Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy)

by Maija Barnett

  * * * * *

  “Abby!” Brian was shaking her, desperately trying to wake her up. She was curled so tightly in her seat that her arms and legs were completely numb. Abby wanted to move, but she didn’t know how. She wasn’t even sure who she was anymore.

  “Abby wake up! What’s wrong with you?”

  “Brian?” Abby managed to open her eyes. Bright light seared her retinas, and she immediately winced and clamped them shut again.

  “Abby, what the hell happened to you? Come on, you have to talk to me!”

  “Brian?” said Abby. She didn’t trust her own voice.

  “Abby, come on, snap out of it now!” Brian’s voice was sharp, but he sounded scared.

  “Brian.” She opened her eyes again and found his face inches from her own.

  “Abby,” he whispered, “just say you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” she said, trying to pull herself up, but the world started spinning as soon as she moved, and a whispery voice slipped through her mind.

  “You promised. You promised.” The words stretched into a song.

  “Abby, your face,” said Brian, moving away, as if recoiling from what he saw. She yanked down the vanity to see.

  The girl in the mirror was painfully lovely. Her skin was as pale as the moon. Her long, dark hair shone as if it’d been polished, and her violet eyes were impossible to read.

  “That’s not me,” whispered Abby, shoving the visor shut. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true.

  “I’m changing,” she whispered. “I really am. What I saw in my dream, it changed me somehow. I’m turning into something I don’t want to be.”

  “Did you know you were screaming?” said Brian, his hands on the wheel. He was gripping it so hard that his knuckles were white. “I pulled over Abby. I didn’t know what to do. I’ve never heard anyone scream like that before. I tried saying your name. I shook you and everything, but you wouldn’t wake up. And then,” he shoved his hair from his eyes in the endearing gesture she was growing to love, “and then you curled up really tight in your seat. It was like a spasm or something, I don’t know. I kept yelling your name until you finally came to. And then; well, you saw yourself in the mirror.”

  A tightness slid through Abby’s chest, and she scrubbed at her eyes, unsure what to say. “Brian,” she whimpered, staring into his face. “Brian, I don’t know what to do.”

  “What did you see in your dream?” asked Brian. His voice came out thin, like he didn’t really want to know.

  “I don’t know,” she paused, not sure she should say. Just tell him, she thought. You need his help anyway.

  “Okay,” she whispered, staring down at her hands. She really hoped he wouldn’t think she was nuts, though she guessed it was too late for that already. “In my dream, well, Eleanor was there, but she looked like a bird— a scarlet raven. And this giant snake was after me. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Abby shuddered, but then gained back her control. Come on, she thought. He needs to know. “Anyway,” said Abby, taking a breath, “I started singing and the snake thing froze. It just stood there, like it was stunned or something.”

  “Like at Logan,” said Brian.

  “Yeah, just like that. Only Eleanor, she wasn’t frozen at all. She said the whole thing was some sort of test, and that now that I’d passed, she’d show me how to find the killer. She told me what to do, but I just don’t know.”

  “What did she say?” asked Brian, as he flipped on the ignition and the Camry spurted back to life. The familiar sound of the engine relaxed his features. While he merged back onto the road, Abby searched out the window for a glimpse of the sea. All she could see was a few dull shrubs and several patches of yellow grass.

  “Good bye,” she whispered as her insides quaked, and she resisted the urge to leap out of the car and sprint down the highway and into the waves.

  “Brian,” said Abby, finally turning to him. “Something bad is happening, and I don’t know what. Eleanor, she wants me to do something for her— to go into the water with the mermaid box and the key. She said I’ll know where to go from there, that I’ll learn how to kill whoever murdered those girls.”

  Brian stayed silent, his eyes on the road.

  “I don’t want you to go.” His voice came out small, but it gained strength as he continued on. “How can you trust some siren from your dreams? This Eleanor,” he said the name like it was spit. “How do you know she’s on your side? You have no idea if she’s even real.”

  “What about the feather?” said Abby.

  Brian made a face.

  “What? You think I’m making it up? Do you think I’m crazy? Is that what you think?”

  “No, Abby, that’s not what I said. It’s just— what about that thing that chased you in the water? Do you really think it’s smart to go back in there right now?”

  “It’s not smart,” said Abby, running her hands through her hair, as if she could brush all her problems away. “But I don’t think I have a choice. Eleanor made that pretty clear. Besides, that thing in the water is coming after me. Me and Jake and apparently the rest of the world too.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Brian. Abby could smell the fear rolling off him in waves.

  “In the dream world I keep visiting, well, somehow it’s real. There’s monsters there, Brian, and they want to escape. I have to stop them before they get loose.”

  “What about this Eleanor? If she’s got so much power, why can’t she do it herself.”

  “I don’t know,” whispered Abby. “She just can’t. She said I’m the last living siren, so it has to be me.”

  “Don’t do it,” said Brian. “There’s got to be another way. Or at least let me come with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “Are you a merman?” scoffed Abby. “What choice do I have?”

  “There’s always a choice!” Brian yelled.

