Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy)

by Maija Barnett

  * * * * *

  Delilah was home. She’d parked her blood red Volvo haphazardly under the car port’s shade. She hated that car, thought it pretentious, or at least she had when Luther’d first bought it for her. Now he didn’t know what she thought, though he doubted it was much of anything at all. He hadn’t worked her mind in a very long time. He was afraid if he did, if he made one more change, it would drive her into a catatonic state. But still, that Volvo was an excellent purchase. Its perfect red body made it easy to spot. And it kept her secure, which was its purpose after all.

  Her safety, that’s what had been bothering him. That annoying knot at the back of his mind, protruding into his thoughts at random, stabbing into his sleep at night. Ever since the Liney girl had gone missing— ever since that, everything had changed.

  Good, thought Luther, stepping out of his car and walking briskly into the house. The Camry was gone, which meant Brian wasn’t home. A dark thread of relief slid through his chest, and he felt his body begin to relax.

  Even the boy’s name made him cringe. Because Brian knew something, that was certain. Something about who the Hunter was after, but, more importantly, something about Luther himself. Luther didn’t know what; he couldn’t tell anymore. He was no longer able to read people’s minds. Not that losing that skill would matter with Brian. Since the boy’s father’s sentencing hearing, he couldn’t get inside Brian’s head at all.

  But in those early days, when he’d first struggled to regain his manhood, he could hear them thinking in his head. Women, men— it didn’t matter who. But that was before he’d made the break. Before he’d learned to control himself, to bury the snake as deeply as he could. Because wasn’t that what all of them wanted? To become what they’d been before the change? Without the terrible feel of the monster inside them, coiled ever so tightly, waiting to strike?

  Still, Luther couldn’t shake the suspicion that Brian knew about him, that he remembered everything that had happened in court. He shouldn’t remember; Luther had put him in a coma. And yet, somehow, it seemed that he did. And to make matters worse, he’d locked up his mind. Luther couldn’t get in, no matter how hard he tried. He’d toyed with the idea of killing the boy, eliminating him once and for all. But he’d been afraid of what it would do to Delilah, and he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.

  It was strange how Brian frightened him, just like his father whom Luther’d put away. Not without help from the Hunter, of course. Help he hadn’t requested, yet it had appeared. That was during the time when Luther had first started trying, had rejected the Brotherhood, tried to repress the snake. And yet they had felt it when he’d made the change, and they had sent the Hunter to help catch his prey.

  You were weak, and they knew it. That’s why he came. A deep shame filled Luther’s chest, but he pushed it away knowing it was the price he must pay. It was the only way to become human again, to regain what had been stolen from him. But in his quest to become human, he’d lost some of his power. And so he had no influence over the boy anymore. He was as impotent as he’d been when he’d attacked Brian’s father. No, now he was worse. There was no denying that.

  Except that there was one power he still possessed, one that gave him some control over human thoughts. It might not work with Brian, but it worked with everyone else. So whenever he slipped up and revealed some of the snake, that power was there to save him again. He needed that control, or else they would catch on. They would see he was different; they would learn what he was.

  It was a sort of camouflage, his way of controlling their minds. He couldn’t read what they were thinking, not anymore. But he had a way of putting new thoughts in their heads and of blocking out what he didn’t want them to know. Of course, that was why he caused so much damage. Since he couldn’t hear them anymore, he thrashed blindly through their minds, changing and destroying more than he should.

  He thought of it as a form of self-protection, even if it did come at a price. For them, the cost was steep: broken memories at best. And when he was at his messiest, a loss of self, an inability to think. But for him the consequence was even worse, for how could he ever become human again, if he still held the snake’s dark power in his fist?

  You hold it, thought Luther, but you’re not wielding it well. Luther glared out the window wishing he could strike, for then he could finally get rid of the boy. Yet he knew he couldn’t, not if he still wanted Delilah. And he did. Oh yes, how he did.

