in their eyes that suggested death and horror and pain. A tiny part of Yuri realised how dangerously close they were to the monster women now that she could see into their eyes. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth and waited for what was no doubt about to happen. She thought of her mother and hoped she wouldn’t be too sad when she came back to Japan and found them gone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mama,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know what else to do.’

  Something in her father stirred. Under her arms, she felt his muscles move and his arms reach round her. She looked up and saw him staring in horror down at her as he finally – finally – recognised the peril of their situation.

  ‘Yuri. Oh God.’

  He lifted his head up and glanced over at the women, then back down at her.

  ‘There’s nothing else I can do.’

  The hopelessness in his voice terrified Yuri more than anything else. He smoothed away the wet tendrils of hair from her face and bent down, kissing her forehead.

  ‘Whatever you do, Yuri, don’t leave the boat.’

  ‘Papa?’

  ‘I love you, Yuri. I’ll always love you.’

  For a brief moment, she was uncomprehending. Even when he began to peel her arms away from his body, she didn’t quite get it. But when he pushed her away from him and started forward, she started to realise.

  ‘No!’ she screamed. Then in Japanese, ‘Dame!’

  He gave her one long lingering look back, a sad smile on his face, and then he leapt forward into the cold, churning and deathly sea. The women stretched out their arms towards him and smiled, revealed sharply pointed fangs instead of gleaming white teeth. Unable to help herself, Yuri backed away against the wall of the cabin in horror.

  ‘No, no, no, no, no,’ she moaned.

  She could only just make out her father’s head before it was covered by a dark sweeping wave. Then the boat heaved and there was a loud splintering sound. Yuri screamed again before she too was spinning in the air and falling into the cold, cold water. She did her best to kick upwards and break back through the surface of the ocean, but the capsized vessel was above her head. She tried to scream again and water filled her mouth and nostrils. It seemed that life was over before it had barely begun.

  *

  ‘I should have your heads for this. I should bring you before Zeus and have him flay the skin off your body.’

  ‘By Olympus, this is what we do. It’s in our nature. You may as well blame a scorpion for stinging or a mosquito for biting. What’s the problem, Poseidon?’

  There was a roar of unmitigated anger. Yuri shivered, but kept her eyes as tightly shut as she could.

  ‘We agreed…’

  ‘No. you agreed. We didn’t agree.’

  ‘You can’t go around doing this to sailors any more! This man has a child, for Olympus’ sake! Look at her!’

  ‘We thought he was alone.’

  ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘What’s the big deal? She’s alive, isn’t she?’

  ‘He’s not.’

  A tiny tear escaped the corner of Yuri’s eye. She only just managed to avoid sobbing aloud and drawing attention to her conscious state.

  ‘Bloody sirens. You will take that girl and make sure she gets back to dry land safely.’

  ‘Or what?’

  There was a moment of long, drawn out silence followed by a muffled scream. Yuri very carefully opened her right eye, just a tiny crack. One of the women, still naked, was being held up in the air by her throat. Her eyes were bulging, strange little red threads appearing in the whites around her pupils. Yuri’s eye followed the hand upwards, taking in the stretched sinewy muscles of a man who appeared impossibly tall. In the hand that wasn’t gripping the woman’s throat was some kind of strange over-sized fork. Its edges gleamed burnished gold. She couldn’t see his actual face without opening her eye fully and she knew instinctively to play dead if she wanted to stay safe.

  ‘We ca
n’t let her live,’ said one of the other women, pragmatically. ‘‘She saw us. She’ll tell others.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t know she was there?’

  ‘Not until it was too late.’

  ‘She’s seven years old. She can say what she wants. No-one will believe her. You will do as I say and you will do it now. Take her to the shore, make sure she is safe. And don’t think for one minute that this is over.’

  There was a crack and the man seemed to vanish into thin air. Yuri quickly snapped her eye shut again.

  ‘He really thinks he’s all that.’

  ‘You know he’s probably got a tiny dick, right?’

  There was a cackle, followed by a pained choking sound.

  For what seemed like half a lifetime to Yuri, but was probably little more than ten seconds, there was no sound of anything other than waves softly lapping against the broken ruins of the boat.

  Finally, one of the women sighed. ‘We should do as he says.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘She’s just a kid. I feel a bit bad.’

  Yuri was tempted to sit up and launch herself, fists, nails and feet, at the women. Instead, she wisely kept her body limp. She felt herself being raised up. The movement made her head spin and her stomach roil. And it wasn’t until she woke up in a hospital bed with her mother asleep in a chair beside her that she was aware of anything else.

  PART ONE

  He was presented by his father with a Lyre and taught to play upon it, which he did to such perfection that nothing could withstand the charm of his music. Not only his fellow-mortals but wild beasts were softened by his strains, and gathering round him laid by their fierceness, and stood entranced with his lay. Nay, the very trees and rocks were sensible to the charm. The former crowded round him and the latter relaxed somewhat of their hardness, softened by his notes.

  Orpheus and Eurydice by Thomas Bulfinch.

  CHAPTER ONE