  Something inside Abby began to churn. A terrible power, and it couldn’t be stopped. Get out, said a voice inside her head. It was Eleanor. Abby recognized the tone— like a thousand bells captured in a single note. If you care for this boy, then get out now!

  A sharp heat seared Abby’s hip. The feather, it was burning through her pocket. She knew she’d better do what Eleanor said.

  “Brian, stop the car!” Her voice got his attention. It sounded different, harsher. He began to go pale.

  “You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered. “I hear it in your voice. That sound— I can tell what you’re going to do.”

  Get out, moaned Eleanor. Do it now.

  “Stop the car,” shrieked Abby, but it was already coming, rolling straight through her, out of control.

  Abby clenched her jaws as tightly as she could. Anything to contain the horrible sound. “Brian,” she shouted, “let me out, then drive away as fast as you can!” Her body was cramping; she could barely keep it in. “Please, Brian, I don’t want you here. Hurry, you have to get away.”

  “I can’t just leave you,” gasped Brian.

  “Yes you can! Go see your dad. Find out what he knows. It’s not safe for me to be near you now.”

  “Abby, please, don’t make me do this!” But the look on his face told her he knew it had to be done.

  Brian slammed the Camry onto the shoulder, tires squealing as he pounded the breaks. Horns blared around them, but Abby didn’t care. She leaped out the door and onto the blacktop, her mouth wide open, the song hot in her throat. No, she begged, give him time to get away. But already she was on the ground, her body vibrating from the power of it all. When she finally looked up, the Camry was out of sight. It was her only comfort as she began to sing.

  14. Prison

  Brian hit the gas, and the Camry flew down 495. The windows were closed and the air rushed past, so there was no way he could actually hear. Yet he could still feel Abby’s voice rising inside him, burning his insides, tearing him down. “Don’t,” he whispered, and he cleared his m
ind, focusing only on the road ahead, on the cherry colored pickup he’d just sped past and the minivan probably loaded with kids, heading off to some soccer game.

  Only he couldn’t really block out his thoughts, and he kept seeing how she’d looked when he’d left her on the side of the highway. Her dark hair covering half her face as she’d crumpled onto the asphalt with nowhere to go. Part of him wanted to drive back and get her, pull her into the car and keep her safe. But he knew he couldn’t. She didn’t want him to. Besides, she’d told him to leave her; she’d let him escape. She’d wanted him gone before she did something bad. Something she obviously couldn’t control.

  Signs, Brian. Just focus on the signs. He knew his exit was coming up. He’d seen several signs for Bridgewater and Plymouth, and now here it was: Exit 5. He merged off the highway and onto Route 18, gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles ached. He didn’t know what was bothering him more: Abby’s sudden, involuntary attempt to kill him, or the fact that he was about to see his dad.

  He hadn’t seen his father since the trial. His mother never let him. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was Luther who wouldn’t allow it, she just went along with whatever the guy said. Not that she could defy him anyway. It’s pretty hard, thought Brian, when your minds rotted away. But you still could have gone. Brian sucked in his cheeks. You had Dad’s car. You were just too scared.

  He was less than a mile off the highway, and already he could see a dark catacomb of buildings shooting up from the earth. “Bridgewater State Hospital,” read a deep blue sign. “Home sweet home,” Brian whispered sadly as he guided the Camry toward a brick guard station where a man with a military crew cut checked his I.D. and directed him to visitor parking.

  The whole area was surrounded by barbed-wire fencing, and there were two lookout towers right in front. Brian guessed that they housed guards with guns. Jesus, thought Brian. It was hard to believe his father actually lived here. It was a misnomer to call the place a hospital. Really, it was part of Massachusetts’s prison system.

  Brian wondered if he should have made an appointment. He’d only glanced at the website, so though he knew when visiting hours were, he didn’t know the protocol. He took a deep breath, shoved the Camry into park, then reached into the backseat and grabbed Abby’s purse. She’d forgotten it when she’d jumped out of the car, which was fine because now he could show the mermaid box to his dad.

  Brian was about to get out when he decided to check the box one more time. Never know if they’ll let you bring it in, he thought, regretting not reading the website a little more closely before taking off from school. For the millionth time, he wished he had a smart phone. But Luther had stopped the family plan right after he’d married Brian’s mom. He said it was an extraneous expense, but Brian knew Luther got one through the force. And since his mother rarely left the house, he guessed there was some truth in what Luther said after all.

  So, just to be safe, Brian memorized the symbols. It wasn’t hard; he’d always been good at that stuff. In fact, when he was around six or seven, his mom had been convinced he had a photographic memory. She’d had him tested and the doc had said yes. She’d wanted to put him in some special class, but this was before his dad had gotten tenure, and neither his parents nor his elementary school had the dough. They’d ended up mainstreaming him along with everyone else. Not that Brian had minded much. School had been as easy as breathing for him.

  “Okay,” he whispered, when he’d gotten it down. It only took a minute or two. He briefly wished he had the key, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

  He slipped the mermaid box into his backpack and headed for the entrance marked visitor. It was hard to miss with its bright, yellow sign, but he stopped well before the door anyway.

