* * * * *
The urge to run hit Brian in the gut, but he ignored it and stayed where he was. What should I believe? he wondered. But there was no way around it, he just didn’t know. An image of Luther shot through his mind: one bony arm around his mother’s waist, eyes like a snake’s before the kill.
Just stay calm, thought Brian. Keep your cool. You’re going to figure everything out. He didn’t care if he was lying to himself. He had to try and stay positive now, to ignore the doubt worming through his chest, and the fear over what might be happening at home. “And don’t forget about Abby,” he muttered, “and whatever the hell she’s doing to you.”
He just couldn’t stop wondering if she was controlling him somehow. Using her powers to mess with his heart. She was beautiful, but there was something else too. He wished he knew why he felt such a need to protect her. Why the very cells in his body were drawn to her every move. It took all his self-control not to reach out and take her. To hold her gently in his arms and steal a kiss that wasn’t his to have.
To distract himself, Brian checked out her room, though there really wasn’t much to see. Two posters clung to opposite walls. The first was of a vase of wilting flowers with Van Gogh’s name splashed across the bottom in blue. The second was a photo of a diving humpback. A bunch of bubbly letters ran across the top of the poster, instructing the viewer to “Save the Whales.” Brian understood why she had that one up.
Abby’s desk and dresser were simple mahogany— nothing fancy, just plain dark wood. There was hardly anything in the room to suggest it was inhabited by a sixteen-year-old girl. No stuffed animals, no clutter of makeup. Even her taste in music was a mystery. A framed photo of a middle-aged man sat in the center of her dresser. The man, who was dressed in a white lab coat, was smiling easily into the camera, one hand outstretched as if beckoning the viewer. Brian recognized the photo. He’d seen it in the paper about six months ago when Abby’s dad had passed away. A couple of CDs lay scattered across the dresser, but when Brian squished over to check them out, he found that they were recordings of whale songs.
That’s when he noticed a small photo stuck in the bottom corner of the dresser mirror. It was about the size of a passport photo and looked like it had been snipped off from one of those sets you can get from the booth in the mall. It was the only other photograph in the room, so Brian walked the few feet over to it, curious about what it was.
It was a shot of two middle school girls. Both were smiling into the camera, the dark haired one had her arm around the blonde. Neither of them looked familiar. He absently wondered who they could be.
Brian turned his gaze to the bed. That’s where she sleeps, he thought and a thick heat spread through him, but he tried his best to push it away.
He made himself think about his dad and how it must feel to be locked up for life. The heat in his chest began to fade. Brian wondered if Abby had this effect on all the guys she met. He had the unsettling feeling that she did.
The only notable thing about the bed was the quilt that lay across it. Its tiny patches of blues and greens reminded Brian of the sea. He was about to look away when something on it caught his eye. A wooden box sat in the bed’s center, about the size of the kind that holds a ring. Brian walked over and picked it up, and was taken aback by its weight. He guessed it was over two pounds. The box was constructed from several panels of wood, and he was about to turn the pieces and try and open the thing when he noticed the mermaid carving, and, below that, the body of the snake. Brian’s stomach flipped as he followed the letters inscribed on the snake’s tail. He ran his finger over the lines until the tip of his pointer began to go numb, but still he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t believe what was there.
“What are you doing?” Brian jumped back: eyes wide, mouth open in shock. “That’s mine,” said Abby leaping past the doorway. Without even realizing what he was doing, Brian held the box out of her reach.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“None of your business! And you shouldn’t be going through my stuff!”
For a second he thought she was going to hit him. She was so close he could have kissed her if he wanted, her violet eyes flashing, lips set in a scowl. Even this angry, she was still so beautiful. He felt a strange urge to wrap her in his arms. Shut up! he thought. Just keep it together. Try and think with your head!
Brian took a deep breath and handed her the box. “Sorry,” he mumbled, heat charging through him. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just… I’ve seen this writing before.”
“You have?” said Abby, seeming to forget her anger as she took the box in her hands. He could tell by her voice that she wasn’t sure she should believe him. “Do you know what it means?”
“No,” said Brian, running a hand through his hair while wishing to god he wasn’t dripping all over her carpet and that he looked just a little bit cool. “But my dad does, or at least he used to. Maybe he could tell us, if we could get him to talk.”
“Your dad,” whispered Abby, handing him a towel. He had been so intent on her face that he hadn’t even noticed what she’d had in her hands. But the towel felt good against his skin. Safe somehow…normal. He wrapped it around himself, inhaling its scent. When he looked up, he found she was staring at him, and, once again, he was pulled into her eyes.
