Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy)

Black Waters

The Songstress Trilogy #1

by

Maija Barnett

Copyright ©2011 by Maija Barnett

Smashwords Edition

http://maijabarnett.blogspot.com

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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.

* * * * *

Six hours later, Abby emerged at the surface. She’d stayed down longer than she would have liked. The sky was turning a dusky blue, and she knew the trawlers were out already, cutting across the choppy water with a perfect view of the shore.

Her heart pounded as she swam toward the beach, gliding just below the surface so she could duck up for a peak whenever she felt the need. Each time she checked, no one was there. Just a scattering of gulls scratching patches of sand. Abby let the waves carry her in and gently deposit her on the shore. Come on feet, she thought as she hauled herself forward. This was always the tricky part, getting out of the water and drying off. She’d hidden her towel close today, a little too close because when she finally reached it, her tail flapping awkwardly in the waves, half of it was soaking wet. Damn it! she thought. Tide’s changed. You stayed under way too long. Still, it was dry enough to wipe off with. And, once that was done, her scales smoothed out and the odd little cramping feeling returned. Then she could walk.

Abby stood and wrapped herself in the now soaking towel. It was light, too light to be caught on the beach. That would make the news for sure. But no one was around, which was a relief. Abby found her clothes, only slightly damp, they’d somehow fared better than her towel, and yanked them on. The cold was brutal now that she’d gone through the change. In the sea her body adjusted to the chill, but on land she was like everybody else. Her hands and feet were already turning blue, and she could barely button and zip her jeans. The November breeze rushed past her skin, cold and unyielding as the metallic sky. She briefly wondered if it was going to snow. Come on, she grumbled under her breath. She grabbed her coat and crammed her feet into her boots. You’ve got to warm up. You have to go.

She knew this was a dangerous time. She was starting to get a little too cold. In just a few more minutes hypothermia would begin to set in. She had to get home, fast. Go, she thought, stumbling forward. Her house was only half a mile down the beach, but it felt like it was miles away. She pushed through the breath-stopping cold, allowing herself to turn back only once and glance at the place where the boat had been. And the girl. Abby told herself not think about it. She’d had to leave her. There was nothing she could have done. But was there? she wondered. She didn’t know. She chewed at her lip until blood pooled around her gums, then she pushed herself faster through the sand, aching to erase what she’d seen.

* * * * *

The boy crouched, hidden behind the dunes, his dark eyes wide in shock. He watched the girl stumble down the beach, her long hair frozen in a tangled mass. He knew her; she was in his trig class at school. Everybody knew her, though she didn’t have any friends. A couple of months ago she’d asked him for a pencil. She probably didn’t remember, but he certainly did. He could even remembered the exact words she’d used, though the thought of that day still made him break out in a sweat. She was so beautiful he’d barely been able to breathe, and he’d been so busy repressing the urge to gasp for air that he hadn’t had the nerve to say a single word. He’d just handed her the pencil and stared down at his desk, his face burning over his unwilling silence.

But what was she really? He just couldn’t believe. And whom, he wondered, could he tell? He watched her until she was a dark smudge on the beach, then he took a deep breath and turned to go.

2. The Birthday Present

When Abby stumbled through the front door, she found Matilda sobbing on the couch. How could she do this? Matilda moaned, her voice raw from too many tears. Jake hovered next to their mother, his thick lips set in a measured frown as he gently rubbed Matilda’s back, calming her as best he could. They both looked up when they heard the door, but it was Matilda who rushed to her daughter’s side, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders, as if she were afraid Abby might vanish again.

Abby, what happened? Where have you been?

Abby tried to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. Her mother’s nails dug into her skin; eyes unblinking as a shark’s. Can you trust her? thought Abby. She didn’t know. Matilda was terrible at staying calm, and Abby was certain her mother couldn’t handle the truth.

I… Abby stumbled, not sure what to say. Don’t tell, warned a voice inside her head. If you do, she’ll never let you out of her sight.

I wanted to see the sun rise from the water. Abby made her voice as even as she could, but even so, it still sounded like a lie.

You wanted to what? asked Matilda in disbelief. Abby, I thought something happened to you. I thought… you know exactly what I thought! Abby glanced over at Jake. He was shaking his head like he wasn’t buying a word.

I’m sorry, she whispered, staring down at her feet so as to avoid looking into Matilda’s eyes. Don’t let her see or she’ll be able to tell, thought Abby. She always says you’re an open book.

