Fathomless

by Jackson Pearce

  “I know, it isn’t,” I say quickly. “Look, Naida, I can’t stay, but don’t worry. We’ll fix this. Maybe you should go into the church.”

  “No.” She takes a step toward me, cringes.

  “What?”

  She takes another step toward me, so close I want to step away, but I know the wind will throw me off balance if I do. The waves are getting bigger. The storm is here—

  “Naida—”

  She grabs my wrist, locks her fingers tight. I stare at her skin against mine, then meet her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to do this,” she says. “But it isn’t fair either way, no matter what happens.”

  I tug my hand, but she’s strong, so, so strong. My heart starts to beat fast. I don’t understand. “What are you doing? Naida, stop.” My voice is panicked. Something is wrong, something is very wrong.

  “It’s the only way I can be Naida again. The only way we can get our souls back. We have to kill a mortal and take theirs—”

  My eyes widen, tears form. “What? Naida… no, don’t. Please,” I whisper, though the words mostly get caught in my throat. The sea thrashes, threatens us, a monster held back by the sand. “You do have a choice. You always have a choice with the future. No matter what happened in the past. You’re my friend.”

  Naida stares, motionless despite the fact that I’m pulling hard, trying to run, trying to yank my wrist away. Even now, her memories are cycling through my head: moments with her sister, at school, learning to drive, everything happy and beautiful—wrong against the eyes of the girl I see in front of me. She won’t kill me; surely the girl from a little town won’t kill me. She can’t; she doesn’t have it in her.

  But she’s desperate.

  You can’t trust someone that desperate.

  She was the desperate one all along.

  I scream when she pulls me toward the water. I dig my heels into the sand, throw my weight backward, but she drags me, like she’s part of the current. I’ve seen her swim—I’ll never survive in the waves. I know that, but there’s nothing I can do except scrape along the sand. There’s nothing here to grab on to, nothing to hold me back. My skin is turning purple under Naida’s hands. She’s marching forward—

  And then we’re in the water.

  She is strong, so incredibly strong. Her hair flies over my face as we push through the first set of waves. She isn’t Lo, though, she’s still clumsier in the water than her counterpart. She has to let go of my wrist for a moment; I try to scramble away, but the waves toss me, flip me under. Water shoots into my lungs, sand and salt fill my eyes. I don’t know which way the shore is, where Naida is—she grabs my wrist again.

  Lightning, thunder. The rain begins, so heavy and thick that it splashes more water up from the ocean. The waves are rough; the sand they toss around stings my arms—we’re almost into deep water, though we’re moving slowly now that the waves try to push us to shore. I kick hard at Naida’s legs; they buckle for a moment, I feel her grip loosen, but I can’t get the same force behind my muscles in the water as I can on land. It’s only a moment before her grip is tighter than ever. I think I feel my wrist breaking from the pressure.

  We make it to the sandbar, begin to cross over into the deep water. This is it. It’ll be over soon. I have to do something.

  “Naida, please!” I sputter, hacking as a wave fills my mouth with seawater. “Don’t, please don’t,” I beg, plead. “Think about your sister, about Sophia. Your dad. They wouldn’t want this.”

  “They’d want me to survive. They fought for me to survive,” she says over the hissing noise of rain on the ocean. She takes a few more steps; the sandbar drops off quickly. It’s only a second before the water is up past my waist again.

  No, no. In the deep water I won’t stand a chance—I have to get away. I reach forward, grab a handful of her hair, and yank, twisting as I do so. Naida shrieks but doesn’t stop, not even when the fistful comes away in my fingers. I claw at her arm, try to wrap my forearm around her neck, but she’s slick and moves around me. She’s in control. We start down the sandbar, I’m standing on my toes just to keep my head out of the water, and then, then…

  Nothing. I can’t reach the ocean floor. I gasp as wave after wave knocks me under. I can’t swim with her holding on to me. She lets go, but it’s all I can do to keep myself above water, all I can do to prepare myself for her to pull me down. No, wait. She’s looking at something, toward the shore. Between swells, almost obscured by the heavy sheets of rain, I finally see what she’s looking at.