“Brian?” He blinked then forced his mind away, trying not to think about her mesmerizing looks. “I think you better tell me about your dad.”
“Um, just let me dry off first okay?” Stop blushing! He screamed inside his head, but he didn’t know how to turn it off.
“Right,” said Abby. Was she blushing too? He hoped she was, but he was afraid to check. He didn’t want to get caught staring at her again.
“I got these for you,” said Abby, dropping a pile of clothes onto the chair by her desk. “I’m not exactly sure how clean they are, but it’s the best I could do.”
“Thanks,” said Brian, slipping the towel over his neck then stepping past her to pick up the clothes.
“Where can I….” He could tell he was getting redder. He tried to gain control, but it was useless.
“Right here. I won’t look.”
Raw heat burned inside his chest.
“I’m turning my back,” she said, smiling now. He liked the way she was looking at him, and he felt a sharp urge to touch her again.
“Get it together,” he hissed under his breath.
“What?” said Abby, her back to him now.
“I didn’t say anything.” He hoped she accepted his lie.
Brian hung his soaked clothes on the back of the chair, finished toweling himself off as quickly as he could, and slipped into the clothing Abby’d brought. It was just a pair of jeans and a buttoned down shirt. No underwear or socks, though if the stuff wasn’t clean, he didn’t want those anyway.
“Okay,” he said, feeling exposed. When he looked up, Abby’s eyes were already on him, and a quiet smile played across her face. He wondered how long she’d been watching.
“They’re a little big,” she said.
“They’re all right.” The shirt wasn’t too bad, just a little roomy in the shoulders. It was the jeans that were the real problem. Brian shoved his hands into the pockets. It was the only way he could keep them up.
“You need a belt,” said Abby, opening her closet. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick one that’s not too girly.”
She’s loving this, he thought, and he held in a smile. Maybe he was wrong about things after all.
She handed him a skinny, black belt, and he slid it on and buckled it. It worked, even if he did look totally ridiculous.
“My brother’s a pretty big guy,” said Abby. He could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“No worries,” said Brian, wincing inside. Then he walked over to her and held out his hand.
“Can I see it?” His voice was all business now. Abby’s eyes narrowed. She took a step back.
&nb
sp; “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna steal it, okay? I just want to look at it again.”
“Okay,” said Abby, but she still wouldn’t hand over the box. She closed her eyes and inhaled three times, her long, dark lashes shadowing her cheeks.
Then the box was in his hand. Only, Abby was still gripping its top, as if she were afraid to let it go.
For several moments they stood completely still, both of them holding a side of the box, completely unwilling to make a move. It was the knock on the door that broke their silence. Abby released her side, grabbed Brian’s wrist, and started dragging him toward the closet door.
“What are you doing?” said Brian.
“Get inside. I don’t want them to know you’re in my room.”
“But what about my clothes?”
“I’ll take care of them. Now give me the box!” He handed it to her and then he was inside the closet. Clothes hangers dug into his neck and back, as his eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Hey Ab, can I come in?”
It was Jake Carson. Brian recognized his voice. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard him at school— joking in the halls with the other football guys. From what Brian knew, Jake was okay— a little more standoffish than the other players on the team, but certainly not a social pariah like Abby. Though apparently his status as one of the top linebacker’s in the state didn’t rub off on her at all. Or vice versa.
“Sure,” squeaked Abby, sounding scared.
Brian heard her grab his soaked clothes and shove them somewhere. His best guess was she put them under the bed. You have to see, thought Brian. You have to know what’s going on. Carefully, Brian sank to his knees. He noticed that if he bent his head just right, he could see Abby’s face through the slats in the door. He tried his best to stay totally silent, but she kept glancing over in his direction. He hoped she couldn’t hear him breathe.
Brian remembered watching a documentary on free divers, how they slowed their heart rates and breathing so that they could stay underwater for minutes at a time. He tried his best to do that now, but he couldn’t slow his racing pulse or the ragged pant of his breath in his ears.
“Can we talk?” asked Jake. Abby nodded yes, then glanced over at her closet door. Brian could only make out one of Jake’s arms, but he could still see Abby’s entire face. He could tell from her expression that she wished all she had in her closet were clothes.
“What’s that in your hand?” asked Jake. “Is that the thing from Dad?”
“Yeah,” said Abby, handing it over. Jake walked to the bed and sat down with a swoosh. The bed was positioned diagonally to the closet door, so Brian knew that if he wanted to see Jake’s face, he’d have to move as far to the right as he could. Okay, he thought. Just take it slow. Holding his breath while he did it, he slid himself into the right-hand corner, wincing as his back brushed the fabric behind him. Please, he prayed. Please don’t hear.