Matilda flattened her lips into a line then walked deliberately back to the sofa. She sat down and glared at her hands, staring so intently at her tasteful peach nail polish that she looked like she was trying to change its color with her mind. When she finally managed to glance up at Abby, her eyes were as hard as two small stones.

I can hardly stand to look at you! I stayed up late baking a cake. Chocolate raspberry— your favorite. We wrapped your presents; it was supposed to be a surprise. But you… you weren’t even here. And then I thought…you know exactly what I thought! Just go away! Go to your room.

Abby’s throat hitched and she turned to her brother, his eyes wide and blue just like their dad’s. She hated the feeling churning in her stomach, hated the guilt seething there.

I’m sorry, she whispered, trying hard not to cry. Then she turned and hurried up the stairs to her room. She closed her door as softly as she could, and once it was shut, she closed her eyes too.

But what she saw behind them made her body go numb. It was her face, the face of the girl in the water. The corpse, with her golden halo of hair swirling high above her head. And that mark on her neck. What had it been?

There was a knock at the door, Abby, can I come in? Jake’s voice made her want to hide, but she found herself calling out that he could. What good would it do to stop the inevitable? She’d have to face them sooner or later. Might as well do it now.

Jake was closer to Matilda than Abby was. Much closer. Though it hadn’t always been that way. Abby could remember lying on the beach, listening to her mother’s voice slide through a song while she braided Abby’s hair. But that was before the change. Before her mother had dropped the name mom and insisted on being referred to as Matilda instead. Now it was like they were virtual strangers who just happened to live under the same roof. Not true, thought Abby, crunching down on her lip. A terrible habit, but one she couldn’t seem to break. This time it hurt; she’d forgotten about this morning. Ease up, she thought, or you’ll bleed again.

Oh please, prayed Abby as Jake opened the door. Just this once, let him be on my side. She held her breath as her brother walked in. Again Abby was struck by how much he looked like their father—same round face, same heavy frame. Like Dad before he’d gotten sick, before the cancer had eaten him away.

You okay kid? Jake always called her that, even though they were only two years apart. You really gave us a scare, you know. He sat down on her bed, and stared at her, waiting for her to respond.

Is she okay? Abby asked, sitting next to her brother. Her still damp hair swung over her shoulder and gently grazed the back of his arm.

She will be, he said. But she was really scared. She was convinced you’d been eaten by a shark. Jesus Ab, what were you thinking? You know she can’t take that kind of stress.

I know, Abby whispered, shame flooding her chest. Her vision blurred, but she managed to hold in her tears. It’s not like she wanted it to be like this. She was sixteen for Christ’s sake. Almost an adult. And here she was playing the baby all over again. Crying over everything that’d gone wrong.

Jake, said Abby, wishing she could curl up in a ball, or maybe just turn into somebody else. Why does it have to be this way?

It just is, he said, and he ruffled her hair. It was exactly the same gesture Dad used to do when she was a little girl. She closed her eyes and remembered his face. His gentle eyes, easy smile.

He said he’d always be here. He promised, she croaked, her throat suddenly closing up.

I know, said Jake, turning away.

I miss him, said Abby, putting her face in her hands. I need him, is what she meant to say. Because Matilda can’t handle what I am. The only one who accepted was Dad.

Listen, said Jake, his voice suddenly firm. He lifted her chin, so her eyes met his. You can’t do this to her anymore. This constant fear of something happening to you. It’s beating her down, tearing her apart. She loves you. She just wants you to be safe.

Does she? said Abby. Only once it came out, she immediately wished she could take it back.

Oh don’t give me that! Jake leaped off the bed. Where were you anyway? What really happened? He was standing above her, glowering now, his large, meaty body commanding and strong. Abby knew how the opposing football team felt when they faced this angry, immovable wall. She had no idea what to say.

The truth, said Jake.

There was a knock at the door and Matilda peeked in. Even with bloodshot eyes and matted hair, she was still beautiful. Her body was tall and willow thin, her skin luminescent as the moon. Like me, thought Abby, eyeing her mother’s dark brows, her cascading jet of chestnut hair. But how, wondered Abby, not for the first time, could two people who look so much alike be so incapable of understanding each other?

Abby, said Matilda, stepping into the room. For a moment Abby thought Matilda might reach out and touch her, but she just stood there, arms pressed to her sides. There was a sadness that surrounded Matilda, inhabited the very air she breathed. Abby wished she could take that sadness away, throw it into the salty waters, drown it beneath the rising waves.

I’m sorry, said Abby. Matilda didn’t respond. She just pulled something out of her apron pocket and held it out for Abby to see. It was a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper, about the size of the sort that holds a ring.