  Jude. On the beach. He sees us. He’s yelling. He’s pacing. He’s afraid. Up by the top of the pier, the car’s headlights beam through the rain, and I make out two forms like mine—Anne and Jane.

  I want to tell all three of them to run. But Jude is getting into the water. I look at Naida; she turns back to me.

  Then she lurches forward and pushes me under.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Lo

  I am lost. I’m here, but I’m lost, like I’m watching through someone else’s eyes instead of my own.

  I see myself grabbing Celia’s shoulders. Forcing her head under the water. She fights, struggles, but she’s no match for me, not here where it’s deep. I swim down, down. Her eyes widen, and she’s forced to release the breath she’s been holding. The air floats past me in bubbles, and Celia inhales the ocean water.

  I can’t control my body. I’m trapped, watching as Celia’s eyes drift shut, as her body jerks, uselessly trying to siphon oxygen from the water.

  I scream at myself, will my hands to stop, fight, fight, fight, but there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can change. Naida is in control.

  The wind picks up, the seas toss us. The motion snaps Celia awake for a moment, a tiny moment; she tries to kick toward the surface but fails. She won’t make it, she won’t live….

  Help her.

  I scream, force my way to the front of my mind, reach down, and grab Celia’s hand. We’re deep, the surface is far away, and I can already feel Naida clamoring to regain power over the body we share. Come on, so close, if I can just get her up, yes—we break the surface of the water, only to be knocked aside by the waves. Still, at least she’s out. I grab Celia’s shoulders, hold her head out of the water, try to turn her away as wave after wave strike us, as the rain intensifies. Everything looks gray. I can’t see—

  Jude, yes. Jude, he’s trying to swim to us. He’s struggling, and the water batters him around, but he forges through the waves anyhow. Naida is screaming, shouting, clawing her way into my head. Just get Celia to Jude, get her to Jude, I think. I move toward him, he sees us, he sees me. His eyes are the same gray as everything else—

  Drown her. Take her soul.

  And suddenly I’m pushed away again, hidden within my own body, like I’m watching a dream. I try to dive again with Celia, though my body doesn’t move as easily in the water now that Naida controls it. Hurry, Jude, hurry—

  He’s here, he reaches us. The waves throw us apart for a moment, toss Celia’s body away from me. Jude sees, and we race for her, arms outstretched. His clothes weigh him down, but he’s closer. He grabs her left arm as I grab her right. I hiss at him, lash out to strike him, but he dodges down in the water, kicks back up to the surface. His arm is drawn back. He punches at my face—contact. Pain explodes by my eye. I feel warm blood against the cold rain, but I’m back, Naida is gone again. I release Celia, hold my hands where Jude can see them.

  “No, it’s me. It’s not Naida, it’s me!” I shout, but Jude doesn’t seem to understand. I shake my head; waves throw him and Celia under for a moment. Her head lolls to the side—she has to breathe, she needs air, she needs to get to land now. I start toward her, but Jude shouts, draws his hand back again, ready to hit me. Lightning crashes behind him. The wind picks up, blows us along the waves, toward the end of the pier.

  It isn’t fair. Naida’s voice, rippling through me. I’m not supposed to be you. Let me have her.r />
  She’s right. She’s right, and I feel her voice aching, her fury, her sorrow, as she pushes forward in my mind again. I dive at Jude, shove him away, wrap my elbow around Celia’s neck. Down, down, pull her down. I can feel Celia’s soul—feel it. She’s dying, and it will be mine. It’s golden and bright, like the sun, like joy, something that I think will light me if I swallow it. The deeper I push her, the more I can feel it leaving her body, drifting from her lips and surrounding me. It’ll be easy.

  “Lo!”

  My name, my name, not Naida’s, called from above. I look up. Jude is underwater; he let the last of his air from his lips to shout my name. His hair and clothes float around his body. He swings back and forth in the waves. He’s not leaving her. He’s not leaving her. He’s not leaving me.

  I don’t want to end this life as a killer, but I realize now: Someone has to die.

  I scream.

  I’m so sorry, Naida.