“What is it?” asked Jake. Brian could see him now: dark, wide-spaced eyes, thick lips and jaw. I wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark ally, thought Brian, though really he knew it was Abby he should fear. Abby with the potential black magic on her side. The beautiful girl with the silver tail.
“I’m not sure,” said Abby, backing toward the closet door. Her face was too high up for Brian to see. He was on eye level with the backs of her thighs.
“Good thing Matilda didn’t see this,” said Jake. “You know how she hates this kind of stuff.”
“You mean mermaids?” asked Abby, “or do you mean me?”
“Abby,” sighed Jake, “listen to me.” He patted the bed, and she sat down at his side. Now Brian had a perfect view of them both. He could tell that Abby was thinking that too because she kept glancing over in his direction, as if trying to spot him through the slats.
“You’ve got to stop this running off thing,” said Jake. “Matilda can’t take it and neither can I.”
“Matilda doesn’t care about me.”
“That’s not true,” said Jake. “She loves you, Abby. Christ, she’s your mom. Now I’m sorry we were so angry tonight, but you had no right to scare us like that. You wouldn’t even tell us where you’d been.”
“Does it matter?” said Abby. “Why can’t I do what I want?”
“You don’t get it, do you? You think you’re immune because of what you are, but you’re not.” Jake’s voice was brittle as bone. “There’s a murderer out there, and he’s killing girls. You need to be home until the cops figure this out. The police just issued a curfew; I saw it on the news. Everyone’s supposed to go home after school. No more late night swims, okay? Just go to school and come right back.”
“So now I’ve got a curfew?” said Abby, leaping up. She was directly in front of the closet again, and her legs blocked Brian’s view. He could feel the anger peeling off her body, hot waves of heat blistering in the air.
“Yeah,” said Jake. “All of us do. And you need to follow it, understand? Haven’t we lost enough already? We can’t risk losing you too.”
“Is this coming from her, or is it just you talking?”
“Jesus,” said Jake, jumping up. “You know, it’s totally useless talking to you! You don’t seem to get it, there’s someone out there. Someone who’s killing near the water. Just stay away, do you understand? Stay away until this guy’s caught!”
“I don’t think you should be telling me what to do.” Abby’s voice came out thin, like she was about to cry. Brian wished he could hold her in his arms, tell her everything would be okay.
“Abby,” said Jake, going over to her. “Listen, I know how hard everything’s been. Maybe tougher on you than on any of us. And I know how you feel when you’re away from the water. Dad told me about it, but it’s not for that long. You’ve got to understand, I can’t lose you too. We can’t lose you. You have to stay safe. Now promise me,” said Jake. He grabbed her hand. “Abby please. Promise me now.”
“All right,” whispered Abby. “I’ll try, okay?”
“Do better than try. Just stay out till it’s safe.”
“Okay. I’ll stay safe.”
And then he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her in an enormous hug. Brian pressed his face to the closet door, the wooden slats digging into his skin as he strained to peer up as high up as he could. An electric needle shot through his heart, and he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see.
What’s wrong with you, he thought. It’s only her brother. Don’t go crazy over this.
But Brian couldn’t help the way he felt. He couldn’t help wanting it to be him out there, instead of just watching, alone in the dark. It suddenly struck him that things were always this way— with her, with everyone. Why was he always so alone?
“Thanks,” said Jake. Brian opened his eyes. Okay, he thought, they’re talking again. But when he looked up they were still clutching each other, like two disaster victims who’d found one another at last. Finally, Jake pulled away and slowly walked toward the door.
“Good night Ab,” Jake whispered. “It’ll all be okay.” And then he was gone, and they were alone.
“Brian?” said Abby, opening the door. Brian stood and stepped gingerly out of the closet, brushing his hair from his eyes as he did.
“He’s not coming back, is he?” asked Brian, praying that the answer was no.
Abby smiled. “Probably not, but we’d better whisper anyway. I already have enough problems right now. I don’t need them to know there’s a guy in my room.”
Brian took a step closer and stared into her face. Her violet eyes peered into his, and before he knew what he was doing, he was touching her cheek, her lips, her chin. Her skin was silk beneath his hands.
“Wait,” she cried, grabbing his wrist.
“Sorry,” said Brian, and he began to go numb. He suddenly wished he could disappear, evaporate into the walls of her room, or escape out the window in one violent flash. But then she collapsed on her bed, her beautiful face in her hands. The
sobs that rose out of her sounded like bells.
