Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy)

by Maija Barnett

  * * * * *

  Brian stood for a moment, water seeping into his clothes, running in rivulets down his back. He couldn’t believe she was denying it. He knew what he’d seen. He knew what she was. Yet, suddenly he was starting to doubt himself. “No,” he whispered under his breath. “You did see. You know you did.” And besides, he thought, she met you, didn’t she? And what was that talk about killer songs? Is she some sort of sea witch or something? He wouldn’t put it past her. She had the beauty. She was so damn beautiful, she was hard to look at. He knew the other boys saw it, and the girls too.

  “Jesus,” said Brian running a hand through his hair. Then he turned and headed back to Emmett’s, shivering in the freezing rain.

  Abby’s face stayed behind Brian’s eyes, like a photo he couldn’t put away. He didn’t care what she wanted; he wasn’t giving up. He’d see her tomorrow during math. He promised himself to try and talk to her then. No, thought Brian, almost saying it aloud. He’d wait for her near the water, set up camp if he had to. And this time he wouldn’t just watch. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the time. Besides, he could use an excuse to get out of the house. Siren threats or not, he needed the truth. Just like Dad, he thought, picturing his father and the way his eyes had sparkled when he talked of the ocean’s mysteries. Though his father, in all his years of research, had never seen anything quite like this.

  It wasn’t until Brian was home in the shower, letting the TV in the bathroom play while he defrosted himself in the near scalding water, that he heard something that made his insides freeze. The Amber Alert, they had new information. A foot had washed up on the Clifton shore. Brian shoved the shower curtain aside and squinted at the tiny TV, perched on a shelf next to the sink.

  “It was a very strange morning for Lester Queens, whose dog, Joseph, found the foot,” began the reporter, her dirty blonde hair jammed beneath a red rain parka. They were obviously filming at the scene, and the sea simmered in the background, growling beneath the reporter’s words. “Though unwilling to confirm anything yet, Clifton police believe the foot may belong to Lauren Liney, the young girl who disappeared late Saturday night.”

  Brian’s skin switched from hot to cold. Saturday, he thought. Oh my god. It’d been early Sunday morning when he’d spotted Abby on the beach, when he’d discovered what she was.

  Brian leaped out of the shower and reached for his towel. It smelled like mildew, but he didn’t care. He jammed his damp body into his clothes and hurried down the stairs and toward the front door.

  He was almost there when he heard a cough. “Brian?” The sound of his name made him stop. His mother’s voice tugged him from behind, turning his insides to stone.

  “You going out?” her voice was gravelly thick, as if she’d been smoking and drinking though he knew that she hadn’t. She never drank, not even when they’d lost his dad. And she’d smoked in college, but not since then. A low growl slid from his throat as he remembered how his mom used to sound. Her bell-like laughter— all gone. It was Luther who’d turned her into this.

  “Mom,” said Brian, turning on his heels and staring down the darkened hallway and over to the kitchen bar.

  His mother sat hunched on one of the barstools, picking away at her ragged nails, her long, dark hair loose and wild. She’d never looked like this when Brian’s dad had been around. She’d been so neat, so on top of things. He didn’t know who she was anymore. He couldn’t understand what she’d become.

  “You leaving?” she asked, her voice scarcely a whisper. He had to take several steps closer to hear.

  “Yeah. Mom, are you okay?”

  “Sure am,” she said, smiling now, as if trying to harness some small stream of energy that lay stagnant inside her heart. “Go on Brian. Have fun with your friends. Luther will be home soon anyway.”

  An image of a gun flashed behind Brian’s eyes. A silver bullet, like in all those werewolf novels he’d pored over in junior high. That was exactly what Luther needed, a silver bullet straight in the heart.

  “You okay?” She asked, standing now. In her slippers, her shoulders barely grazed the top of the bar. She was small, smaller than Brian remembered. For a moment he wondered if she was shrinking. It wouldn’t surprise him; everything else about her was wrong. Don’t be an idiot, he thought. It’s you. You’re the one who’s grown. He was a good foot taller than he’d been three years ago when his dad had been sent away. Back then he’d still felt like a boy. Now he was almost six feet, the height of a man. He could look his stepfather in the eyes if he wanted. Which, of course, he didn’t.