  Go back, he thought. Go find her and run. His chest started to constrict, and he couldn’t stop thinking about waking up in the psych ward. About the feral growls that had lunged out of him instead of words. You don’t have to do this, Brian thought. You don’t have to see him.

  “Yes you do.” Her voice was in his head.

  “Abby,” he whispered. There was no response.

  I’m losing it, he thought, fear twisting inside him. Yet he knew he had to do this; there was no other way.

  Brian was buzzed in by a guard behind a thick, metal desk. This one wore a crew cut too, and from where he stood, Brian could see a gun hanging from a holster at the man’s waist. Brian’s stomach flip-flopped, but he pretended to feel fine. You’re not being committed, he thought. You’re a visitor now. They can’t do anything to you.

  “Help you?” said the guard, and when he spoke, his mossy teeth gleamed with grime. Brian wondered if he ever bothered to brush.

  “Yeah,” said Brian, “I’m here to see my dad. Um, I mean Dr. David Baker. I didn’t make an appointment.”

  “Don’t need to,” said the guard, his voice professional and cool. “Just give me your wallet, keys, and any other personal belongings you might be carrying. Then head on through the metal detector. You’re too young for a pacemaker or implanted defibrillator, right?”

  Brian nodded and the guard went on. “Once you’re through, I’ll give you your ID back. You can get the rest of your stuff on your way out. You gotta walk down the hall about twenty feet or so till you get to the visiting area. When you’re there, take a number from the dispenser on the wall. There’s a bunch of Request to Visit Inmate forms on the table next to the dispenser. Fill one out and give it to the guard on duty. When he’s ready, he’ll buzz your father out.”

  “Can I bring this in?” asked Brian, holding his backpack in his fist.

  “That’s a negative,” said the guard, his eyes getting small.

  He just said that, thought Brian. You’re missing stuff now.

  “Nothing goes in,” said the guard, speaking slower this time, like he’d gotten the impression Brian wasn’t too bright. “You gotta leave all your personal belongings with me.”

  Brian sighed and handed the guard his pack, glad he’d looked at the box before coming inside.

  “Wallet, and keys,” reminded the guard. Brian suspected that the guy thought he was a little bit off. Which isn’t far from the truth, thought Brian, as he handed over everything he had.

  “Now walk through,” said the guard. Brian took a deep breath and pretended he was at the airport. It wasn’t that different anyway. He ignored the dull ache in the pit of his stomach, the one that felt like he’d swallowed bits of ground glass.

  Luther, he thought. This is all your fault. A metallic taste spread through his mouth, and he could actually see himself throttling his stepfather. He watched Luther’s thin, crusty lips turn purplish gray, as his green eyes begged for Brian to stop.

  “You okay?” asked the guard, his eyes narrowing again.

  Oh no, thought Brian. He’s not gonna let me in.

  “You look a little sick. You’re a first timer, right?’

  “First timer?” Brian froze. What was going on? Were they committing him too?

  “You’ve never visited before. It’s your first time here.”

  “Oh, right,” said Brian, relief flooding his chest. He considered trying for his stuff again. But he knew he wouldn’t get it, so what was the point?

  “All clear,” said the guard, wagging his head, but his dark eyes stayed on Brian, dissecting him like he must do all the crazies, the sex offenders and whoever else they housed here.

  Brian nodded and walked through the metal detector, snatching up his ID before the guard said another word. He’d only gone a couple of paces when the hall opened into a large concrete room that looked a lot like the cafeteria at school. Three rows of metal picnic tables, four tables deep were laid out across the floor. Each had a number painted on its center. The room was empty, save for a wiry haired guard with gnawed looking skin who sat at a desk behind a glass cubicle at the far end of the room. Brian wished he could just walk up and ask to see his dad. After all, he wa
s the only visitor here. But he followed the protocol and pulled a number from the gray dispenser that clung to the wall closest to the guard. Forty-five, he thought. Same age as my dad. He slid a Request to Visit form off the stack on the table next to the dispenser and filled it out. When he was done, he walked over to the guard.

  “Wait,” said the guard once he’d taken Brian’s form, glaring beneath his red, scaly brow.

  “Okay,” said Brian, his stomach starting to churn. He could feel the guard sizing him up, as if Brian were some sort of threat.

  “ID,” barked the guard. Brian handed him his driver’s license. It felt like he was dealing with a customs official, and he was in serious jeopardy of being placed under arrest.

  “Forty–five,” said the guard into a black CB, his eyes still locked on Brian. “Go ahead,” he sneered, finally looking away. Brian could tell by the man’s tone that he’d made his decision: Brian was worse than dirt. Anyone with a father in here must be. “Take a seat at five. Your old man’ll be up soon.”

  Brian nodded and walked over to table five, its number painted in red scratchy strokes across the metallic gray. He couldn’t believe how empty the place was. It was 5:40 on a Tuesday night. The visitor center was supposedly open until six. It’s because no one wants to visit the sick-o’s in here. That’s why the guards keep looking at you like you’re some sort of freak.

  Brian hated to admit it, but it was probably true. He was, after all, in a psychiatric hospital that housed mostly sex offenders and the criminally insane. Not the type of folks anyone would want to see. He guessed even the inmates own families chose to stay away. He certainly had— at least until now.