“Abby,” said Brian. “I didn’t mean it, okay? Listen, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s not that,” said Abby, looking up, tears streaming down her face. “It’s just... something’s changing in me. I can’t go anywhere now without men staring. Even my teachers.... It’s even worse than before.”
“You’re beautiful,” said Brian. She flashed him a look, then scrubbed her tears away with the backs of her hands.
“So are super models, and some of the girls at school.”
“No,” said Brian. “Not like you.” He sat down beside her on the bed, making sure to leave a space between them. He didn’t want her to think he had any ideas.
“Is that why you want to help me?” asked Abby, her eyes trained on the closet door.
“I’m not sure,” whispered Brian, shame burning the back of his neck. “Maybe, but I think it’s something else too.”
“Like what?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.”
They were silent for a moment, listening to the rain, and then Abby reached over and took Brian’s hand. “I want your help,” she said. But the look in her eyes made him want something more.
“Tell me about your dad,” said Abby. “Tell me where you’ve seen the words on my box.”
“My dad,” said Brian, but then he stopped as a bitter taste crept up the back of his throat. He swallowed it down and began again. “My dad was an Anthropology professor at the University of Maine. We used to live in Orono, that’s up near Bangor. Basically, it’s where I grew up. My dad was into epigraphology, so he studied ancient writing, hieroglyphs, that sort of thing.”
“Like the Egyptians?” asked Abby. She was really watching him now. He could feel her eyes on his skin.
Brian nodded and continued on. “When I was fourteen he took a six-month sabbatical. He went to Crete to study a find. I didn’t go with him; I was in school. And mom, well, she worked as a librarian then. But that was before....” Brian’s voice trailed off. Luther’s face was looming inside him. He could actually feel his stepfather’s eyes, searing his insides as he talked.
Don’t do it, warned a voice in his head. Don’t you dare tell her this. You have no idea what he’ll do.
“Brian, are you okay?” asked Abby. She touched him lightly on the back of his hand, and the heat of her skin urged him on.
“I just don’t talk about this much, that’s all.” Keep going, thought Brian. You have to tell.
“My dad,” said Brian, “well, he went to Crete to help with this new excavation. They actually found something out there, some ancient tablet. They called it the Poseidon Stone.”
My dad knows Linear A, which is the written language that these ancient people called the Mycenaeans used. It’s from, like, forever ago. Anyway, he was looking at the Poseidon Stone when he noticed something he’d never seen before. The tablet had these weird signs on it. They weren’t hieroglyphics, but they weren’t Linear A either. My dad thought he’d stumbled onto a brand new script.”
“Like the one on my box,” whispered Abby.
“It was just like yours. It took my dad and a team of experts an entire year to decode the thing, and even then they weren’t sure they’d gotten it right. They were really stoked about it though— figured they’d found some lost language or something.
You see, Linear A was pretty much just used for commerce. But this new tablet, it actually talked about the gods. Well, just one god really. It only talked about Poseidon. You know, the Greek god of the sea. Anyway, my dad thought this made a whole lot of sense since Crete is an island community and the Mycenaeans relied on the ocean. But the thing that my dad thought was even cooler was that the tablet also talked about some sort of sea people. And they weren’t gods, at least not according to my dad and the team who helped with the translation. Everyone guessed that they must have been sea gypsies who traveled together from port to port. According to the Poseidon Stone, at night they actually slept in the sea.
“Mermaids,” whispered Abby.
“Well, not according to Dante Paulo, he’s this Argentine anthropologist my dad worked with in Orono. He and my dad were pretty tight. Paulo thought they’d uncovered some brand new culture. One that existed in harmony with the Mycenaeans. I don’t think he thought any of it was mythological, though. I mean, anthropologists don’t usually dream up that kind of stuff.”
“But what about your dad?” asked Abby.
“Well, he wasn’t so sure.”
“You said something before about getting your dad to talk. Did something happen to him?” asked Abby, her hands gripping the mermaid box.
Brian’s insides constricted, and his throat went dry. “Okay,” he whispered, “I’m getting to that.”
“Paulo was up here, in Provincetown. The Cape was his home base when he wasn’t in Maine. He was a recreational treasure diver. You know, stuff from old shipwrecks, that sort of thing. He was diving off of the tip of the Cape, looking for some long lost wreck, when he found a second tablet in the water. They were able to translate that one faster this time. It said something about some sort of passageway. My dad thought it could be talking about the gateway to some underwater city. But no one believed it; it seemed too strange. And coincidental too, if you know what I mean. Because how could a people who existed in Crete have somehow made it up here too? The rest of the scientific community started to think the whole thing was a hoax. They questioned the Poseidon Stone’s authenticity. My dad had to write up a couple of articles defending the finds. But it didn’t matter. No one thought it was true.”