  Brian remembered the last time he’d dared challenge Luther. The only time— he wouldn’t do it again. It was when they’d committed his dad to Bridgewater State. A life sentence: insanity without parole. His father had gotten the easy way out. Luther had seen to it, like he’d seen to everything. Bridgewater was a prison for psychos, but it wasn’t maximum security. It was a comfy and cozy insane asylum— if straitjackets and padded walls were your thing. But it wasn’t like going to Cedar Junction, where the really bad guys go.

  His dad had been convicted of murdering five other scientists in an attempt to keep the glory and wealth behind some supposed treasure find. Only Brian knew it made no sense. That wasn’t his father. His father would never do that. As far as he knew, his dad had never screwed over a single guy in his life. He was über compassionate. He wouldn’t even kill house flies. He’d just crack open the window and shoo them out.

  It’d all happened in Provincetown; Luther’d been chief there too. His Dad, who’d had summers off from the University of Maine, was exploring the waters off the tip of the Cape. But once the accident happened, everything was done. And it didn’t seem to matter that no one ever found the treasure. Luther’d got Dr. David Baker through the hoops of court without so much as a drop of sweat. Said he was doing him a favor, but Brian knew it was a lie. There were no favors, not when Luther was involved.

  And Brian had said so too, in front of everyone. He’d done it at the hearing. He’d screamed out the truth. That Luther had brainwashed the whole damn court. That it was some sort of mind game, a cover up. He’d kept telling himself to shut up, but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. Not until those strange, green eyes turned on him. The judge didn’t have to make him sit down because he’d already fallen into his chair, convulsing as he choked on his own spit. It was like there was an invisible vise around his neck, and all the while Luther’s eyes held him in check. Brian couldn’t breath. The tips of his fingers turned blue. And still those eyes continued to stare, trying their hardest to eat him alive.

  Later, his mom blamed his outburst on an overactive imagination combined with an exorbitant amount of stress. Too many horror books, that sort of thing. Salem’s Lot, I Am Legend, the whole batch was purged from his room by the time he got home. Of course, that was after spending two weeks in a psyche ward himself. Hospital grade, not prison. It was doctor’s orders, fueled by his mom’s new boyfriend’s insistence. Yes, Luther had moved in with Brian’s mom two weeks after the sentencing. She’d suddenly switched from loving his dad to doing whatever Luther wanted. And the Chief wanted her, that much was certain. Brian had still been committed, so his thoughts didn’t count. Not that he could have changed his mom’s mind anyway. And when she’d decided to marry him six months later, Brian had been afraid to do anything but go along.

  After Brian’s dad was put away, Luther’d moved Brian and his mom to Clifton. He’d claimed that he’d done it to make things easier, so they could forget their old life and start again. But Brian had found the whole thing kind of strange. Luther’d been in such a hurry to get out of Provincetown. Was he hiding from something? Brian didn’t know. Though he suspected that his stepfather wanted some distance from the crime scene. Some distance, but apparently not too much.

  It had been easy for Luther to land his new job, and now he was the most well-liked chief of police the town had ever known, at least according to
Brian’s mom. But Brian saw how some of the cops looked when they came over. Not the old set, they thought Luther was great. But the new ones, Luther liked to have them over for dinner the very first day they joined the force. Brian would watch them over steak and greens. (That’s what Luther liked to serve his new recruits.) They always looked a little too wary, like they weren’t quite sure how to act. Brian knew exactly how they felt: the word was scared.

  “When does Luther get off work?” asked Brian, making his voice come out as nonchalant as he could.

  “Shift’s over at five, so he should be home soon. But you never know, he could decide to stay late.”

  “Right,” said Brian. It was almost five now. Better go, before the chief got home. Chief of police, Brian could hardly believe it. Luther had more in common with the criminals than the cops.

  “Okay,” said Brian. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.” He glanced back at his mother’s face, and immediately wished he hadn’t. She was staring straight through him, and her eyes looked dead, as if all their sparkle had melted away.

  “Mom?” he stepped toward her again. She smiled vaguely then looked down at her hands.

  “Luther,” he whispered, hating his stepfather’s name, the way it burned acid on his tongue. I don’t know what he’s done to her, but when I find out, that man is dead. Right, thought Brian, like you have the nerve. Just focus on Abby. Think about her. You can worry about Luther another time.

  Brian forced his fear to the back of his mind, where it kept a permanent residence, and stepped out into the now drizzling night, grateful for something else to focus on. Anything to take his mind off his wonderful home life. And so what if it was the fact that the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, a girl who could turn into a fish, might also be murderer. “She’s not a killer,” whispered Brian, hoping it was true. “You just have to find out what she saw.”

