Black Waters
The Songstress Trilogy #1
by
Maija Barnett
Copyright ©2011 by Maija Barnett
https://maijabarnett.blogspot.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
1. An Unlucky Find
2. The Birthday Present
3. The Meeting
4. Confrontations
5. Entry
6. The Poseidon Stone
7. The Memory Swim
8. Revelations
9. The Hunt Continues
10. The Talisman
11. Snake Bite
12. The Memory Thief
13. The Test
14. Prison
15. Hunted
16. The Swim
17. The Shadowlands
18. Murder
19. The Ruse
20. Preservation
21. The Immovable Weight
22. Siren Song
1. An Unlucky Find
It was the night before Abby Carson’s sixteenth birthday. The midnight sky gleamed with stars and the tide cut into the frozen Clifton shoreline like a blade. Abby dunked her pinkie into the water before wading in. It was cold, too cold, right now at least. But the water off Cape Cod is notoriously cool, and soon she knew she wouldn’t care. Soon she wouldn’t feel the air, scarcely twenty degrees, or the water’s frigid bite. Abby adjusted her headlamp and gulped down a mouthful of air. Then, with a fleeting thought of her mother and brother, who lay sleeping in the family’s shore-side cottage, she forced herself into the sea.
Abby’s muscles spasmed. She forgot to breathe. Within seconds her feet were completely numb. Then it happened, like it always did. Her calves and thighs started to cramp, like something inside them had bent the wrong way. Then the cold was completely gone, and she was swimming, tail flicking through the darkness, the light from her headlamp showing the way.
“Be careful,” her mother always warned, wanting in her heart to stop Abby’s late night swims but knowing enough not to try. “And don’t forget about the sharks.”
Sharks, thought Abby. That’s all Matilda ever thinks about. That and what will happen if you ever got caught.
Abby understood her mother’s fears, but the pull of the sea was too strong to ignore. The few times she’d stayed away, a sickness had descended over her body, gnawing at her muscles, weakening her blood. She’d tried changing in the bathtub, and her tail had come, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t home. It’d gotten so bad she could barely stand, and so her father had carried her down to the beach and laid her in the frothy waves. She could still see the sadness in his eyes, and his hollow smile as he’d witnessed her change.
Abby hovered beneath the water’s surface. Her long hair, undone from its usual ponytail, floated out about her arms. She wished it were day so she could see, instead of relying on her measly headlamp. But this was the best she could do. She wasn’t stupid. She knew the risks. What might happen if anyone ever found out.
Where are they? she wondered, her ears straining through the darkness. Usually, she’d hear their squeaky calls reverberating through the water. Then there’d be a playful bump, a squeal. The dolphins loved sneaking up on her. They thought it was funny, and so did she. But tonight, nothing. The sea was silent, as if everyone had gone to sleep, or was hiding. She’d been out for nearly twenty minutes and had yet to see a single fish, turtle, or, god forbid, a shark. Something’s up. The dolphins know that I’m coming, thought Abby. Something isn’t right at all.
An engine’s hum cut through the stillness. Abby knew that sound. She knew all the motors and could identify each one before it got too close. She could tell the sporting boats from the fishing rigs, could read what was coming from over a mile away. Her hearing grew sharper once she entered the water, and she was glad for that. It kept her safe. For further protection, she’d memorized the shipping routes so she knew where to swim and when to be out. That’s why she usually came around midnight. There wasn’t much action, shouldn’t be any at all. So a sporting boat out at this time in the water. It was more than unusual. Something was wrong.
A low hiss hung above the motor. As the boat grew closer, the hissing intensified, as if it were feeding off of something, devouring it with its sound. What is that? thought Abby, her skin going cold, colder than it had when she’d first plunged into the icy Atlantic. Instinctively, she tried to hide. She flicked off her headlamp and ducked under the water. But she must have been listening for longer than she thought, because the boat was almost on top of her now, moving at an unnatural speed.
Then it came, a single splash. Something had fallen out of the boat and was sinking directly in front of her. Before Abby could stop herself, she reached out and grabbed it. She didn’t know why, she knew she should go. But something inside her was pulling her forward, forcing her toward the buzzing boat. She felt a bit like a marionette, with a total stranger pulling the strings. But here was the thing, she was holding it now, clutching its bony wrist in her hand. No, prayed Abby. This can’t be true. But the light of the boat high above showed her what she needed to know.
The body pulsed beneath the water, its face a twisted, bloodless mask. Abby wanted to drop it and swim, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t let go. Because the thing she was holding, the bony wrist, it belonged to a girl about her age. The girl’s hair swirled in a golden halo; the boat’s yellow lights illuminated it from above. And there was something else too, something on the girl’s neck. What is that? thought Abby, craning to see.
Suddenly the girl’s eyes snapped open and her mouth formed a large, blackened O. But instead of a scream rolling through the water, strange bubbles flooded out of her throat, bursting in dark pockets of blood. No! thought Abby, about to push the girl away. But she stopped herself, knowing it would be wrong.
Then she felt it, that first exploratory nudge. They had come already, were already here, circling in the murky deep. Matilda warned her every night and for once Abby actually wished she’d stayed home. A pale blur slid through the water, another nudge. It was time to go.
“I’m sorry,” mouthed Abby, hating herself as she shoved the dying girl out as far as she could. She looked back only once as she sped away, her throat tightening at what she saw. The shark was nearly twelve feet long. Its pale body gleamed like moonshine as it shook the body, tearing it apart. Great White, thought Abby, her gut starting to churn. Get out of here before it comes after you.
Abby darted through the darkness, her tail waving so furiously she thought her chest would explode. She swore she could feel them following her, as shadow upon shadow slipped through the deep. Once, she thought something knocked against her tail, but when she clicked on her headlamp, nothing was there. It’s just your imagination, she promised herself, uncertain if that were really true. Then she flicked the lamp off and continued down. She wanted the light, craved the safety of its rays, the same way she’d needed her night light as a kid. But she couldn’t risk it, not after what had happened above. No one could know she was here. No one could realize that she’d seen.
It was only at the ocean’s bottom that she felt comfortable using the lamp again. She turned it on and found a craggily rock formation jutting up from the sand. The world down here seemed innocuous enough, though Abby knew that wasn’t true. She rarely hung out on the ocean floor. There were creatures down here that you had to watch out for, and she didn’t want to become anyone’s dinner. Or breakfast for that matter.
It was early enough.
Come on, she thought as she swam past heads of dead coral, thick strips of rock and patches of sand. Come on, come on. Good, here we go. It wasn’t quite a cave, which was fine because with caves you never knew who was inside. It was really just a shallow impression at the base of a rock. But it had a slight overhang, enough of a protection. After making certain her hiding spot was empty, Abby flicked off her headlamp and tucked herself in, resigned to wait. She knew she couldn’t chance heading to the surface. Not now, not with that shark circling above—or the boat. Because whoever was up there might have seen her light, could be waiting for her to resurface again. She could still hear that horrible hissing sound, like needles scratching against her bones. When is that boat going to leave? she wondered. She had a feeling she’d be waiting for a very long time.
Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy) Page 1
