Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy)

by Maija Barnett

  * * * * *

  The light was growing stronger now. Abby found herself sprinting through the water, arms extended, following the beam. She had no idea where the winding green pathway would lead her, but she desperately wished that Eleanor were here. Only every time she called the siren’s name, all that replied was her own frantic heart.

  Where is she, thought Abby. She said she’d show me the way. Abby gripped the thing that used to be the mermaid box even tighter when she realized that maybe Eleanor had. Only it would have been nice if the showing had involved language too. Then she might not have felt so alone.

  A cramp knotted in her side, and Abby begrudgingly slowed her pace. Shouldn’t I be there already? she wondered. How much further am I supposed to go?

  But then she heard it in the water, a cacophony of voices, their tone haunting and low. Somehow she knew they were calling to her, urging her farther into the ocean’s abyss.

  Deeper and deeper down she went. Her ears popped, and her head started to ache. Abby had no idea how far down she was, but it was definitely deeper than she’d ever gone before. Briefly, she wondered if she could withstand the pressure, but she was built for these waters so she guessed that she could. Where am I going, she wondered, the ocean floor? Then the humming inside her rose to a howl and burst in a single, resounding “Yes!”

  “Too the deep,” crooned the voices, a cool, blur of sound. “Too the deep, little sister. You’re almost there.”

  Almost, thought Abby, propelling herself forward while trying to ignore the lead weight in her chest. But then she saw it— a huge outcropping of rock that rose up from the bottom like a leviathan waiting to devour its prey. The thing that used to be a box pounded frantically in her hands. Bright, green pulses shot from its surface, lighting the rock wall ahead.

  “Down,” crooned the voices, in harmony now. “Down, little sister.” Abby dove.

  It felt like she’d been swimming forever, like she was diving into the center of the earth. The water around her was completely black, save for the green light that the box was giving off, and her body was going numb from the cold.

  Keep going, thought Abby. Do it for Brian. His face flashed behind her eyes— blue-gray lips, ashen skin. She had to help him. There was no other way.

  But no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, doubt was beginning to creep through her mind. Because where was Eleanor? Shouldn’t she be here by now? Maybe she was part of the chorus of voices. No, thought Abby, she isn’t here. Whoever it was that was guiding her, it wasn’t Eleanor. Eleanor had left her all alone. Anger pooled in Abby’s gut, but she kept on swimming, following the wall as it plunged toward the ocean’s floor.

  Suddenly the voices boomed in her ear, a tidal way of guttural sound. “Stop,” they cried, and Abby froze, as the gooey thing that used to be a box began to spasm in her hands.

  The voices inside her were moaning now: “Stop! Stop, the door is here!” Abby moved closer to the wall, but there was nothing there. Just a slab of rock over fifty feet wide, glowing green in the box’s ominous light.

  “Find the spot,” crooned the voices. “Find it now!” A tremor of urgency shot through their tone. “Move closer, so the key can see.”

  Okay, thought Abby. Closer, okay. She swam as close to the wall as she could, keeping the shoelace around her neck while holding they key out in front. But this meant she had to hold the mermaid box in one hand, and it squirmed and wiggled and squished through her fingers, doing its best to make an escape. It was all she could do not to let it fall.

  What am I doing here? she wondered, her skin prickling in frustration and fear. But then she felt it. The key was guiding her now. Its green eye caressed the rock as it searched for the keyhole in which to submerge.

  Suddenly, the shoelace cut into the back of her neck, and the key shot to the right. Abby gasped as something sliced into her forehead, and then her eyes were blinded by a cloud of blood. “No,” she moaned, grimacing from the pain as she banged down the rock’s craggily face, her body smashing against it like a toy on a string.

  Wait! thought Abby. Stop it! Help! She was spinning sideways now, her right hand gripping the mermaid box, while her left fought to loosen the shoelace around her neck, as it gnawed its way toward her bone.

  Abby tried to control her fear, as the cut in her neck continued to deepen. It wasn’t the pain that was scaring her now, but the fact that she knew how fast blood travels through water, and what would be drawn by the smell.