“But that was the thing,” said Brian slowly. “My dad knew he and Paulo were onto something. He took us to Provincetown, rented a house up there. He said he wanted do a series of underwater searches, see if he could drag up any other new stuff. You know, to give Paulo’s find some credibility. Make everyone see it wasn’t a joke.”
“So,” said Brian, swallowing hard. “Paulo, my dad and a few other guys went diving off the P-Town coast, pretty much right where Paulo had found the second stone, when something happened, no one’s really sure what. Everyone died except my dad.”
“How?” said Abby.
“I don’t know. My dad was completely psycho when he was rescued. They found him all alone on the lifeboat. He said he fought off a giant snake, some kind of Jules Vern sea monster thing. I remember him saying that the thing was about to have him for lunch when something or someone called it off. My dad was convinced he’d heard a voice in the water, singing or something, I don’t know. The whole thing sounded completely insane.”
The jury was convinced he’d murdered everyone. That they’d found something big and he’d wanted all the glory. But I don’t think that’s what went down. I mean, first of all, something was wrong with the bodies. The police wouldn’t say what it was, but at the funerals, all the caskets were closed. And secondly, well, none of this sounds like my dad. Paulo was like a brother to him. There’s no way he’d ever hurt his friend.”
“Where’s your dad now?”
“Bridgewater,” said Brian.
“You mean the state mental institution?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Luther made sure he was sent there for life.”
“Luther?” said Abby.
“You know, Chief Pentos.”
“Your stepdad.”
“Yup, that’s the one. He started dating my mom a few weeks before my dad went upstate. Left his job as chief up in P-Town and got one down here. I don’t know how he weaseled his way into his new position, but he always seems to get what he wants. It’s some kind of mind control trick or something. I heard that Clifton’s old chief resigned after meeting him once. And he’s got my mom totally brainwashed. It’s like part of her mind is actually gone.”
“He scares me, that’s why I’m not going home. I think he knows something about my dad’s research. After they arrested my dad, Luther took all his stuff
and locked it in a vault at the Provincetown station. They said it was evidence, but I don’t think that’s it. Luther made sure everything went his way. He kept the media in the dark about the trial. I bet you never heard anything about it. And he got the judge to do whatever he said. Even the original scientists, the ones from the Crete site, no one came forward to talk about the find. The Poseidon Stone, you can’t even find it on Google. It’s like the whole thing doesn’t exist.”
“You think it’s some sort of conspiracy theory?” asked Abby.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think.”
Brian stopped talking and stared at his hands. Finally, he made himself continue.
“I guess my dad isn’t insane after all. And do you know what? That almost makes it worse. When I saw your box, I knew he was right. I mean, you’re someone who could have been in the water that night. The singing, it could have come from someone like you.”
“It wasn’t me,” said Abby, obviously disliking the insinuation.
“I didn’t say you. I said someone like you.”
“A mermaid, you mean.”
“Are there others?” asked Brian.
“I don’t know,” said Abby, looking away. “As far as I know, I’m the only one.”
“So you haven’t seen any sea monsters when you’re swimming out there?” Brian tried his best to crack a smile, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work right.
Abby sat completely still, her violet eyes trained on the window. When she turned to him, fear flashed across her face.
“I would have said no,” she whispered, “but that last time I went in the water, I felt something strange. Something was there. And whatever it was, it frightened everything away.”
“Everything?” said Brian.
“All of the fish. And the dolphins—they were warning me.”
“You speak to dolphins?” said Brian. “Well, I guess that makes sense.”
“Something was in there; that’s why I got out so fast. That’s why you found me like that on the beach.” Abby’s face was turning red, and Brian couldn’t stop himself from remembering her body, a curve of cream against the sand. The heat was back, charging through him, only this time he didn’t try to push it away.
They were silent, listening to the rain and the soft rise and fall of the waves below.
Abby turned to him then, her eyes wide as moons. Her question took him completely off guard. “Do you want to stay for the night?” she asked. “You can, you know. It’s okay.”
“I’m not sure....”
“I meant on the floor.” Abby’s words tumbled out and her face splashed crimson again. “It’s just....” She was really stumbling now, and he would have felt sorry for her if he hadn’t been there so many times before. If every time he spoke to her, including that first time with the pencil, he hadn’t felt like a bumbling fool.
“You said you didn’t want to go home,” said Abby, suddenly finding great interest in her feet.
“I don’t,” said Brian, almost too softly to hear. “What I really want to do is stay here with you.”
Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy) Page 12