Molly.
Thunder crashes, ripples through me. She’s going to kill him, I can feel it—
No. She swims past him, rushes to the shore. Is she changing? Was that her plan? I’m about to call for her when a flash of movement on the pier catches my eye. Dozens of people, standing by the base of the pier. Mostly men, but some girls. Girls I once knew, ocean girls. Demons, darkness, evil. They stare at us, smiling, watching, waiting. Waiting for us to turn. Waiting for us to join them. In front of them all is the monster—the man, he looks like a man now. He’s shirtless, muscular, perfect, save the thick axelike scars on his chest.
He looks at me over the pier railing—right at me, as if he were inches away.
And he smiles.
I can’t breathe. A wave roars over me, punches me underwater; for a moment everything feels black and hazy, then I feel a hand wrap around my wrist. Another on my shoulder, steadying me, holding me still against the ocean. I blink, wait for my vision to clear. Key. It’s Key. And she’s changed—or is changing. Her eyes are different, her face is different—she looks like a girl who merely resembles my friend.
“He’s there,” she calls over the sound of the rain, so loud it’s deafening even underwater. She points behind me; I see Jude’s body sinking slowly. “Go save him.”
“Key, you… you’re…” What do I say?
“I’m turning. Leaving the ocean behind,” Key says, and she smiles at me, a dangerous type of smile. “It’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”
“But you’ll be a… monster.”
“Look at us. We’re all monsters anyhow. There’s no choice,” Key says. She inhales, looks in the direction of the pier. “Come with me, Lo. Save him, let him go, but then come with me. It’s where you belong.”
I shake my head, but the storm is pulling at me once again. I could go. I could save Jude, leave him on the shore to Celia and her sisters. Just because Lo has to die doesn’t mean a new version of me can’t be born tonight. I’d be with Key, I’d be with my other changed sisters.
Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t change.
I feel darkness flickering through me, licking at the space around my heart.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Celia
It’s him, it’s him and he’s here for them, for Naida—Lo—for her sisters.
And if he sees my sisters and me? Then he’s here for us, too.
“Hide,” I say swiftly. “Now, hide.”
Anne and Jane aren’t used to taking orders from me, but I suppose I sound so panicked they don’t question it—we jump behind the calliope, peer through the pipes at the people.
No, not people. I don’t know what they are, but they aren’t human. Some could pass, yes, but others have too-long teeth, or fingers like claws. Some of the girls have white furlike hair growing down their necks and along their spines; as we watch, it dissolves and becomes jet-black, thick and beautiful hair that reminds me of Lo’s.
“What are they?” Jane whispers as lightning cracks overhead. I glance back—the car is right there. We could get in it and go. But Jude—no, we can’t leave till we have Jude.
“Celia! Seriously, what are they?” Anne asks, and for the first time in recent memory, she sounds afraid.
I shake my head. “They’re what turned Lo into what she is. They’re monsters. They attacked her and changed her and—” I mean to say more, but a figure appears at the edge of the pier, walking up the path. It’s a girl like Lo—same blue skin, same features, naked and dripping wet. One of her sisters. I wince as they look at her and smile, and the scarred one holds his hand out. Run, run. I want to scream for her to run, but I know she won’t. Why would she? She’s so clearly one of them, being welcomed by them, just like Lo described.
The scarred man wraps his fingers in hers, but it’s not loving—it’s controlling, like he’s claiming her as his own. And then he changes, slowly, methodically. His spine shifts, cracks loudly enough that we can hear it from our hiding spot. His skin dissolves away, leaving thick and matted fur. And his jaw—it stretches, stretches like the bones themselves are clay, elongating until it’s not human anymore. Elongating until it’s a wolf’s jaw, a wolf’s face, a wolf’s yellow searing eyes. If there was any doubt that this man is the monster that changed Naida, it’s gone. I close my eyes for a moment, try to keep from vomiting at the idea of fighting it, of what Naida’s sister had to face.