  Eleanor, she prayed, help me now. Please don’t make me do this alone! And then, without warning, the key stopped. The jolt was so sudden that Abby lurched forward and smashed into the side of the rock. Her right hand was crushed on impact, and her wrist and knuckles hit with such force that the mermaid box dropped from her hand.

  No! thought Abby, but it was too late. The box was spinning through the darkness. Its green light flashed once and then went out.

  The world around her went almost completely black. Luckily, the key’s eye was still open, and a thin strand of green light slid from its pupil, illuminating part of the wall. But it wasn’t enough, not at all. Even if she dared move away from the rock, she would never be able to find the box in the dark. Besides, as far as Abby could tell, the key was stuck in the hole. She tried using both hands to jerk it out, but she couldn’t get it to budge.

  “Help!” she screamed, forgetting where she was. Salty water slid down her throat, burning its way into her lungs.

  “Little sister,” said the voices, calmer this time. “You’re almost there. The box is gone, but you don’t need it anymore. It led you here, and now you have us. Hurry! You must open the lock. Then you can come inside.”

  Almost where? thought Abby. What do they mean?

  “Look,” said the voices. “The key! The key!”

  Abby squeezed herself closer to the wall, and the shoelace grew slack again. Chin pointed toward her chest, she eyed the key sticking into the rock face, its green eye glowing weakly in the dark.

  “Turn,” moaned the voices in her head. “Turn little sister. You are almost inside.”

  Okay, thought Abby, grabbing the key. You can do this. It’s just like a door. It took all her strength to turn the key. She was about to slip the thing off her neck so she could get a better grip when the voices inside her cried out no.

  “Leave it on little sister. You can’t lose that too. Then you will never get inside.” Then a slab of rock began sliding sideways, moving on it own volition, its rumble heavy as a giant’s snore. Abby yanked at the key and it slid out of the keyhole, too easy this time, like it wanted to go. But once out, its light began to fade. Soon her world was completely dark.

  “Go, little sister,” the voices called. “Enter the tunnel. We’ll lead the way.”

  I can’t, thought Abby, panic hitching in her chest. She clung to the wall, unsure what to do.

  “There’ s no other way. You must swim through the passage. It will take you to the Shadowlands, for that is where your job must be done. Go now, before he comes. For the Hunter stalks you even now. Our queen cannot hold him off much long. Quickly, soon the door will close.”

  Abby strained to make out something in the blackness. But all she could see was the empty sea. Except that she knew the monster was out there somewhere, hunting her down, waiting to strike. And who was this queen they were talking about? Was it Eleanor? Abby was sure that it was. That’s why she isn’t here, thought Abby, relief rushing through her frozen limbs. She was helping me all along.

  Abby took a deep breath, bit down once on her lip, then waved her arms out in front of her. Her hand slipped into the space in the rock.

  “Go,” said the voices. “Do not wait. You’ve found the tunnel. Swim inside.”

  And so Abby forced herself into the darkness, her fingers scratching against the sides of the tunnel as she navigated by feel alone. Once she’d entered, the rock door slid shut behind her, and she was inside the watery mountai
n, alone at the bottom of the sea.

  17. The Shadowlands

  Abby slid through the narrow tunnel, her body scraping against its sides. She cringed as her scales began to slough off, trying not to cry as she pushed on. Please, she begged, straining for the voices. Talk to me now. Tell me what to do. But all she could hear was a rising humming, a throbbing that broke through her mind in waves.

  The water was growing warmer now, and the temperature change soothed her aching limbs. Almost there, she thought, hoping it was true. Please, please, let me get there soon.

  “Eleanor,” she called. Silence greeted her. There was no one to speak to, no one would help. She half swam, half crawled into the heat, her eyes straining through the blackness, searching for something to see.

  For several long minutes she peered into the darkness, but it wasn’t until she’d contorted herself around a narrow turn that her eyes finally made out something real. At first Abby thought it was her imagination, an illusion because she needed to see. But no, there it was, a thin ray of light shining through the silty water. It looked like moonshine inside the cave.

