On a dismal autumn afternoon, Eleanor Lytton made her way along a narrow boardwalk through the reeds and cattails of a desolate marsh. Leaves had long since fallen, and the smell of distant bonfires hung over the grey landscape. In the eerie stillness, she recalled stories she’d heard since childhood about the ravine being home to faeries.
With her peasant skirt and long, wavy hair, Eleanor reminded some people of a medieval saint or nineteenth-century waif. Others, struck by her doe eyes and small mouth, thought she looked like an old porcelain doll. In fact, she was a grad student, and for two weeks she’d been crossing the ravine as a shortcut to the home of her Master’s advisor.
From the marsh, she climbed a steep slope covered in slippery, dead leaves till she reached a patchy lawn in front of an ivy-covered bungalow. Taking the key she’d been given from her coat pocket, she mounted a few steps, then entered the house.
Inside, the air was thick with smells of soap, musty books, and mothballs. Persian carpets lay over hardwood floors, walls were hung with enormous dark tapestries, and glass cabinets, covered in dust, showcased medieval carvings alongside eighteenth-century porcelain.
The house belonged to Dr. Theo Matthias, who was in Greece taking part in an excavation. He’d asked Eleanor to come in twice a week to water the plants and check his mail, and, hoping to curry favor, she’d readily agreed. Eleanor’s specialty, and the subject of her thesis, was Assyrian pottery, so she could admire most of the antiques in the house but not with a deep understanding. After filling a watering can in the solarium, she began her rounds.
Her last stop was the Boston fern in Theo’s study. Here, the air was so stifling that she opened a window, then sat at Theo’s desk for a while so a fresh breeze could enter from the facing ravine. Seconds later, she was startled by the tinkling of wind chimes hanging on the other side of the room above a locked door. Eleanor hadn’t given the locked door much consideration, though she dimly imagined that Theo’s most secret and valuable treasures lay hidden behind it. But, like so much in the house, it would have to remain a mystery.
Seated at the desk, she admired the ornate, carved handles on the drawers and gave one of them a pull. She didn’t like to be nosy—but she was. Just a little. In the shallow top drawer was a photograph of a woman Eleanor took to be Theo’s late wife, a mix of opened and unopened bills, a gift card, some elastic bands, throat lozenges, and a key.
She pulled out the key and examined it. It was black and heavy, the patina showing signs of oxidation typical of iron. She swiveled in her seat toward the mysterious door. There would be no harm in just testing the key in the lock. She didn’t even have to open the door, so strictly speaking, it wouldn’t be snooping.
In a flash, she’d opened the door and begun going through the contents of what turned out to be a closet. She wouldn’t have touched anything had the word ‘Tests’ not been written on one of the boxes. Applied Archaeometry was her worst subject, and since Theo was famous for reusing test questions, seeing old exams could be a game-changer.
After finding eight exams, she spread them on the floor and photographed them. Looking over what she’d done, she felt a twinge of shame. Oh well, she could always delete the pictures later. It was no big deal.
After she put everything back in the box, she spotted the edge of an old scientific journal on the top shelf. Mistaking it for another file folder, she tried to pull it out, but it was stuck. She gave it a hard yank. The journal came loose, but in the process, it tipped over a tall, corrugated box. The box tumbled down, bouncing off her shoulder and landing on the floor with a sickening thwack.
Terrified that she may have caused some damage, she carefully removed the top of the box. Inside was a heavy statue that would have stood fifteen inches tall had it not been broken into three pieces. It was of a nude woman standing on a rock. The head and waist were entirely severed, and the face wore a look of anguish exactly mirroring that of Eleanor.
She’d been wicked and irresponsible—of that, she had no doubt. It seemed a wonder that she could inspire trust in people when she was so sly. But any soul-searching would have to wait for another day; for now, her focus was on fixing the statue. If Theo discovered what she’d done, she would undoubtedly get kicked out of the grad program. It would be a career-ending disaster. There was no question—Theo could never find out.
With shattered nerves and a heart weighed down by guilt, she lugged the box back across the ravine, continuing to her nearby home.
In the bright light of her kitchen, it looked like the breaks were clean, but even if she could somehow glue the sections together, there would still be obvious cracks. Professional help was needed.
The next day, she called an antique dealer in a local strip mall who promised he could do a complete restoration in less than a week. When he saw the statue in person, however, he told Eleanor that holes would have to be drilled into the different sections so he could insert supporting metal rods. All that would take a month. After she pleaded with him, he told her he could probably have it ready by next Friday using superficial, barely-there cement epoxy. It would be completely undetectable, he promised, but quite fragile. She said that was fine, just so long as it looked good.
Yet when she stopped by to pick it up on Friday, he told her he was waiting for some lacquer to dry but that it would be ready on Monday for sure. Unfortunately, Theo would be returning early Saturday.
On her final evening, seeing no alternative, Eleanor placed the empty box back on the top shelf of the locked closet. She then left the study window unlatched so she could sneak in and put the statue back when the time was right.