  Come on Dad, thought Brian, get out here soon. He kept thinking of Abby on 495. He wondered how she planned on getting home.

  She could get killed, he thought. Someone could hit her with their car. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. She’d be okay; she’d find a way out. She was a mythical creature, for Christ’s sake. A freeway couldn’t stop someone like her.

  A door pounded shut, and Brian glanced up. There was his father in an orange jumpsuit, being escorted out by two very large guards. Brian sucked in his breath, and the air stung his throat. He couldn’t believe how his father had changed. He’d been a man who’d walked with his head held high, like he was proud of where life was taking him. His dark hair had held only a hint of gray, and his skin had been tanned from all those years digging in the sun. But the face of the man walking toward him now had a sad, defeated look. His shoulders sloped toward the floor, his thinning hair was the color of steel. But it was his eyes that were the most different of all. Where they used to sparkle with life, now they were as dull as a pair of stones. Brian had a feeling that even if his father hadn’t been mad when he’d first entered Bridgewater, odds were that he was now.

  “Dad,” said Brian. He tried to get up, but one of the guards motioned for him to stay seated.

  “Fifteen minutes,” growled the guard who’d told Brian to sit. “We close at six, and we don’t make no exceptions.”

  “Sure,” said his father, his voice coming out forced. The look on his face when the guards walked away was relief mixed with something else— something difficult for Brian to see, for his father’s face shone with fear.

  Brian tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t work, so instead he stared at his fathers white, prison issue, slip-on sneakers. He guessed they didn’t let the inmates wear laces in here.

  “How’s your mother?” asked his father, staring him in the eyes. And for a second he looked like he always had. The cloud had lifted; he wanted to know.

  “Married,” said Brian.

  “And not to me.” His dad didn’t flinch, but Brian could feel the anger, radiating off his father in waves.

  “To that snake Pentos. I read it in the paper. At least I get that one luxury here in Hell!”

  “Dad,” said Brian, his father reached out his hand. It was an unusual gesture; they’d never touched much before. But Brian wrapped his fingers around his father’s, feeling the chill of the older man’s skin.

  “Dad,” repeated Brian, his voice filled with regret.

  “You don’t have to say it,” said his father, reading his mind. “I know why you never came before. It was him, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t allow it.”

  Brian nodded and swallowed his shame, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. Because he’d never pushed Luther, he’d never demanded to go. He’d been too afraid of what he would find. When they’d hauled his father into court, the man had been raving like a lunatic. It’d been painful to see. And so Brian had abandoned him here, locked away in his orange hell. A second bolt of shame exploded in his chest, but he held his father’s gaze and refused to look away.

  “So she married him,” said his father. “That disgusting snake.”

  “Snake?” whispered Brian.

  “Don’t play dumb, boy! I know you know. That’s why you came here, right? To ask the questions, the ones you wouldn’t ask before. Has he threatened you Brian? Has he hurt your mom?” His father’s fingers tightened around Brian’s hand like a tourniquet, cutting off the flow of blood.

  “No,” said Brian, but then he paused, and his mother’s dead eyes loomed in his mind. “Dad,” whispered Brian, not sure he should tell him. Did his father really need to know what had been lost? Luckily his father wasn’t listening anymore. He was staring instead at the guards in the room, his eyes shifting nervously between the three men. Brian had never seen him like this before. There was an anxious look to his father now. Like a dog waiting for that final kick, it’s mangy body taut with fear. But then he leaned over the table and spat his words into Brian’s face. His hot, sour breath made Brian want to gag.

  “He stuck me in here, locked me up like an animal. Goddammit Brian, you don’t know what it’s like. But he lied. He deceived everyone but me because he was the one who murdered my men, who poisoned them with his terrible fangs. Those fangs!” His dad began to rock in his seat, his eyes flashing between Brian and the guards.

  “Shock treatments,” he hissed, his breath back in Brian’s face. It was all Brian could do not to pull away. “They give me shock treatment in here, and worse stuff too. Injections! They think they can cure me from the truth. But you know Brian! You’ve discovered his secret. You can help me! You can get me out!” His father’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his nails dug into Brian’s wrist.

  Oh god, thought Brian. He’s having a seizure. What am I supposed to do? “Dad!” he said, praying the guards weren’t watching. “Dad, are you okay?”

  “I saw him out on the water that day,” said his father. A thin line of drool slid from the corner of his mouth and darkened the collar of his orange jumpsuit.

  “Dad?” said Brian, but it was as if his father were in a trance. He kept on talking, but his voice was flat. He seemed barely aware that Brian was there.

  “He was in a yellow kayak, calling to us. Waiting, like he wanted to get up close. The water was rough; we thought he was in trouble. And it’s not like we could leave a man out there to die. So I spun the boat around, spread the sails. We were coming right at him when everything changed. I don’t know when they got there. I could hardly see. A huge wave rolled up and almost capsized us, and that’s when we saw them in the water. Two monstrous snakes like something out of a dream. At first I thought that Pentos had been eaten, but when he showed up in court, I realized I’d been wrong.