  I fight my way back to my own head. My name is Lo. I have dozens of sisters. I live underwater. My feet bleed when I walk on land, but I know beauty under the waves better than any human. I used to be a girl, but now I am this.

  My name is Naida Kelly.

  No. No. My name is Lo.

  Snapping back into my mind is like waking up suddenly. I’m here, I’m here. I close my lips and stop screaming. Grab Celia and jet toward the surface. I burst through the ocean’s ceiling, swim for the shore, go, go, faster—she needs air. Jude is behind me, swimming slowly, but I don’t have time to wait for him to catch up.

  The rain is blinding. It’s almost like still being underwater, but I make it to the sandbar, then to the shallows. She’ll make it, she has to make it. Celia’s body is limp in my arms as I clamber from the waves toward the shore—or what’s left of it. The bottom of the church is underwater; the waves lap at the edge of the path up to the pier. I can’t leave her within the water’s reach. Celia’s head lolls back, her hair drips, eyes stay closed. I can feel the wound from Jude hitting me still bleeding, running down the side of my face. I dash up the pathway, to the edge of the pier. My feet burn, but I push forward through the shut-down rides and booths. Finally, finally I set Celia down by the calliope, as far from the water as I dare go.

  I feel sick, dizzy. I want to go back to the ocean but no, no. Celia doesn’t move; her chest isn’t rising. I need to go get Jude, help him out of the water, but I’m afraid to leave her. I close my eyes, try to think back to when Celia and I were saving him. I pressed on his chest, yes, I can do that—I reach forward, pump my hands down on Celia’s chest for a moment. Something needs to happen, something has to happen. I lean down toward her face, listen for breath. Nothing.

  She put her mouth up to Jude’s, I remember. I can try… I can try, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid that will wake Naida—that’s how we’re supposed to take souls, with a kiss. It’s not a kiss, but it’s close enough, enough that I’m frightened….

  I have to try, though. I hear shouting near me, ignore it. She has to live, she has to—

  I press on Celia’s chest again, again, then lean over, press my mouth against hers and exhale. Breathe, please breathe…. I brace myself, waiting to hear Naida’s voice, waiting for her to cast me aside….

  She doesn’t.

  But Celia breathes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Celia

  I cough, gag. Water erupts from my throat and spills down my neck. I’m cold. I feel beaten, like my body is nothing but bruises. But air—I can breathe, I can breathe. I turn on my stomach, and more water pours from my lungs; I force a breath in. Another, another. I’m out of the water, I’m out, I’m alive. Jude pulled me out; he got to me in time.

  I can’t believe I’m alive.

  I turn onto my back again, panting, too tired to move; my eyes drift over and—

  She’s here, watching me with dark eyes. It wasn’t Jude who pulled me out; it was her. I can’t feel my limbs, but I try to back up; I push myself across the pavement, into a wall—the calliope, I realize, when I look to the side and see paintings of trees and birds. The little bit of effort leaves me winded, exhausted. When I look up, she’s holding up her palms, a surrender.

  “It’s all right,” she says, framed by the Ferris wheel behind her, like it’s some sort of halo.

  “Lo.” I can tell by her voice, by her eyes now that I look closer—

  Feet pounding on pavement—I look up to see Anne and Jane running toward me, hair whirling around them in the wind, eyes wild and angry. They don’t slow as they look from me to Lo, though their eyes widen at either her skin color or her nudity. I don’t have time to work out which it is—Jane runs, drops down beside me, and Anne charges into Lo, knocking her to the pavement. They collapse together; the concrete cuts them both up, but Anne is to her feet almost instantly with blood running from both knees.

  “Get away from her!” Anne shouts. “Jane, get her out of here!” Lo looks like a caged animal, crouched to the ground while Anne looms over her. Anne’s hands are drawn into fists, her eyes serious. Jane hauls me to my feet; I stumble and hear Anne shout again, Lo make some sort of hissing sound in response—

  “Stop!” I shout. Jane freezes. Anne doesn’t take her eyes off Lo to look back at me. “Stop.” Breathe, just breathe. “She saved me.”

  “She tried to drown you. We saw the whole thing from up by the pier.”

  “It was Naida,” Lo says, voice fallen as she presses against the wall, wary of Anne’s fury.