  My flower, thought Luther, stepping into the kitchen, his eyes narrowing in the faded light. “My girl,” he whispered, for there she was. Standing alone at the bar, her frail body shimmering in a silk nightgown.

  “You’re home,” she said, stumbling toward him, her wide eyes empty of everything. He took her in his arms and inhaled her scent— roses and water and cool, stale skin. The smell of the prey mixed with sleep. There was no fear; he’d taken that from her. As soon as he’d met her, he’d ripped it away.

  He stared down into her thin, drawn face, knowing it was the reason he needed her here. Her face was everything to him.

  “Jenny.” She murmured at the sound of the name. It didn’t seem to matter that it wasn’t her own, she leaned her head against him anyway. “Jenny,” he whispered. Delilah didn’t speak. He guessed she thought Jenny was a term of endearment, not the long lost name of another woman. The love he’d had so long ago, before the siren had seduced him, before he’d ever begun to change.

  “Mmm,” Delilah mumbled against his chest, lost words from a mind he’d all but destroyed. “Mmm,” he felt her breath on his neck, and his longing soared, not for her, but for the other. The one he’d left behind.

  “Jenny,” he whispered into her hair. “Jenny, Jenny.” And then it came. A heavy tug; then a sharp, painful stab; then something was slinking through his brain.

  “I hear,” crooned a voice, velvety smooth. A voice he hadn’t heard in a very long time. “Come to me, brother. Come to me now.” Luther’s chest constricted, and his skin went gray. He stepped away from Delilah and gripped the edge of the counter, his body convulsing in a wave of fear.

  “It’s time,” he whispered. “Oh God, it’s time.”

  Yes, said the voice inside his head. Yes, my brother. Yes it is. Luther peered into his wife’s vacant eyes, as the voice inside him began to laugh.

  13. The Test

  Abby stood frozen in the swirling mist. The air was cool, and her skin prickled with goose bumps. Her damp hair clung to her neck, its weight pulling uncomfortably at her scalp. I’m back, she thought and she strained her eyes, peering into the milky air. She could already hear the hissing sound, slicing through the mist like a blade. They’re coming, she thought, scanning for the shadows. Where are they? Oh please, let me wake up!

  She pinched herself hard, knowing it wouldn’t work. Not if this was the same place as before. It is, growled a voice inside her head. Not hers and definitely not Eleanor’s.

  “Who are you?” Abby asked. The voice broke into such a high, peeling laugh that, for a moment, she thought it had started to howl.

  A siren, said the voice, once the laughter had stopped. Hurry brothers. A siren has come. A siren for us to destroy.

  Abby’s throat tightened; panic flooded her veins. She wanted to run, to charge through the mist, but there was nowhere to go, no way to escape. She was standing inside a thickening cloud, and they were coming. That much was sure. Dark shadows loomed in the distance, effortlessly sliding through the white.

  Oh god, she thought, but she couldn’t get away. If this was a nightmare, she wanted out now. Yet part of her knew that this was real, as real as Brian’s eyes and the warmth of his car. As real as the dead girl in the middle of the ocean, her open mouth filled with blood.

  “Eleanor!” Abby screamed. “You have to help me now!” She felt in her pocket. The feather was there; its sleek curve cool against her skin.

  A shimmer of red glinted off to her side, and then the scarlet raven
was gliding toward her, its midnight beak open wide.

  “So little one, you’ve returned.” Eleanor’s voice was a tinkle of bells.

  “Please,” begged Abby, “wake me up.”

  “Of course,” said Eleanor, her dark eyes gleaming. “But first you must do something for me.”

  “Sssss.” The sound was louder now, and it was worming its way into Abby’s core.

  “You know what their doing,” said Eleanor. “You can sense it in your blood.” Eleanor’s beak cracked wide and a caw broke from her throat.

  “They’re calling their brothers,” said Abby slowly. Oh, how do I know this? Why do I know?

  “You just do,” snapped Eleanor, reading her mind. “It’s because you’re like them. Or, I suppose I should say, they are exactly like us. Yes, little sister, you and the serpent— the Hunter, the one you must destroy.”