*******
Theo Matthias was back at the university on Monday morning. Slim with mild features, he always wore a pocket vest in the hope that students would see him as a swashbuckling Indiana Jones figure.
The trip abroad had been a great success, with Theo revisiting an excavation site near Delphi, where an earthquake had exposed a hillside rich with third-century artifacts.
His most noteworthy find was an eighteen-inch statue of Pan, which Theo had been authorized to bring back for archaeometric analysis. It was sitting next to his desk at the university on Monday morning when Eleanor arrived.
After he’d peppered her with questions about the progress of her thesis, Eleanor asked about an email he’d sent. “So, what was your great discovery?”
“Ha! I thought you’d never ask!” He picked up the statue and placed it in the center of his desk triumphantly. “What do you think?”
She looked it up and down, keeping her distance. “It’s different.”
“You see the acanthus leaves carved around the base? I have another statue at home with a base just like it. I think they go together.” Theo noticed Eleanor glancing around. Was she put off, perhaps by the fact that it was a satyr with horns coming out of his head, or was it that his lower body took the form of an aroused goat? “It’s Pan,” he said, slipping into a lecture he was planning for undergraduates. “Or ‘The Great God Pan,’ as Apollodorus would have it. The thing about Pan is that he rules over nature, including woodland spirits, sprites, nymphs, and so forth. As such, he’s said to be at the root of the wilder passions.”
She blushed. “I wouldn’t know…”
“Well, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Despite appearances, he was actually a romantic of sorts; he fell in love with a beautiful nymph named Syrinx who lived by a marsh.”
“That’s nice.” Eleanor appeared fixated on the lower part of the statue.
“Ah, but Pan was lewd and coarse,” Theo continued, turning the statue around so it wouldn’t offend Eleanor’s modesty. “Syrinx wanted nothing to do with him, so she fled. Ovid tells us that as the wind passed through reeds in the marsh, they softly beckoned to Syrinx, offering their protection. When Pan found her, of course, she’d been transformed into reeds by Zeus. So, what could Pan do? He cut the reeds to make panpipes and played them in her memory. Since then, many a maid has been enchanted or led astray by Pan, but Syrinx—she was gone forever. Does that sound familiar to you?”
Eleanor’s brow puckered. “Familiar? No, sorry. I don’t know anything about it.”
“Okay, now I’m going to tell you the crazy part.” He looked her straight in the eye. “She’s gone. The Syrinx statue is gone.”
Eleanor stiffened. “Oh?”
“I’m sure I just misplaced her. Things don’t just vanish. I’ll have a good look when I get back home. It just puts kind of a funny idea in my head…” He leaned back in his chair. “As I said, Pan here has a nearly identical base to the statue of Syrinx I found last year. Plus, they were found less than a hundred yards apart. It’s like they were created as a pair. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
Eleanor stepped toward the door. “Well, I’m sure it will turn up somewhere or other. It’s always the last place you look, right?”
“Did you ever sense that someone was watching you, Eleanor? Studying your every move? So there’s no place to hide? Perhaps when you came over to water my plants? Are you all right? You’re looking pale.”
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting.”
“Please, sit down. I’m suggesting that all is not what it seems.”
“What? Where?”
Maybe Eleanor wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but Theo appreciated her for her sincerity and conscientiousness, insisting there was a spark in her and that if she just applied herself, she might have a bright future. “I’m talking about the ravine by my house. Pan’s domain.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I see…” Having moved across the room, she sank into a chair by the door. “Well, maybe it isn’t what it seems. Or maybe it is.”
“The way I see it, statues like this aren’t mere pieces of rock. Not when they’re from a sacred site imbued with centuries of tradition.” He put his hand on the sculpture and gazed at it reverently. “No, the Great God Pan is not to be trifled with. I don’t expect an intelligent young woman like yourself to believe that Pan caused an earthquake, much less that he used me as one of his minions to reunite him with Syrinx. I’m just saying stranger things have happened.”
“Stranger than that?”
“Definitely. You haven’t heard the stories I’ve heard. Mysterious coincidences. Things being moved around—as if by spirits.” He took a long breath, then became more serious and reflective. “In Delphi, I saw a girl near your age who was said to have fallen under Pan’s control. Locals told me she’d lost the power of speech. Her eyes rolled, her head hung to one side, and her limbs flailed like a puppet on a string. Of course, some will say it was because of an allergic reaction or something of the sort. Maybe so. But then, after a certain Dr. Stamos recited an ancient incantation, the girl recovered.”
“Interesting.”
“Okay, now just play along. Could it be that when I brought Pan home, Syrinx sensed his proximity and withdrew to parts unknown?”
“To the reeds?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Well…” She looked down as she fingered her necklace.
“No, you’re quite right. It’s all nonsense. Of course, if it can’t be found, I’ll have to notify the museum curators, and they won’t listen to crazy talk about the reeds or me doing Pan’s bidding. Then it becomes a matter for the police.”
“They say most things are hiding in plain sight.”
“Who says that?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Eleanor blinked rapidly. “I’m not feeling myself today.”
“No, I see that. According to Apollodorus, Pan has the power and desire to beguile all maidens.” Theo lifted the heavy statue and set it down behind his desk.