  “No,” whispered Brian, wishing his father would stop, though part of him wanted to hear it again. Because part of him knew, part of him believed.

  “But they couldn’t kill me. I got away!” His father was starting to cackle now. Brian wanted to ask him to keep it down. The guards were watching everything, but there was no way he could get his father to stop.

  “And do you know why?” asked his father. “Because I kept them out of my head, that’s why. I kept them from digging through my brain. The others, no. They l
istened to the call. Their eyes glazed over like they were in some sort of trance. And then they jumped in the water, right into their mouths. I had to watch those two monsters devour my friends, knowing there was nothing I could do.”

  Brian knew his dad was about to cry. Yet, somehow he managed to gain control. He wiped at his mouth, and drool splattered onto the table. But he was back, and he knew what he’d said.

  “Brian,” he croaked, his voice thick with tears, “I could block it out. I don’t know how, but I did it when no one else could. Then they capsized the boat, so I jumped into the dinghy. I kept it together, until she called. That’s when I thought I was done.”

  “She?” said Brian, his heart pounding in his chest. Please, oh please, don’t let him say her name.

  “A woman,” said his father. “I’ve never seen anyone like her before. She was even more beautiful than your mom.” Brian felt himself blush, but his dad didn’t notice. His father’s eyes closed as he remembered the lady in the water, and a sense of peace slid through him as he spoke.

  “She was amazing, Brian. She had billowing hair; her face was like a goddess, nothing less. She was a siren. I knew it the moment I saw her. Even after studying the Poseidon Stone, I wasn’t convinced they were real. I thought the Stone was about people, not magical beings like her. But there she was, calling to me. Well, not me really.” His father opened his eyes. He glanced over at the guards before speaking again. “She screamed something at me before she started to sing. Or maybe she just said it inside my head. I don’t know how it works, but I know what she said. She told me not to listen to her song. To cover my ears, she begged me to do it. And the funny thing was, I wanted to hear. More than anything else, I wanted to know her sound. But she kept on pleading, and I finally listened. I stuffed my fingers in my ears and yanked the motor on. Then I curled myself up in the bottom of the dinghy and let it carry me away. I never looked back. I never heard. All I know was that she took care of those monsters. Took care of them until the courtroom anyway. I knew he was one of them, not that I could prove anything. Hell, even your mother thought I’d gone mad. But the way that he looked at me, the way he moved. I thought he’d been eaten, but there he was. And now,” his father scanned the room, as if taking it in for the very first time. The concrete walls, the bar covered windows, the metal picnic tables chained to the floor. “Now they all think I’m insane, but I’m not. I never was. You know Brian. We both know the truth.”

  Brian nodded his head, but he wasn’t listening anymore. All he could see was Luther’s face. Luther, who’d taken everything he had— his father, his mother, and he still wanted more.

  “Isn’t that why you came?” asked his father. “You wanted to hear my side of the story, and now that you’ve heard it, you’re going to help.”

  “Five minutes,” shouted the guard with the raw looking skin. How had the time gone so fast?

  Ask him, thought Brian, pulling his hand away. Do it now, before it’s too late.

  “Dad,” whispered Brian, “I’ve got something to say.”

  His father cocked his head, like he was taken by surprise.

  “I found a siren,” said Brian, leaning in close, not wanting the guards to overhear. He’d spent enough time in the nut house already. There was no way he planned on going back now.

  “Another?” asked his father. “Not the one in the water?”

  “Not her,” said Brian. “She wasn’t involved in any of that. She and I,” he stumbled, unsure how to proceed. “Listen, Dad. I need your help.” Brian glanced at the clock posted above the guard station. They only had a few minutes left. “She has a box,” he whispered, “with letters on it. I’ve looked at them enough. I can write them for you. Do you think the guards will let me have a pencil and paper?”

  “No,” said his dad. “They’ll either call it a weapon, or they’ll think that your drawing an escape map for me. But lucky for us that being incarcerated has made me a pretty tricky guy.” Brian watched his dad slide a pencil stub out of his sleeve.

  “Listen son, just write it on the table. And do it carefully, we don’t want them to see.”

  Brian scratched the inscription across the metal tabletop, while keeping his head up and his shoulders straight in a pose he hoped looked like he was still just talking. It was only twenty characters, but it took him a while. Too long, because he could hear one of the guards walking toward them, his boots slapping against the concrete floor. No, thought Brian, his throat going dry. “Dad,” said Brian, rushing to finish. “Tell me, what does it say?”

  His father smiled a pitiful smile. Come on, thought Brian. Tell me now.

  “The snake and the siren,” creaked his father, his fingers shaking in Brian’s own. “The snake and the siren will conjoin. Open me to protect, open me to obey. Open me to hunt. Open me to save.”

  “Time,” called the guard, who was at their side, his thick, hoary fingers digging into Brian’s dad’s arm.

  “Wait,” said his father, tears flooding his eyes. “I took too much time. I didn’t hear enough. Let me hug my son. Let me hug him goodbye.”

  The room grew shaky and a little too bright. Keep it together, thought Brian. Don’t lose it now.