Jane drops to the ground, weak-kneed, while Anne tightens her grip on the calliope. Together we watch the others change from human to monster—the men becoming huge, dark wolves and the women becoming eerily beautiful white ones. The new girl is the last to change. It looks painful; she screams when her spine shifts and cracks. They’re still tall even as beasts, with massive claws and slick teeth; I think of Naida’s memory, of how it felt when the teeth popped through the skin of her chest, into her heart.
“We can’t stay here. At least get in the car,” Anne whispers urgently.
I grimace at the idea of leaving Jude. Lo will save him. She’s done it before; she won’t let him die. Trust her. I nod meekly, slowly lower myself; Anne and I each grab one of Jane’s arms, hoist them over our shoulders. Just through the gate, the car is right there on the other side. We can wait for Jude, we can make it out, we’ll be fine. I look down to adjust my arm under Jane—
“Celia,” Anne says, voice serious, dead. I look up, then at the fence.
There’s a girl, standing just a few feet from us, blocking our path. Blue-skinned, hair that looks like it might have once been red. Her eyes are different from Lo’s, more human, but they’re sharp and dangerous.
“You’re Lo’s friend,” she says. Her voice is even and deep.
“Yes,” I say quickly, almost relieved. Another sister, one who isn’t going to the monsters. Will she help us?
“Triplets,” she says, looking from me to Anne and Jane. I hesitate, but then nod again. The girl licks her lips; I can see her slightly pointed teeth flicker when she does so. She inhales; I wait, watch, feel Jane tremble beside me, then—
“Here!” she shouts, voice shooting through the rain, across the empty Pavilion—to the monsters. “Come here!”
My heart sinks, and finally, Jane really does faint. Not that it matters; the girl darts forward, shoves the three of us backward, so, so strong. We smash into the calliope and fall to the ground. I can feel I’m bleeding; everything is blurry and stings. She leans over us and pushes hard on the back of the calliope. Its ancient wheels creak but give, and it rolls to the side, revealing us, revealing the car, revealing Lo’s sister to the monsters. I try to crawl to my feet, shaky, but the girl pushes me back to the ground.
I can’t live like Lo. I don’t want to forget.
I turn my head, squinting in the rain, force myself to look. The monsters are walking toward us slowly, methodically, still beasts. Lo’s sister leans over and hisses, animal-like. She doesn’t need words to make it clear that we aren’t to move. Anne whimpers nearby; Jane’s breathing is haggard and rough as the monsters begin to change one at a time, snouts sucking back to form human faces. The scarred one gives us a curious look, stops moving when Lo’s sister tenses, steps out in front of us.
“Molly, correct?” the scarred one says after a long moment. “I remember you.”
“You should,” Lo’s sister—Molly—says. Her voice is thick, furious. “Do you remember my sister? The one you killed?”
“Not especially,” he says, grinning wickedly. Molly’s hands wrap into fists, so hard I hear her knuckles crack. There’s a long pause; Molly inhales several times, like she’s about to speak, but it takes several tries for the words to emerge.
“I’ll make a deal,” she says. “There’s three of them. You’ll get two new girls if you kill one, won’t you?”
“We will,” the man says cautiously. “But what’s the deal?”
“Let me go. Release me from this… this life. And I’ll give one of them to you to kill.”
<
br /> “What makes you think we can’t kill one of them anyhow?” the man asks, as if this entire exchange amuses him.
“I can snap their necks before you take another step,” Molly growls. “All three of them. It’ll be easy. I’m strong now, stronger than I was when you killed my sister. You made me this way.”
“Ah,” the monster says, but I can see he thinks she has a point. He looks at me and my sisters. Anne’s face is white, and there’s a trickle of blood running down her jaw; Jane hardly seems awake at all, head nodding and falling back against the pavement. “They’re lovely. And you’re fighting changing—it’ll take forever for you to join us….”
“Take one,” Molly says through gritted teeth. The monster hesitates.
He’s going to do it. He’s going to let her trade us.
Two of us are going to change.
I can’t, I can’t let it happen, no—
“Me,” I sputter, realizing my mouth is full of blood. Molly glances back at me, surprised. “Me,” I repeat. “Take me.”