  “Yes little sister,” the voices boomed, their humming swelling into words again. “Follow the light. It is the only way.” Abby clawed forward, crunching down on her tongue as ribbons of skin ripped from her tail. Yes, she thought. There it is. The ray of light; it was shining through. It seemed to be coming from a chink in the wall. Another door? wondered Abby. She hoped she could get through.

  “The key,” moaned the voices. “Use it now.”

  This time, ignoring the voices’ warning, Abby slid the shoelace off her neck, and, wrapping it tightly around her wrist, placed it on the wall of the cave. Immediately, it darted over the rock face, dragging her along for the ride. No, thought Abby, bracing herself. Only the search was short and quick. With a jerk, the key had found the keyhole. Abby crammed herself up against the tunnel’s sides, straining as she worked to turn the key.

  No, thought Abby, as the key bit into her hand. She couldn’t move it. It wouldn’t budge. Forgetting where she was, she let out a cry and then gagged as seawater tore down her throat, burning her from the inside out.

  What are you doing? thought Abby. Start using your head! Because even though she was breathing through her gills, she wouldn’t survive if she ruined her lungs. She needed her human body intact if she wanted to make it on land again.

  “Turn!” the voices howled in her head. “Turn little sister!” But it was too hard.

  I can’t, she whimpered in her mind. I can’t make it work. The lock is jammed.

  Panic flooded through her, but she kept on trying. She didn’t know what else to do. Then, suddenly, hands were all around her. Hands and arms as pale as milk, disconnected from actual bodies, slid like silk over her own. A chill spread through her when they grazed her skin, and yet she couldn’t pull away.

  The voices moaned inside her head: “Turn, little sister. Turn with us now!” More hands appeared, glowing around her. They were everywhere— on her arms, her head, twisting themselves through the roots of her hair.

  “Wait!” she cried, speaking with her mind. They were pulling her down, their heavy fingers forcing her to the floor. But then she felt a sharp jolt of power, like a bolt of lightening driving through her blood. A smoky taste filled her mouth, blackening her throat and the backs of her gums.

  “Now!” howled the voices. She turned the key.

  “Yes!” they cried, and the door slid open, roaring like an erupting volcano. The tunnel was filled in milky light.

  Abby scrubbed at her eyes then searched for the spirits, but they were gone. She was alone.

  “Take the key,” said the voices. “Take it now.”

  “Where are you?” called Abby. There was no response.

  Gingerly, Abby slid the key from the lock and let it fall back around her neck. She was tired; the turning had drained her. The spirits’ strength had leached from her body, and it was all she could do not to curl up and sleep.

  “Go,” moaned the voices, softer again. “Swim little sister.” They were fading away. Abby listened as their words melted into nothing. And then she was alone.

  Swim, swim. You have to do what they said. And then she was swimming toward the light, struggling through the milky water that flowed all around her, warm as blood.

  Come on, she thought. You can make it to the shore. Abby pushed herself on, ignoring the pain that sliced from the middle of her right thigh to the tip of her tail. She was swimming blindly. There was no way to see, for the water around her wasn’t water at all, but a white substance as thick as cream. It stuck in her gills; she could barely breathe.

  The surface, thought Abby. Get up there now! A spark of comprehension shot through her, as she swam up through the strange, creamy fluid. Her lungs expanded uncomfortably wide, as she broke through the surface, gasping for air. It’s the Shadowlands, thought Abby. Just like in your dream. But that realization slipped from her mind once she saw the rocky shoreline. Not far, she thought. You just have to swim. She strained for the voices, but they were gone.

  Abby sobbed when she finally pulled herself onto the beach, her silvery tail bloody and raw. Opaque sunshine drifted down from above, but the land around her was devoid of color, its rocky shore speckled in shades of gray.

  The beach, she thought. You made it to the beach. Abby glanced down at her naked torso and immediately wished she had something to wear. Or at least something she could use to wipe her tail off with because now all she could do was drag herself over the pebbles, her blood leaching into the ground as she waited to dry.