Eleanor stood up. “Really, I should go do some work.” Excusing herself, she headed to her lab down the hall.
Theo hadn’t considered that the statue might be vulgar before seeing Eleanor’s discomfort. But it was more than just discomfort; her usual look of innocence—a look that brought out his paternal instincts—had changed to something darker, almost haunted.
He now regretted all his loose talk of disappearing statues and the nymph Syrinx. More than likely, he’d moved Syrinx to his basement months ago and just forgotten. Anyway, the statue wasn’t all that important on its own; its significance stemmed from its pairing with the Pan statue—assuming both indeed had the same bases. Regardless, Syrinx was far from a perfect specimen. All ancient artifacts have their flaws, of course, but in the case of Syrinx, it was broken into three pieces.
A few hours later, Eleanor’s ethereal figure passed his door, her coat on and her eyes averted. He rose to his feet. “Off to the reeds, are you?” he teased.
“I’ve got some things to deal with.”
“I hope I didn’t upset you before. All my silly talk…”
“No, no, it’s all right…”
“I understand. Take whatever time you need.”
She smiled faintly, then walked off with her head down, her steps uncharacteristically quick. Theo hoped it was just a case of the heebie-jeebies, perhaps related to the full moon, but he had his doubts. Watching Eleanor disappear around the corner, he made a note to look up the incantation that Dr. Stamos had used in Greece.
“Well, you’ve frightened away another one,” he said to the statue behind his desk. It seemed to be looking back at him, so he threw his jacket over it.
Theo’s job required that he treat the old myths with respect, even if it meant taking some ribbing from colleagues. As a gag gift, someone once gave him a plaque with a quotation from Jacques Autreau that read, ‘Let us mock all heaven and earth, sparing neither gods nor mortals.’ It had hung in his office for years. But with the disappearance of Syrinx and now seeing the upsetting effect of Pan on Eleanor, he took down the plaque and lay it face-down on a side table. There was no need for blasphemy.
After pouring over arcane ancient texts all afternoon, Theo became restless and paced, unable to focus. It had been a long day. Leaving Pan on his office floor, he snatched up his jacket and left an hour early. He drove home just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Shafts of crimson light spread out in the afterglow, illuminating cumulus clouds stacked to unimaginable heights. The display seemed to portend some momentous event, though he didn’t rule out the possibility that it was just his jet-lagged imagination picking up on poor Eleanor’s uneasiness.
By the time he reached home, the sunset had given way to a starry sky and a full moon. Stepping in the front door, he was hit by a breeze from within the house, followed by the sound of wind chimes. A few quick strides down the hall took him to his study, where he found the window open. He took three steps toward it, then halted abruptly.
Standing on his desk, bathed in moonlight like a luminous specter, was Syrinx. Not only had she returned, but she’d returned in one piece. With his heart pounding, he gently picked up the statue and turned it over with trembling hands. It was a miracle.
He moved around toward the back of the desk to examine it under a lamp. But as he stepped toward his chair, something in the shadows caused him to trip. The chair rolled backward several feet, and he fell to the floor, dropping the statue.
After letting out a string of expletives, he looked back to see the cause of his stumble. It was a familiar figure with long, wavy hair.
“Eleanor?”
She rolled onto her back, covering her face with her hands.
Theo got up and kneeled over her. “Eleanor, speak to me.” Taking her wrists, he pulled her hands away from her face. Her eyes opened wide and rolled in their sockets. At first, he thought she was having some kind of seizure, but then she suddenly sat up. Her mouth was open, yet no words came out.
Theo stood to one side and watched in amazement as Eleanor rose to her feet, her head flopped to one side. She took a few unsteady steps across the room, stopping to twirl, her arms rising and falling like a marionette’s. Frozen in place, Theo began reciting in Greek the incantation he’d looked up that afternoon. A moment later, Eleanor was climbing onto the window ledge and then, after looking back with an otherworldly smile, dropped to the grass below.
Theo rushed to the window. “Eleanor!” he cried. But she’d disappeared into the shadows.
He turned on the desk lamp and looked at the statue lying on the floor. It was in three pieces, just as it had been before. Sitting at his desk, he tried to make sense of what had transpired. What had happened to Eleanor? Was it really her, or some sort of faery changeling? He wasn’t ruling anything out.
After closing the window and locking it tight, he noticed the key to the closet under his desk. He returned it to its drawer without a second thought.
Eleanor called in sick the next day and for the rest of the week. By the time she returned, both statues had been sent back to Greece, with Theo vowing to never again meddle in the affairs of immortals.
The window incident was never spoken of—Theo, not wanting to stir any lingering trauma, chose silence. He continued to worry about Eleanor, but his concern gradually eased as it became clear that her brush with the gods had done nothing to hinder her schoolwork. Quite the opposite. Once an average student in Applied Archaeometry, Eleanor stunned everyone with a sudden turnaround, posting exam scores that averaged ninety-eight percent. Theo had always believed in her latent potential—but he had never imagined she might also be such a convincing actress.