“Interesting,” the monster muses. I hold my hands out and clamber to my feet.
“Kill me,” I pant, meeting Molly’s eyes. “I can’t live like that in the water. I can’t do it.”
“What are you doing?” Anne shouts, angry, hurt, confused. She starts to rise, but Molly kicks her back down, her foot solidly planting in Anne’s stomach. My sister hacks, chokes to regain her breath.
“My sister didn’t get a choice,” Molly says slowly. “I would have volunteered. I’d rather have died than watch her be killed—”
“I can’t watch you die, Celia!” Anne sputters, still gasping for air. I look over my shoulder at her.
“I never fit in with you and Jane anyhow,” I say, voice shaking. I’m sure we’re both crying, but the tears blend so seamlessly with the rain that it’s hard to tell. Molly looks from me to the monster, then grabs my arm.
“Her,” Molly says. “You’ll take her. You can have the other two. And then you let me go.”
“Of course,” the monster says, but his words don’t reach his eyes. He’s lying. He’s not letting Molly go—he probably can’t let Molly go. It’s so obvious, how does she not see it? Molly takes a step forward. I cringe as I think of Naida’s memory, about the man, the wolf, the beast.
Will he make it fast? I find his eyes. No. He won’t.
It doesn’t matter. It’ll be fine. He’ll kill me. He’ll try to change my sisters.
But it won’t work. They’ll walk out of the ocean and be able to go home. At least, I think that’s the case. Because like I told Anne—I never fit in with her and Jane. I’m their not-quite-perfect replica.
I’m not identical.
If what Naida and Lo told me is true, that means it won’t work. Killing me will just mean my death, not their transformation. That seems fair, really—this is my fault, all my fault…. I wanted to be myself, wanted to be strong, be brave. I wanted a better power, even. This is it. This is my power. Truly becoming something beyond Anne and Jane’s sister. I swallow, try to stop shaking, but it doesn’t work. Molly and I grow closer; her grip on my arm tightens. Is she trembling, too? Why? Closer, closer, just a few steps away… The monster reaches out for me, his arm transforming into something clawlike as he does. Don’t touch me, please. I don’t want him to touch me, I think uselessly….
And the next thing I know, I’m back on the ground.
Molly has shoved me to the side, leaped through the air. She’s on the man before he knows what’s happening, her arms wrapped around his head, and then—crack. A bright sound, the sound of his neck breaking. His body falls to the ground, but before his chest hits the pavement, he explodes into shadows that skirt away in the rainstorm. There’s screaming, growling, the snapping of spines as the men transform back into monsters. Teeth everywhere, fur, claws, saliva—they’re on Molly, ripping at her skin, bright red blood staining the mouths of the white wolves. Molly doesn’t stop, though. She’s shrieking, furious, fighting, clawing at them with everything she has—
Anne grabs my hand, yanks me away, and suddenly we’re running, around the calliope, back through the fence. Jane is slow, but we make it to the car; I dive into the driver’s seat, slam the door behind me. I can hear Molly screaming.
“Go, Celia, drive!” Anne shouts, wrapping her arms around Jane’s trembling body in the backseat. I snap to life, throw the car into reverse, we have to go—
Molly screams again, this time more from pain than rage.
“They’re killing her,” I say.
“She wanted to die, clearly,” Anne answers. “Please, Celia, we can’t help Jude—”
“It’s not about Jude,” I say. “Not right now. I have to help Molly.”
“What does it matter—”
“We have to help her kill them, Anne. If they live, they’ll come back for us, back for other girls. We have to help.”
I look at Anne in the rearview mirror as I say it; her mouth, open and ready to argue, slams shut. She shoots her hand forward, grabs my shoulder, closes her eyes.
“The fence,” she says meekly, breathlessly. “Go straight. Don’t try to cut through our opening.”
“We’ll kill more of them that way?”