  The sea was just like the one she’d seen in her dreams, only the land looked completely wrong. But then Abby remembered Eleanor’s comment about Duat, the island inhabited by the ghosts of sirens and those touched by their magic. Is this the place? Abby wondered. And if it is, then where’s Brian? Shouldn’t he be here now? Abby blinked hard, and took in her surroundings. But there really wasn’t much to see.

  She was lying on the shore of what she guessed was an island. The sand around her was littered with rocks. A drab forest took up where the beach left off, its frail trees overwrought with thorny vines. The forest climbed, tapered, then all but disappeared as the ground rose into a bald peaked mountain, its stubbly body dotted in rogue trees. The peak hung several hundred feet above the shoreline, and below its patchy, scarred face, the land dropped into a cliff.

  The only thing of any interest to Abby was the dense sheet of mist that hovered over the water, thick and white and reaching toward the sky. She could see its surface undulating in the light as black shadows coursed inside its walls. Abby’s stomach flipped as it began to slink forward, its spindly fingers reaching for her, just as they had in her dreams.

  A bullet of fear shot through her chest, and she stretched her tail in the wind to dry. “Change,” she begged. “Change for me please!” The mist was moving faster now, speeding forward, over the sea. She had to get up, she had to move before she was lost in its creamy whiteness, trapped with the shadows hissing her name.

  A sharp cry rose from the mountain’s peak, and a blood red raven circled above. “Eleanor,” gasped Abby, tail still flapping on the rocks. “Eleanor help!” And then it began— the strange cramping sensation, her bones splitting apart. She grimaced in pain, waiting for it to be done. It had never felt like this before, and the pain worried her, filled her with dread. It was only when she glanced down at her legs that she could see why the change had hurt so much.

  Her scales must have hidden the severity of the cut, or perhaps she had been so focused on waiting for the change, that she’d managed to block it out. A bloody gash sliced from the middle of her right thigh to her ankle, so deep she could actually see the bone. No, she thought. This isn’t happening now. She tried to stand, but the pain was too much.

  “Eleanor!” shrieked Abby, and the bird dove toward her, its caw so sharp she had to cover her ears. Hurry, thought Abby,
glancing down the beach. But then she saw them coming toward her: two thin figures, pale as ghosts, their bodies luminescent in the milky light. “Eleanor?” said Abby as they continued forward, their feet barely touching the rocky shore. “Eleanor, please!” They were almost here.

  Abby’s insides twisted in dread, and her eyes widened as the two figures approached. She searched for a good-sized rock, some sort of protection. Not that anything could really help her in the condition she was in.

  At first it was impossible to make out their faces, which were completely blurred out by the light. They moved as if they were made out of water; their bodies fluid, not human at all. But as they drew closer, they hardened somehow, their gleaming forms dulling into skin and bone.

  With a scream the red bird was at Abby’s side, its sharp beak open, wingspan six feet across. It stood by Abby’s mangled leg, green eyes peering into her face.

  “Abby,” croaked the bird. “You made it at last.”

  Abby couldn’t speak; her eyes were locked on the figures. Their features were still distorted somehow, like she was viewing them through dirt-encrusted glass. But the closer they moved, the clearer they became. She gave out a cry when she saw who they were, and her whole body shook as she held out her hands.

  Her father stood facing her on the shore. No longer carrying the stain of cancer, he was healthy and fit. Dark curls clung to his head. And there stood Brian next to him.

  Even through her pain, Abby remembered her nakedness. She couldn’t let them see her, not like this. Quickly, she stretched her long hair over her body so that everything was covered, though she wished she could do more. A burning blush spread over her face. She wanted to hide, curl up in a ball, but it hurt too much to even move.

  Somehow her father read her mind. He took off his coat and laid it across her, but when he did so, panic soared high in her throat. Dank, earthy tones flooded her nostrils, and when she looked down she saw that she was covered in a shroud. “No,” she whispered, trying to shake the thing off, but the pain was too much. There was nothing she could do.