  4. Confrontations

  Abby ran home in the pouring rain, Brian’s words swirling through her mind. She took the short cut down the beach, winding her way through the dunes until the sea was in her sights.

  Forget it, she thought, ignoring the beat of the waves, the way they pulled her toward their darkness, sent electrical charges through her blood. Just hurry up and get home already. Her breath streamed out between clenched teeth, and a cramp was beginning to knot in her side, like a monster’s claw digging in.

  When Abby finally made it home, Matilda’s car was parked in the driveway. The mustard colored Volvo, her parents’ fifteen-year anniversary gift to each other, glowered beneath the shadowed sky. Great, thought Abby, wishing she hadn’t run so fast. Matilda was the last person she wanted to see. Well, second to last, if she counted Brian.

  Abby swung open the front door, stepped inside, and was immediately accosted by a wave of hot air. The heat was on way too high. Matilda always did this when she was depressed. As if heat could somehow melt the ice that had crystallized around her heart. Shallow breaths, thought Abby, missing the ocean’s chill. Matilda had once set the thermostat at over 100. Abby just had to hope she hadn’t done that today.

  Abby peered down the dusky hall and into the living room. The curtains were drawn tight, and the only light was the one that came from the TV. It cast a bluish glow across the walls and painted Matilda’s face a silvery gray.

  Matilda was sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders, as she stared blankly at the screen. Say something, thought Abby. Start things off right. Maybe she’s not mad anymore. But the thickness of her mother’s silence kept Abby from saying a word.

  Abby slipped off her raincoat and stepped out of her boots before realizing Matilda was watching the news. She was surprised that her mother had the TV on. That had to be a new low for Matilda. She usually only watched during meals, and that was pretty much for distraction, so she didn’t have to think about who wasn’t there. Abby couldn’t understand why Matilda was even home. On Mondays her mother taught until eight o’clock, and, right now, it couldn’t be much past five.

  “Another girl’s missing,” said Matilda, glancing up, her thin face taut with fear. At first Abby thought she meant Lauren Liney, but it wasn’t like that was anything new. Matilda had heard about that over the weekend, and it hadn’t seemed to bother her then, at least no more than it had anyone else.

  “It’s a student of mine.” Matilda’s voice was flat. “The administration alerted us, and I canceled my classes. It hasn’t even made the news yet.”

  There was a commercial on now, but Abby couldn’t hear it. A strange buzzing sound was filling her head, as if a thousand hornets had hatched in her skull and were furiously searching for a way out.

  “Who?” said Abby, stepping closer to hear, though she wasn’t really sure she wanted to know. She hadn’t met any of her mother’s students in person, but the way Matilda prattled on about them made Abby feel like she had.

  “Jennifer Ryan from my Cooking II. She hasn’t been seen since Sunday afternoon. Jennifer is a very punctual person—there’s no explainable reason why she’d just disappear.” Matilda’s voice crackled like breaking glass, and the buzzing in Abby’s head intensified.

  A dull ache spread through Abby’s gut. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help how she felt. She just couldn’t stand the look on Matilda’s face, like Jennifer Ryan was her actual child. She wishes she were, thought Abby bitterly. I bet she never tells her students anything about me.

  “Maybe she took a trip somewhere,” Abby offered, shoving her feelings aside. But the moment she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. The boat, she thought. The sound in the water. Oh my god, I’m going to be sick.

  “I don’t think so,” said Matilda, glancing up. Her eyes were bloodshot and crusty looking.

  Wow, thought Abby, staring at her mother. She looks even more terrified than when I showed up late.

  A thin, blonde reporter was on TV. Abby had to strain to make out the woman’s words. “Breaking new,” said the reporter, and then Abby heard the girl’s name, and something about a potential serial killer. The reporter went on about how the foot that police had previously suspected to be Lauren Liney’s, had washed up at a time when it was far too cold for anyone to enter the water willingly. The police were suspicious, and now a new girl was missing. Forensics were working to determine whom the foot really belonged to. It could be either girls’ now. Nobody knew.

  “No.” Abby tried to swallow, but a caustic heat was simmering inside her. She knew without a doubt that it wanted out now.

  “I’ve gotta go,” croaked Abby, as she raced to the door. Matilda didn’t say a word.