  “No touching,” spat the guard. “You know the rules. Besides, you’ve gotta go. I’ve got kids of my own waiting for me. You two crazies had enough time already.” Brian cringed when he heard that. How could the guard know about him? But then his father was leaping forward, wrapping Brian in his arms. The guard let out a a yell, and then both guards were on them, trying to pull his father away.

  “Don’t open it,” gasped his father, his mouth pressed to Brian’s ear. “Don’t open that thing whatever you do. The snake and the siren will conjoin. That’s why she was in the water that day. You can’t trust them Brian, they’re with the snakes. I don’t know why she rescued me. I have no idea what she wants. But she didn’t save the others; she let them die. And her eyes, Brian, they glowed like electric lights. Just like those monsters in the sea. The two are connected; I know they are! The girl, I don’t know who you think she is, but she’s dangerous. She’s one of them.”

  His father let out a moan, and his body went limp. Brian looked up and saw the guard who’d said their time was up, his billy club raised above his head.

  “You hit him!” screamed Brian. “You hit my dad!” Rage coursed through Brian, but he was defenseless in here. Then one of the guards started dragging him backward, pulling him toward the door. Someone kicked him hard in the back, and before he knew what was happening, he was lying outside on the pavement, his backpack and keys on the ground near his head. When he looked up, the guard with the green, mossy teeth was peering down at him, a mean glint in his eyes.

  “Don’t come back,” warned the guard, sneering at Brian. “Don’t ever come back here again, you hear?”

  Brian watched as the guard entered the building, heard the doors clink shut and lock on their own.

  “No,” whispered Brian, his dad’s face in his mind. “You can’t leave him here.” Yet, what choice did he have?

  He stumbled to his feet, gritting his teeth at the pain in his back. Then he snapped his pack and keys off the ground and hobbled toward the parking lot. It wasn’t until he’d reached his car that he even realized he was sobbing. Snot and tears poured down his face, making it hard for him to breathe.

  “Get a grip,” said Brian, his voice thick with phlegm. “You know what you have to do.” Then he slid into his father’s taped up Camry, and headed toward the highway again. Soon the prison was just a shadow behind him, growing smaller and smaller as he rode away.

  15. Hunted

  Luther Pentos stood at the edge of the sea, his insides prickling as if he’d already submerged. He listened to the wind whistling through the dunes and allowed himself to be drawn in by its sound. It helped him forget what this really was.

  No one was supposed to be out here tonight, not alone with a killer on the loose. Even the chief of
police should keep up his guard. If he were a man, he would have been afraid. But you’re not a man, thought Luther, tasting the salty night with his tongue. And no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to be one again.

  A thick glob of guilt stuck in his throat, as he remembered what he’d done. He glared down at his deceptively human hands and closed his fingers into fists. He could still feel Delilah’s breath on his throat, taste the scent of her skin. He remembered the weight of her chin in his hand the first time he forced her to stare into his eyes and forget everything.

  And now, he thought, peering into the sea, now I must see what the Hunter wants. I must ask him to stop, before it’s too late. Before he destroys all that I have.

  Luther stood at the edge of the Clifton shoreline, remembering why he’d first come to this town. He’d wanted to distance himself from the shipwreck in Provincetown and all the dark ways he’d been involved. So he’d moved Delilah and her boy down here, pretending he’d done so to give them a fresh start. He’d wanted to move even farther away, but something drew him to the Cape’s chilly waters. He’d lost so much of his serpent senses, he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But he couldn’t leave, that much was certain. Only now he sincerely wished that he had. For then this meeting might not be happening, and maybe the Hunter would have left him alone.

  Luther stepped toward the waves, his nostrils widening, breath growing deep. The sea called to him, as it always did. Though he was capable of changing on land, the water was his true home. He felt an unexpected shift, and that dark space inside him that was usually empty filled again, so cold and sweet. Every pore on his body opened, and his skin darkened and began to grow thick.

  An awful hiss slid through Luther’s mind. Anyone else would have assumed it was the wind, but he knew better, of course he knew. The skin on the back of his neck broke out in goosebumps. His hair bristled. It was almost time.

  Suddenly he felt very vulnerable. In his human form he was weak, practically a sitting duck for the thing that was coming. But even when he completed the change, he would be nothing compared to the Hunter. Nothing but the weakest of worms. If the Hunter wanted, he could take him in a single stroke.

  “But I don’t,” said the voice, inside him now. Luther felt the lie reverberate through his mind.

  Into the water, thought Luther. Get in now. It’s the only way you have a chance. Luther started to move then froze again. He could feel the Hunter sliding over the sand, waiting to call him home.

  Luther took one last look at the frozen moon and the onyx waves that slashed at the shore. Then, knowing there was no way to escape, he turned and faced the monster behind him. His body melted into itself— eyes narrowing, face going thin. He felt the familiar crunch of bone, the accompanying pain as he dropped to the ground and his arms folded in and adhered to his sides. He licked at his lips, a human gesture. But, suddenly, they were gone. In their place lay a layer of scales, cold and hard and strong as steel.