  “Fix her,” squawked Eleanor, glaring at Abby’s father now. “It is what you remained for. Then you must go.”

  Her father crouched at Abby’s side, his eyes on her face, taking her in. He looked different somehow, and it had nothing to do with his health. At first she couldn’t place it, but then she noticed his eyes. Green, they were green like Eleanor’s. In life his eyes had been a pale blue-gray. But his face was the same, and when he sat beside her, it was all she could do not to grab him and sob.

  “Daddy?” said Abby. He nodded his head, tears welling in his eyes.

  “Honey, I’m sorry.”

  “Fix her now!” Eleanor commanded. “Hurry, we’re almost out of time.”

  Abby looked up and noticed that the mist’s movement had slowed. But its pale white tendrils still snaked over the water, and she could hear the shadowy hiss of the monsters encased inside its milky shell.

  “Brian?” said Abby, glancing over at him. But when she said his name, he turned away.

  “Daddy, what’s happening?” She placed her hand on his arm. It was solid now, but very cold. Not like a living man’s at all.

  “Daddy, what are you?”

  “You know what I am.” His looked down as he caught her chin in his hand. “I’m sorry I did this.” His voice was a whisper. “Abby, I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Your bag,” croaked Eleanor. “Get your bag. You must heal her now, before it’s too late.”

  “Heal me?” said Abby.

  “I’m a doctor, remember?” He grinned and at her in that unselfconscious way he’d had for as long as she could remember. Even when the cancer had eaten him away, every time she and Jake had visited, he’d turned it on. Back then it had made her want to cry.

  From nowhere, a bag appeared at his side. Not the black briefcase he’d used when he was alive, but a wrinkled, old-fashioned medicine bag. Its tattered handles clung to a round leather pouch that looked like it’d been sewn from human skin. A sickening sensation slid through Abby, and for a second she wanted to run away. That is, if she’d been able to run at all.

  “Daddy?” she whimpered, wanting to tell him to stop. But it was too late, he was already undoing the satchel and removing several clear bottles about the size of his hand. Then the stink of antiseptic cut through the air and Abby squeezed her eyes shut as the stench brought her back.

  She remembered the pool, felt the water on her skin, as her father’s words slid past the hunchback. He’d promised her they’d stop when they found a cure. But they hadn’t. There was nothing they could do.

  “Sweetie,” said her father. “This is going to hurt.” Before Abby could say single word, something wet touched her thigh and then her leg was on fire. She let out a scream, as her father grabbed her hand and told her to squeeze as hard as she could. For a second, she worried she might hurt him. Then she remembered he was already dead.

  A medicinal smell filled her lungs, as her father poured another bottle over her leg. “No!” cried Abby, convulsing on the ground. He was down at her leg now, rubbing at her skin, as whatever it was that had been in his bottles sank its teeth into her bones.

  “It’s superficial now,” said her father, turning to Eleanor, who was still in bird form. Her green eyes sparkled like broken glass. The pain had already begun to recede. Abby took a deep breath and stared up at the sky. She wished that Brian would hold her hand. But he stood aloof, face pointed toward the sea, while she lay splayed out on the beach, exposed in every way.

  “Daddy,” moaned Abby. It was all so familiar. His eyes met hers, and she knew he felt it too.

  “Abby, I’m sorry.” He took her hand in his.

  “Better?” croaked Eleanor, her neck arched like a question.

  “Yes,” said her farther. “She’ll be fine.”

  Abby tried to push herself up off the rocks, but her father gently held her down. “It’s too early,” he whispered. “Let the medicine do its trick. You have work to do, and you’ll need all your strength.”

  “Daddy,” said Abby, grabbing his arm. “Did you know about this? Did you know what I would become?” His silence told her that he had.

  “Tell her,” croaked Eleanor. “Time is short. Don’t forget, you’ll be leaving us soon.”

  “Leaving?” said Abby. He squeezed her hand. “But you just got here.” He looked away.

  “Abby,” said her father pulling her close, just like he had when she was small and had fallen on the playground or off of her bike.