  Outside the air was refreshingly cool. Abby’s stomach felt better immediately, and the buzzing in her head began to fade. But the ocean’s pull was on her now— fierce and angry. She couldn’t keep away.

  Abby started sprinting toward the beach, charging through oceans of puddles, relishing the feel of raindrops on her face. Her stomach lurched when she saw the sea, and the roar of the waves pulsed in her blood. Her need to get in overrode her senses, and she forgot to worry about being seen. But it was dusk already and the beach was deserted. She knew she didn’t have much to fear, not that she could stop herself anyway. She tore off her raincoat and pants as she stumbled forward, knowing she could find them later. She left her boots in a heap at the edge of the shore.

  Her legs twisted when she entered the water, spinning her down into the surf. She felt the funny, brittle cramp, and then her tail was beating behind her, pushing her into the deep. Her loose shirt billowed around her, and she tore it off so she could see. Even her bra felt cumbersome now. She didn’t want anything touching her skin. She needed to swim like she always did, when things were the way they were supposed to be.

  With a flick of her tail she was flying, her ears straining for the dolphins’ sounds. Go deeper, she thought. She headed down, then out across an expanse of black. She had to find them; she needed them now. For they were the only ones who knew her,
who really understood what she was.

  Oooeee, eee, eee. They were calling. They’d sensed her entry. They knew she was here. Oooeee, eee, eee. Her jaw tightened. She knew that sound: a long and two shorts. It was the warning cry; the cry of the shark. Or possibly of something else.

  Suddenly, the sound was gone, and a strange stillness filled the water. Something’s wrong. Something’s coming, thought Abby. The words screeched through her mind, punishing her for coming back in. But she could sense movement, feel it crawling around her, like a city of ants taking root in her skin.

  Abby shot back toward the beach, carving her way through the deep. Get out, she thought. You have to get out now.

  She was almost there; she could hear the surf. The waves let out a scream as she fought her way forward. And then she heard it— the terrible hissing, cold and hollow, coiling around her bones. Lauren Liney’s face flashed through her mind: the ruby bubbles, the pleading eyes. Go, thought Abby. It’s coming now. She whipped around, but nothing was there. Still, the hissing was louder, turning her insides to ice. She beat her tail as hard as she could and launched herself onto the shore.

  And then she was clawing up handfuls of sand, as she dragged herself out of the water. Abby closed her eyes and laid her head on the beach. Her throat burned raw with every breath, and the change hadn’t happened, wasn’t going to yet. Not if the rain continued to fall, not if she didn’t have a way to dry off. Slowly, she raised her head off the sand and scanned the beach for her coat and boots. Yes, there was her coat, not too far from the dunes, but her boots? She couldn’t make them out in the sand.

  Oh god, thought Abby, how could you be so dumb? What were you trying to prove?

  Of course she hadn’t been planning on coming out so soon. She’d meant to stay under until it was late, just to make certain no one would see. Her fear of discovery surfaced again, but it couldn’t compete with the thing in the water, which may or may not be able to crawl up on land.

  “Abby, are you all right?” A warm hand rested on her arm. Abby opened her eyes and relief spilled through her, relief that it was Brian who was staring at her, and not some monster from the deep. But her relief turned from fear to complete mortification as she watched him glance down at her long, silver tail flashing uselessly on the sand. A raw heat spread across her face. She didn’t even have anything to wrap herself in. She was completely exposed, in every way.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Go away.”

  “Are you hurt?” asked Brian, his hand still on her arm. “You looked like you were trying to get away from something. I’ve never seen anyone swim like that.”

  “Do you know any other mermaids?” Abby squeaked. She started to sit up, but when she saw his eyes widen, she remembered her bra. Oh, why did you have to ditch all your clothes? she thought, hurling herself back down on the sand.

  Brian ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he said, slipping off his coat and carefully draping it over her back.

  “Thanks,” she whispered, her cheeks still hot. She folded the fabric tightly around her, then pulled herself into a sitting position. Her tail stuck out like the carcass of a fish. Go away, she prayed. Just walk away now. Let me do this on my own.

  Not gonna happen, she thought as he sat down beside her, starting to shiver from the cold. She glanced up at the sky. The rain had stopped, but darkness was quickly moving in. She was surprised Brian had seen her out in the surf. No one should have noticed unless they’d been looking. Yes, she thought, glancing over at him. That’s exactly what he was doing. He was spying on you.