“I have no idea,” she says as she reaches across Jane and buckles our sister’s seat belt for her. “I can’t see anything in the future right now, not under pressure like this. I don’t know what I’m doing, Celia. I don’t know what you’re doing. But if we go through our opening, I think we’ll hit the calliope.”
“Got it,” I say, trying to smile at her in the rearview mirror. It doesn’t work. I grab my seat belt, click it into place. Turn toward the monsters. We’re stronger together, despite everything.
I think Molly is dead—I don’t hear her screaming anymore. Not that it matters. I think of Lo, of Naida, of her sister, of dead twins, and of all the girls in the ocean who are forgetting their old lives.
What good is knowing the past if you won’t change the future?
I slam my foot down on the accelerator.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Lo
Jude’s body is heavy, like someone has tied weights to my arms and legs. His heart is beating, though—I can feel it when I hold him against me to swim, different and strange compared with the ocean’s rhythm. Make it to shore. Just get him to shore! I shout to myself. He’ll live. He has to live, I won’t let him die, even if he’s going to come to and tell Celia he loves her, even if he’s going to think I’m a killer, if he won’t believe that it was Naida who wanted Celia dead. Just get him to shore. He has to live.
A smaller voice, a certain voice deep down in me: Get him to shore before you go dark and kill him. Because despite the fact that the monsters aren’t by the pier anymore, I can still feel how badly the storm wants to take me. It calls to me, it promises me strength like I’ve never known, it promises me the end of pain….
I hear a scream just as my feet strike sand. Who was that? I don’t know that voice; I don’t recognize it…. I wrap my arms around Jude’s torso for a better grip, pull him along, hurry forward. Celia might need me, Key might need me, hurry. I crash through the sea grass at the top of the trail and set Jude down, look to see where the screaming came from, who else I can help, I can save—
I see the car just as it hits them.
It crashes into the monsters. Several fall to the ground, then become strange, dark shadows that blend in with the rain. Others run, white wolves, dark wolves, beasts that are something of both wolf and man. I look for the one who turned me, but I don’t see him—is he gone? The car continues forward, crashes spectacularly into the side of a building—the arcade. The horn sounds a single, bold tone; smoke pours from the hood. I don’t know where to run, what to do. I look to the car—it’s Celia and her sisters. I can see their blond hair in the windows, can’t tell if they’re moving. Two white wolves are left and one half man-monster; I move toward them, tense. They’re at the Pavilion’s gate. Th
ey slow, look back at me with umber eyes.
The white wolves transform. One becomes an ocean girl I don’t remember.
The other becomes Key.
But she is not Key. She’s nothing resembling Key—save for the tiny, tiny bit of remorse I see on her face when she glances toward the calliope, at a body on the pavement. Molly. Her hair doesn’t look red at all now compared with the blood pooling with rain on her abdomen. She’s dead, so clearly dead…. I grimace, turn back to Key and the others.
I don’t want to kill Key, but if I have to, if she forces me, I will.
The male says something to the other two, something I can’t hear. Then all three contort, change, let fur split through their skin. They become monsters again and run, out into the storm, over the road, to a grove of palmettos.
They’re gone.
I hear movement behind me—Celia and one of her sisters helping Jude. His eyes are open; he’s alive. I exhale a breath I feel like I’ve been holding forever. I want to run to them. But not yet, not yet. As they help him into the arcade through the hole in the wall the car smashed, I run in the opposite direction, to Molly’s body.
It’s tiny, it’s broken. Raindrops bounce off her skin like she’s nothing more than the tipped-over calliope or the trash that’s blowing by. Her hands are torn to pieces. I can see the bones in her legs and one shoulder. I kneel, gather her up, and clutch her tight to me. She’s not warm—though, really, are we ever? I rise and carry her, one foot in front of the other, toward the pier, trying to walk slowly to keep her head from tipping backward.
Molly fought them. She killed the one who turned me. She must have.
So we both planned to die today. I wish I had realized that even when it looked like I didn’t have a choice, I did—I could have been brave. I could have been like her.
But I did choose. I chose not to let the storm take me. I fought it. I refused to be a monster.
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