  “You’re not sick,” she mumbled, pulling away. “Daddy what are you?” She met his gaze.

  “Abby, honey, you know what I am. And this place— I don’t have long to stay. But I’ll give you a message to take back home. Tell your brother how proud I am of him.” Her father’s voice started to fade as he spoke, but he continued on as if nothing were wrong. “I know I spent all my energy on you, searching for a cure, but I couldn’t stop. I felt guilty, honey, for giving this to you. Because it’s my genes that caused it; mine alone. But your brother, just tell him I loved him too. Tell him, please. I don’t want him to forget.”

  “And mom?” asked Abby, holding her breath, the word still foreign on her tongue. She reached forward and grabbed her father’s hand, but this time all she felt was air.

  “Daddy!” cried Abby. He was fading away. “Eleanor, make it stop!”

  But the scarlet raven just cocked her head, her green eyes glowing as she took everything in. “I can’t my dear,” squawked Eleanor. “He’s completed his task. He saved your life. That was the reason he waited so long. His spirit, it couldn’t leave this place, not until he was sure you were safe.”

  “But he can’t leave now!” Abby’s voice was shrill. “I’m not safe yet. I haven’t made it home.” Her father began to separate into sheets of dust, his eyes locked on her face as she watched him go.

  “Abby,” he whispered, his voice almost lost in t
he wind. “My time has passed. I’m so sorry now. All the secrets, the tests— I should have left you alone.”

  “Daddy, don’t go!” But it was too late. She could see the water behind his face. She held out her hand, but the wind picked up. He shimmered once, and then he was gone.

  “No,” wailed Abby. “Eleanor no!”

  The raven’s feathers were a squirt of blood, as she catapulted herself into the air. When Abby looked up, she could hardly see her at all, just a tiny speck of red on gray. All she had now was Brian’s face. His deep, brown eyes gleamed with fear as he stared at the spot where her father once stood.

  “He’s gone,” whispered Brian, twisting his hands as if trying to wring something free.

  Abby wrapped her father’s shroud around herself, and slowly rose to her feet. But when she stepped toward Brian to comfort him, he leaped back as if he’d been stung.

  “Brian please.” He wouldn’t look at her. “Brian!” And then Eleanor was back.

  The red bird stood at the rim of the sea, her green eyes baring into Abby, head cocked to the side as she spoke. “We must go, little sister. The shadows are brewing. We must get to the mountain where you’ll make your stand.”

  “My stand?” said Abby, fear cold in her chest. “I came here for Brian. I’m taking him back.”

  “Yes,” cawed Eleanor, “but only after your fight. For you cannot gain entry back through the passage until the serpents are extinct. Look at the water, little sister. The mist is blocking the only way out. If you refuse to do my biding, then you cannot save your beloved, and he will fade into nothing just like your father. So now you must fly with me, little sister. There is no time to waste.”

  “And Brian?” cried Abby. “We can’t just leave him here.”

  Eleanor shot her a squinty look. “Spirits like him aren’t built for flight. He’ll meet us above, if he likes. But you, my dear, you are touched by magic. Now you can fly. Now you can soar.”

  In a second Eleanor’s beak was at Abby’s throat. Abby winced at the quickness from which the bird drew blood.

  “What are you doing?” yelled Brian, charging toward them, his dark eyes flashing, fists ready to fight. But he’d gone only yards before she felt the change.

  Eleanor’s cackle rose screechy and harsh as Abby crumpled like a paper bag.

  “Help me!” yelped Abby, her voice caught in her throat. “No!” she screamed, as it morphed into a caw. “Eleanor wait!” but she was shrinking. Her body was squishing into itself, arms sprouting feathers, feet curling into claws.

  “Come siren,” croaked Eleanor, taking to the air. “It’s time to finish your duty. Fly with me now! Your battle has begun!”

  Before Abby knew what she was doing, she found herself climbing into the sky, black wings expanding, feet curled to her chest. The air rushed past her, the clouds sped by. It felt like she was swimming, only more magical. She could still make out Brian on the beach below. Just a tiny smudge, and then he was gone.