  “Help me,” said Abby. They were closer now. A dark tail dove through the mist in front of her, so close she could see the scales on its back. She knew a mouth was attached to its front, one with dagger like fangs and venom to boot. They were hunting her here, tracking her scent. And Eleanor was stalling; did she want to get her killed?

  “Get the key,” squawked Eleanor, and Abby obeyed. She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled it out. Her index finger slid over the eye, which drummed against her skin like a pulse.

  “Take the key and the box and enter the water. Only then will you know the way to go.”

  “The way to go where?” shot Abby, her hands balled into fists. “Why won’t you help me get away?”

  The hissing was almost deafening now. Abby had to scream just to be heard.

  “Take the key and the box; you’ll see what to do. Promise me you will. Promise you’ll do this for me.”

  “And if I don’t?” said Abby, not sure why she asked. Only something was sliding through her mind, a quiet thought, but one she couldn’t ignore. She just wasn’t sure she could trust Eleanor. After all, hadn’t she taken her here?

  “You will,” said Eleanor, “It’s in your blood. You must stop the serpent before more innocents die. His brothers are trapped in these Shadowlands, where they can do nothing to the outside world. The Hunter is one of the few who escaped. But he is the most powerful and must be stopped. Stop him before it is you he finds. For you are his prey, oh last of our kind. It is you that he hunts, and your family too.”

  “Can’t you stop him?” said Abby, her voice raw in her throat. “Can’t you make him go away?”

  “I’m only a shade,” replied Eleanor. “I can protect you here, but not in the world of the living. There, you’re on your own. You’ve seen how he hunts; he’s been searching for you. The first kill was only to give him strength. But the other two— he grows closer with every strike. You must stop him before it’s too late. Before you are dead, and he releases his brothers and lets them reek havoc on the earth that you know.

  “Won’t you help me?” begged Abby. “I can’t fight him alone.”

  “I can help you,” said Eleanor. Her voice was a sigh. “But first you must do something for me. Close your eyes. Do it now. Then we shall see what I can do.”

  Abby swallowed hard. She wanted to run, but the snakes were closer, their hisses slicing the air. Do it, she thought. What choice do you have? Besides, she said she’d protect you, and so far she has. You just have to believe that she will.

  Behind Abby’s closed lids stood a beautiful woman, her red hair streaming down her back as thousands of creatures rose from the sea. Sirens and dolphins and turtles and sharks, all of them bowed to the scarlet haired woman, who seemed to be floating above the water, her dark wings stretching into the sky.

  And now little sister, crooned Eleanor, it’s time to wake up and finish your task. The one that rages through your body, that you must complete to save your family and all of mankind.

  Abby opened her eyes, and let out a scream as a thick black snake slid toward her, its body more than two feet in diameter, its length longer than three grown men.

  “No,” whimpered Abby, but the snake kept coming, while the scarlet bird stood and watched, unmoving in the milky air.

  “Eleanor, please!” The bird’s eyes flashed, their vibrant green matching the snake’s.

  “Eleanor!” It was closer now. Its great hood towered above her, bright eyes even with her own.

  She felt its meaning before she saw any movement, knew what it wanted before it struck. But then she heard it, the soaring cry, harsh and angry as a sob. “Alli kani ka falá!” The words streamed from her like they had before. She didn’t know their meaning, but she knew what they would do. She glanced at the bird, but her beak was closed, and her scarlet head was cocked to the side.

  “Alli kani ka falá!” Abby’s mouth filled with the taste of blood, but the song kept coming, seething in her chest, then clawing up her throat before it finally burst free.

  “Alli kani ka falá!” The snake wasn’t moving anymore. Its forked tongue lay suspended in the air, as it stared somewhere past her face, its green eyes glossy as if they’d gone blind.

  “Yes,” cooed Eleanor, fluttering forward, her voice as smooth as a lullaby. “Yes little sister, the gift is yours. You’ve passed the test. You’ll do my biding. And now I will take you home.”