  And still the Hunter waited in the sand. His body gleaming in the moonlight, head slightly forward, hood open wide. Luther felt the Hunter’s eyes on him, tasted the other snake’s scent in the air. Still, the Hunter bided his time.

  But now Luther was watching too, watching and waiting for the Hunter’s command. There was no need to speak anymore. In the Brotherhood, all minds were linked and language became mere thoughts alone. Only Luther found, as he probed with his mind, that the Hunter’s powers were far beyond his own. For the great snake’s brain was an impenetrable blank, while Luther could feel the Hunter sliding through his, unveiling all there was to know.

  Then he heard it in his head, the angry hiss, harsher than a storm. “Luther Pentos,” said the Hunter. “Don’t be afraid.” But Luther couldn’t stop the panic from rising as he stared at this creature, so much larger than himself. Its body was as thick as a grandfather tree, and its eyes burned with such intensity that they seemed to be scorching into Luther’s soul. His only wish was to look away, yet he found he could not. He couldn’t move.

  He knows my secret, thought Luther. He knows what I’m trying to do.

  “Yes,” said the Hunter, sliding forward until he was directly in front of Luther, his black snout inches from Luther’s own.

  “Look at me brother. Look into my eyes.” All Luther could do was obey.

  He wanted to run, to charge into the sea and make his escape from this terrible thing. Because part of him was different now. All his hard work to become human again had helped him ignore what he really was. He hadn’t made the change in so long, that his own presence filled him with disgust. And there was nothing he could do to hide these thoughts. The great snake knew everything.

  “Yes,” said the hunter, inside Luther’s mind. The great snake’s head swayed in the night.

  “Master.” Luther spoke with his thoughts alone. Then he bowed in reverence to the monster before him, while his eyes remained locked on the Hunter’s own.

  Luther was amazed at how freely his words flowed through his thoughts. He’d forgotten how simple it was, like breathing. And that ease made him start to enjoy it again, to revel in the power of it all.

  “No,” growled the Hunter. “Do not bow to me human, for we are brothers no longer.”

  “Human?” said Luther, fear spilling through his blood. But he tried to control it, to keep it in check.

  “Yes, human,” growled the Hunter, his green eyes growing bright. “I know what you’re doing. I know what you’ve done. You’ve forsaken your brothers, forgotten what you are.”

  And then the great snake stretched forward and pressed his head against Luther’s own. “Remember,” said the Hunter, his eyes staring into Luther’s. “Remember, human. Remember it all.”

  A sharp light flashed through Luther’s mind, and his insides writhed in pain. No, he thought, you don’t want to see. But then the memories began rushing in. Memories he’d blocked out for so long, it was like they’d happened to somebody else. Only now they burned behind his eyes, charged through his brain, and there would be no relief.

  “Stop,” pleaded Luther. But the Hunter wouldn’t stop, and so he was forced to watch it all.

  Luther remembered his days in the Shadowlands; could taste the wetness of the air; the cool, dry smell of earth mixed with the scent of his brothers’ skin. He’d been trapped there, along with the rest of his kind. The Hunter had been there, though they’d called him Master then. For it was he who was wed to the siren queen. Yet his lover had left him trapped in the night, to await death forever as she became a shade. And so they remained, banding together, these forgotten monsters who used to be men. They’d waited as their sirens lost their strength, watched them die out one by one. But though it hurt to see their mistresses disappear, their anger over what the sirens had turned them into charged like fire through their cold, black veins.

  Luther remembered the bond between the serpents, that feeling of safety in the forgotten men who’d found strength in one another. And yet he’d been different even then. For though he had loved his siren seducer, it was his young wife’s face that stung his eyes, that slid through his mind when he tried to sleep. His darling Jenny, whom he’d left behind.

  “Yes,” said the Hunter, breaking into his thoughts. “Yes, Luther Pentos, you remember well. But can you recall your betrayal? I should have killed you in the water when you attacked the scientists’ ship. I should never have let you become what you are. But she wouldn’t allow it; she made me let you go. She would have saved them all, if she’d gotten there fast enough. She abhors wasting lives; it’s the bane of her kind. She only wanted me to destroy the vessel, not the men who sailed it through the waves.”

  “Master,” moaned Luther. “Forgive me now.” And yet he could see it in his mind like it was happening all over again. The Shadowlands, with its thick slab of sky. He’d wanted to find her; he’d needed his Jenny again. Even though she would have been an old woman by then, he hadn’t cared. He’d needed to see. And so he’d
followed when the siren queen had come calling, wooing the Hunter, her eternal beloved. Her beauty still shone though she’d been in spirit form then, left to wander the Shadowlands as a shade. For her magic kept her there, and she didn’t fade away. She held her form when her sisters could not. It was then that he finally understood how powerful she was.

  When he’d heard her call, he’d decided to follow, to leave his brothers and chase her into the night. And so he had seen the pathway through the water, the entrance into the world he had lost long ago.

  The Hunter never went; he stayed with his beloved, curling around her in the milky waves. Yet, somehow, Luther had slipped by them and slithered into the ocean night.