What is it? asked Abby. Matilda shrugged. Then she dropped the box onto Abby’s bed. Abby reached for the thing and held it in her hands. It was heavier than she expected it to be, and there was something else strange about it too. With the box resting in her open palm, she could feel the ocean’s pulse on her skin, the roar of the waves in her ears.

Abby blinked hard and put the box on her bed. Had the others heard? She didn’t think so. There was a note attached to the golden wrapping. It was really just a folded piece of paper clumsily stuck to the box with tape. Careful not to pick up the box again, Abby leaned over and ripped off the note. But when she saw who it was from, she froze. It was a message from her dad.

Matilda stiffened when she saw the writing. Then she cleared her throat and took a step back. Your father left this for you, she said, her voice the temperature of arctic ice. He asked me to give it to you on the morning of your sixteenth birthday. No sooner, no later. It was my final promise, so I’m honoring it. For him. I don’t know what’s inside.

Oh, said Abby keeping her eyes on the box. This wasn’t about forgiveness, that was clear. And if it was about love, well, it didn’t include her.

The box looked even heavier now, like it had somehow gained weight while it sat on her quilt. It was as if it had inhaled a dark cloud of secrets, promises of things to come.

Aren’t you going to open it? Matilda asked. Abby knew she should, knew her mother ached to know what was inside. But for some reason, she wanted to keep it to herself, to hold this final piece of her father close. She wanted some privacy, but she couldn’t say so. Kicking her mother out of her room right now didn’t seem like the best way to go.

Luckily, Jake read Abby’s mind. And this time, he was on her side. Matilda lets go. Let’s give Abby some time. We should fix breakfast, like we planned. He took Matilda’s hand and led her toward the door. In an unusual moment, she did as he asked.

Matilda’s eyes stayed on Abby as she walked out of the room. Abby wished she could say something to let her mother in, but the old scars held her back. Abby let her leave without a word.

* * * * *

Once the door had closed, Abby reread the note, while wishing there was something more. All it said was:

Dear Ab,

Grandmother Annabelle wanted you to have this on the morning you turned sixteen. She didn’t tell me much about it, just said she knew you’d figure it out.

P.S.: Don’t show it to your mother! You know how she is about this sort of stuff.

Love always,

Dad

That was it. Nothing deep or profound. Abby didn’t even remember her paternal grandmother; the woman had died when Abby was six months old. It seemed strange that she would leave a gift.

Four freaking sentences, thought Abby, running her fingers over the lines. Couldn’t he have written a little more? And why did he say not to show it to Matilda? He’s the one who’d asked her to deliver the thing. What was this, some sort of game? No, she thought, glancing at the box. This was just business as usual.

There had always been this strange tug-of-war between her parents, with Abby invariably stuck in the middle. Sometimes Abby wondered that if there weren’t so many secrets, maybe her mother could grow to accept.

Tears pricked the backs of Abby’s eyes, but she blinked them away. Nothing to cry about, she whispered. He’s gone. You’re not in the middle anymore. Then she turned her gaze to the golden box. The final connection. Her father’s last gift.

The box was wrapped perfectly, its paper so bright that it seemed to glow. Abby knew her father couldn’t have wrapped the thing. You’d think a doctor would be good at that sort of stuff, but her father had always joked about missing the surgeon’s gene. It was Matilda who was the neat-nick in the family. She was the one who wrapped all the gifts. But if Matilda didn’t wrap it, reasoned Abby, then Grandmother Annabelle must have done it before she gave it to Dad. So her father really hadn’t known what was inside, just that it was something Matilda wouldn’t like. Something about me, thought Abby ruefully. Or mermaids.

Just open it, she thought. Do it now. She took a deep breath and ripped open the paper. It scattered in pieces across the floor. For a moment the scent of the sea rushed through her, sharp and briny and smelling like home.

Then, at last, she saw what it was. And it wasn’t quite as exciting as she thought it would be. It was a wooden box, a child’s toy really. On each side was carved, in rudimentary lines, different sections of a mermaid’s body. The box was made up of four sections of wood, each one stacked upon the next. You assembled the mermaid, as well as the moon above her, simply by rotating the pieces and lining them up. Abby did it quickly, wondering at the point of it all. It was only when she’d finished that she noticed the serpent, sliding along the base of the box. The serpent was carved in lighter strokes, and its skin blended in with the wood’s dusky grain. On its back Abby could make out some sort of engraving, symbols she’d never seen before. Since she knew only English and a smattering of French, it could be