  Anger surged through Abby, but she resisted the urge to scream at him. She knew she couldn’t scare him away, and there was no way she could hide from him anymore.

  “You followed me.” She crunched down on her lip. It still hurt, but she didn’t care. She wanted to toss his coat in his face, but she was too embarrassed by what he would see. Besides, she couldn’t just sit here, tail flopping on the sand like some sort of crazed beached whale. She wished she could cover it, hide it away. The way it shone in the dusky light reminded her of the monster hidden within. But then it came: the familiar twitching, the strange cramping sensation, and it was gone.

  Abby sighed and tucked her legs beneath her, ignoring the shocked look on Brian’s face. Then she stood, and the wind beat at her body, as she clutched Brian’s coat around her like a shield.

  Say something she thought. Fix this now. But her lips wouldn’t budge. Her mind was stuck. She waited for him to make the first move.

  “Well,” said Brian, standing too, his eyes aimed straight at her.

  “What are you doing here?” asked Abby, her clipped tone ringing sharp in her ears.

  Brian broke his gaze and glanced out toward the breakers, beating away at the shore. Then he took a deep breath and leaned in close, his lips almost grazing her cheek. Abby fought the urge to pull away, but she made herself freeze. She wanted to hear. “Looking for you,” he replied.

  Abby stared out at the ocean, wishing she were underneath. But then she remembered the thing in the water. The dolphins’ warning. The emptiness there.

  “I have to ask you something,” said Brian, he was staring again, his dark eyes searing her skin.

  “What,” she said. “What do you want?”

  “I heard something on the news today, and I need to know about last time— that morning I saw you on the beach.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair, then took another deep breath and began again. “The morning I saw you, a girl disappeared. You don’t know anything about that do you?” His words came out in a tumbled rush, but his eyes were steady, taking her in.

  Abby wanted to make a run for it, to lunge, screaming into the waves. But, for some strange reason, she couldn’t move. Her body had inexplicably turned to wood, her feet rooted to the freezing sand.

  “You knew her,” said Brian, stepping back, taking her silence for what it was.

  “No I didn’t. That’s not true.”

  “But you saw her that night.”

  “Who are you, the police?”

  “You’re involved,” said Brian. His voice was small. “I can’t believe it. You’re actually involved.”

  Suddenly, Abby broke free. Before she even knew what was happening, her feet were pounding down the beach, Brian’s jacket beating behind her like a sail. She ran until she thought her lungs would burst, willing herself home again.

  But she could hear him coming up from behind, his footsteps like gunshots in her ears. The water was her only escape, but she didn’t dare face what was waiting there. A million Brian Bakers were better than that.

  “Let me go!” screamed Abby, as he grabbed her arm, jerking her backward, across the sand. Her head crashed into his chest, and then his arms were around her, his fingers digging into her skin.

  “You know,” he said, and his voice was hard. Abby’s insides twisted. She fought the urge to cry.

  He had her by the shoulders now. She thought he was going to shake her, but he just stood there, holding on tight.

  “I need to know.” His voice was hoarse. “I need to know what you saw.”

  Abby tried to pull away, but she couldn’t outrun him. Besides, he already knew. What was there to run from now?

  “I tried to save her,” Abby pleaded. “I tried, but I couldn’t make it stop.”

  “Make what stop?” said Brian, relaxing his grip.

  And then the words tumbled out. She couldn’t hold them in; she didn’t know how.

  “She fell out of a boat and there was blood everywhere. Then a shark came, and I had to go. There was nothing I could do.”

  “You left her to die?” Brian sounded appalled.

  “It’s not like I killed her! I just couldn’t help!”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “No, I don’t know anything. What do you want from me? What do you need?”

  Silence. He let her go, his hands dropping to his sides.

  “I d
on’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know.”

  And then he was really looking at her. Not as a thing, some sort of monstrosity, but as something else entirely. As a girl, thought Abby. Why does he look so sad?

  “I’m sorry,” said Brian, glancing away. “I don’t know why I acted like that. You look cold. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  She let him lead her up the beach, hunting her clothes down as they went. Together they tromped over the wooden bridge that cut through the dunes and into the parking lot, which was empty except for Brian’s rusted out Camry. Part of her wanted to run again, but she no longer had the energy. Besides, Brian’s hand was firm on her wrist. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  Matilda is going to kill me, thought Abby. Her mother’s face stuck in her mind all the way to Brian’s car.