  “Where is Naida now?” I ask weakly, coughing as yet more water forces its way from my lungs. Anne turns to look at me, baffled, but says nothing.

  “She’s gone,” Lo answers.

  “Gone?” I meet her eyes; she swallows, nods. Lightning crashes, and the wind whistles through the rides. I can hear the waves, wonder how much of the shore they’ve consumed…. I close my eyes for a moment.

  Gone. She’s gone. It doesn’t seem real.

  “Will someone explain what’s happening?” Anne snaps, looking from me to Lo. Jane’s still holding on to my arms with a death grip; I shake her off.

  “It’s fine. It wasn’t her who tried to kill me. It was the other girl… in her head.” Saying that sounds just as stupid as I thought it would.

  “How do you know she isn’t lying?” Anne says darkly, glaring back toward Lo. Lo’s eyes flicker dangerously as Anne leans a little too close. I inhale, hold my breath—Anne’s anger pitted against Lo’s strength isn’t something I want to see.

  “I… I can tell. I can’t explain it—”

  “I don’t trust her. I know what I saw,” Anne says, unconvinced. She looks from me and Jane to the fence behind the calliope, where I realize our car is sitting, headlights still on.

  “Let me go or Jude will die,” Lo says suddenly, voice dark. We stare at her; her face is steady. “He was swimming behind me, but he isn’t here yet. He must still be in the water.”

  I inhale, panic, look at Anne. “Let her go!”

  “How do I know she won’t try to kill you again?” Anne snaps.

  “I…” I don’t know. I just believe she won’t. And that’s not going to be enough for my sisters.

  “I can tell,” Jane says shortly. She glances at me, rises. Jane trades places with Anne; my sisters look at each other warily, have a silent conversation I’m not let in on. Jane extends a hand to Lo. Lo looks at me, back to Jane, eyes cautious but daring. Finally, she reaches up, holds out her palm. Jane cringes as she lays her fingertips on Lo’s blue-toned skin. Anne tenses as Jane inhales, waits a moment, then draws her hand back.

  “She doesn’t want to kill us. Any of us. She wants to save Jude. She loves him—” She stops short, glances back at me. Lo looks down, closes her eyes.

  “I have to go now,” she says under her breath.

  “Go. Let her go!” I snap. Jane winces but finally steps back from Lo and the calliope. Lo leaps to her feet, moves to bolt, then turns—

  “If I change, Celia, if I go dark�
� be careful. Don’t trust me.” She looks from me to my sisters. “Remember what I said about twins?” She looks from me to my sisters grimly as I nod. “Triplets are even better.” She swiftly turns, sprints down the pier, and dives off the side, like we’ve set her free. I rise as she’s falling. Please find him, please find him—

  “What did she mean?” Anne asks, but Jane interrupts before I can answer.

  “And who are they?” Jane asks, pointing to the other side of the Ferris wheel. I narrow my eyes against the rain and look up.

  Moving toward the base of the pier, gazing out over the water, are people. A dozen or so, maybe more. The girls are tall and willowy, with long hair and sharp faces. The men are muscular and bare-chested. They watch the ocean like it’s telling them something, like it knows secrets they want. The man in front turns slightly to talk to the others, and even through the rain, I can see something on his chest. Rows and rows of scars, thick like the side of my hand and raised up off the skin.

  Naida’s memories rear up in my head, trample through my mind.

  I couldn’t forget this memory, the memory that ended in screaming, the memory that Naida buried deep down inside her. It’s them.

  The monsters that changed her.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Lo

  It’s hard even for me to move in the waves—no wonder Jude couldn’t make it out. I see him ahead, hurry forward, wincing as stray boards from the pier knock against me in the surf. I feel something stir in my core, something that wants to change, wants to let the storm take me away….

  No. No, I’m not done here. I have to save Jude. Faster, faster, swim faster. He’s slowing down, the storm is slowing me down—as much as the water is a part of me, the storm still makes it almost impossible to swim. Come on, a little farther, I’m almost there. Then suddenly there’s a head next to his, rising out of the water, hair still red enough to look like poison against the gray waves.