  “Yes,” said the Hunter, his eyes like two green lanterns. They seared Luther’s face, but he still couldn’t look away. “We didn’t feel you. Even she didn’t know. At least not until you were already gone.”

  Something inside Luther was changing now, was reverting back to what he’d been before. Before the time he’d met Delilah and sabotaged her husband, so he could take her as his own. He was back to the time right after the change, when his body glowed with an obscene force. When the power of the snake coursed through his blood, and nothing could stop him. Nothing at all.

  “It’s returning,” said the Hunter. “I can feel it now. Yes, it’s coming. All your power is back. But dare we forgive you who’ve forsaken us all? You, who abandoned your brothers to be human again?”

  “Master,” said Luther, still speaking with his mind. “I was only seeking what all of us crave.”

  “To be a man,” said the Hunter, eyes hot as the sun.

  “To be a man,” replied Luther. “That’s all any of us want.” Then the feeling of power slipped away, and he became lost in his serpent body, like an impostor who’d just been found out.

  “You weren’t protecting us in the water when I came to your aid,” said the Hunter, staring into Luther’s soul. “She let me out, sent me to help you; while she stayed behind and spoke with her sisters, instructing them in what had to be done. But she kept such tight control over me that I couldn’t have escaped if I’d wanted to. She needed me to stop that little expedition, for it would have revealed the mystery of our mothers, and, in doing so, our mystery as well. Their new find was more detailed than that slab they call the Poseidon Stone. It proved too much. It had to disappear. When I saw you in the water, I thought that you were on our side. But it wasn’t our kind you were protecting. The fact that you stopped them was just a side point for you.”

  “Master, why did she let you free?” The question cut through Luther’s mind before he knew it was coming, and then it was too late to take it back. “Why did she free you from the Shadowlands?”

  “She didn’t free me. She sent me back. After we stopped the expedition, she locked me back in. But something had changed inside me then, and slowly I became released from her spell. Like you and your siren, her love bound me no longer. So I watched and I waited, for now I knew the way. And so, when the time came, I made my escape. I promised our brothers I’d come back for them, and I sneaked away, just like you. It was easy this time. For aside from my queen, the rest are formless ghosts. They have little power; it’s all leached away. It is she who is keeping us locked in that realm. And just like you, I ached to be free.”

  “To be a man?” gulped Luther.

  The Hunter laughed. “No, Luther Pentos. That is where you and I part. I belong to the Brotherhood in every way. I escaped to rid the world of those who made us— the sirens who’ve taken us for their own. For once they are gone, we will be free. Then I will lead our kind from the Shadowlands, and we will roam this earth as we were meant—in our new form, in our powerful way.”

  “As serpents?” said Luther.

  “Yes,” said the snake, its forked tongue shooting out of its mouth and caressing the side of Luther’s face. “We aren’t all like you, my friend. You haven’t accepted the transformation. But you will never be a man again.”

  “You’re wrong,” said Luther, backing away. But still he couldn’t break the stare.

  “I’m not,” said the Hunter, his mouth open wide. Luther could see the monster’s fangs, sharp as daggers beneath the distant moon. “You betrayed your brothers; you are one of us no longer. I know exactly what you are. Did you forget who I am? I’m the strongest one, the master of us all, sent to defeat the sirens so that we may taste the world again. But in this new world, we will not be men. We will be better than men, more powerful than them all. How dare you deny that? How dare you forget? How dare you dismiss your brothers for your own trivial needs.

  “I didn’t,” moaned Luther.

  “Yes, you did. I’ve watch you, human. I’ve read your thoughts, and it is selfish desire that drives you now. The motives of man— you are a brother no more.”

  “Wait,” cried Luther, out loud this time. But the great snake’s eyes had begun to change. Their green deepened and blurred into orange, then, finally, into a virulent red. “Look into my eyes, former brother of serpents. Stare into my soul, and I will take you home.”

  “Pleasssssse,” begged Luther, but he couldn’t turn away. His body was stuck, frozen on the sand. All he could do was stare into those eyes as the great snake’s head pressed against his own, hood extended, about to strike.

  “Wait,” moaned Luther, still speaking aloud, the Brotherhood’s gifts lost to him now. “Forgive me master. Please, I’ll change back. I’ll do no more wrong.” But already the fangs were at his throat, their poison bleeding into his veins. Luther stiffened and his body went numb as the venom roared through his blood, winding its way toward his heart.

  No, thought Luther. Don’t do this to me. He began to pray for his human form, for at least then he could shut his eyes, at least then he wouldn’t have to see. But suddenly her face was in his mind. But was it Delilah’s or Jenny’s? He didn’t know. Just those sweet, sad eyes; that dark, fall of hair. He’d lost everything for the sound of her voice, lost who he was and what he’d once been. Not one time but twice, and now he was done. Now there was nothing he could do.

  Consciousness was starting to slip away, and the world around him began to go dark. But Luther held on to his last moments of life, holding her face in his mind as the great black jaws widened and distended, and the Hunter began to feast.

  “No,” screamed Luther his voice human this time, a final call before he was gone.

  “Yessssss,” hissed the Hunter inside his head. “Yes, yes.” And then it was done.