Black Waters (Book 1 in the Songstress Trilogy)

by Maija Barnett

  * * * * *

  Eleanor raised her hands in the air and tilted her face skyward. Abby felt the wind shift, as the queen began to sing. “Alli quong, dee lakshme aaa.” The song that shot from Eleanor’s throat hit Abby so hard that she dropped to the ground. The words dove through the air and tore at her skin, tugging at something deep inside.

  No, thought Abby, her mind starting to reel, but Eleanor’s voice kept pummeling from above, like a thousand hammers beating at her flesh. “Alli quong dee lakshme aaa!”

  “Oh god,” Abby mumbled, her head growing light. The world was spinning as something loosened inside her, breaking away from deep in her chest.

  No, no. You have to think! Think about Brian! Think about Jake! Blood roiled up the back of her throat. It was hard to breathe, impossible to move, and yet something scratched at the back of Abby’s mind. She’d been only half lucid when she’d overheard Eleanor bragging to Brian, but she remembered it now. She knew what had to be done.

  Yes, thought Abby, her nails scratching at the rock. Eleanor was a shade like Brian and her dad. She couldn’t kill a human. She didn’t have the strength.

  “Alli quong dee lakshme aaa!” Eleanor’s words hit Abby again. The air crackled with lightening and began to smoke. Already the world was starting to fade as rocks and trees blurred into one. And through it all Eleanor’s eyes seared into Abby, as her fiery hair wiped everything out. “Alli quong dee lashme aaa!” shrieked Eleanor. The thing inside Abby loosened some more.

  You’re leaving, thought Abby. She’s almost won. Come on, you have to do this now.

  Something inside Abby began to grow hot. Then everything started flashing in white and gold. Light shot from every possible surface, glowing like sparklers during the Fourth of July. “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” A thin voice cut through the air. It was softer than Eleanor’s, but it held more passion. It took Abby a moment to realize it was coming from her.

  “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” The Killing Song pulsed through Abby’s pores, blasting over the cliff and into the sky.

  More! thought Abby, singing harder. Cast your spell. Do it now! “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” It was difficult to do. Eleanor’s voice was strong, and the pulling sensation had grown in intensity. Nausea rolled through Abby, but she pushed it away and made herself focus on the sound of her own voice.

  You’re living, thought Abby. Eleanor’s dead, and the spell she’s using is weaker than yours. She doesn’t want to kill you, she just wants your soul out. So come on, do this. Keep up your strength.

  “Alli quong dee lakshme aaa!” screamed Eleanor, her bright eyes raking over Abby’s skin. And then something ripped at Abby’s insides, and she doubled over, writhing in pain, as she tried to keep whatever it was from escaping— that part of her that she knew was her soul.

  “Alli quong dee lakshme aaa!” wailed Eleanor. Abby gritted her teeth and focused on Brian. Then she pushed herself farther than she ever had before. The sky started spinning, the waves thrashed below, and the wind began swirling even faster than before.

  “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” shrieked Abby, her fingers outstretched in the static air. She clamped her eyes shut and pictured Brian: his thick black hair, eyes trained on her. She tried to recreate ever detail: the curve of his lips, the way his fingers tapered in at the ends. Everything. His image gave her strength, so she could continue this terrible fight.

  “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” The song clawed up Abby’s throat. “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” It’s power coursed through her, and then the hail came. Thick fistfuls of ice spewed from the sky, knocking Abby flat on her chest.

  Abby buried her face in her arms as her own song tore through her, wiping everything out. “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” The spell coiled from her like a venomous snake, sucking all the oxygen out of the air. “Ma ka vaní mali lá!” Abby sang it again, but with less force this time. The terrible pulling sensation had suddenly stopped, and when she opened her eyes, she found that she was alone.

  The hail storm ended as quickly as it had began, and the gray sky turned an icy blue. It’s over, thought Abby, and I’m okay. But where did Eleanor go? Abby tried to stand, but she couldn’t hoist herself up. All her energy had been wrapped up in the song, and now that it was over, she had nothing left.

  Eleanor, where are you? Abby scanned her surroundings, taking in the cliff and the forest’s rim. Did you turn into a bird again? Abby closed her eyes and searched for Eleanor’s presence. Nothing. She couldn’t feel her anywhere. But then something slipped into Abby’s mind, a quiet hum, guttural and low.

  “Eleanor?” groaned Abby. But that wasn’t right. “No, no.” She started to crawl, dragging herself toward the edge of the cliff. It was hard, she could barely move her limbs. But fear gave her power, and so she pushed on.

  “No!” cried Abby, her eyes burning when she saw. She couldn’t believe it. Was she too late? The snake’s thick body was stretched out next to Brian, its dark head resting on Brian’s chest. If she strained hard enough she could hear it chanting; could feel its power as it tried to get in; to push Brian out of his own soul’s sheath and take his place, while the real Brian died.

  And then she heard the splintered sentences, gleaming and sharp with sweat and fear. “I’m coming,” growled the serpent inside Abby’s mind. “Don’t fight me little brother. I’m coming in.”

  Abby lurched to her feet; she knew what had to be done. And it wasn’t singing, not anymore. She was too weak for that, at least for now. Ignoring the burn shooting through her limbs, she began to hobble down the mountain, dragging herself over the empty rock.

  Abby was so focused on getting down that she didn’t notice the scattering of feathers sticking to the trees near the edge of the woods. The red bird lay on a heap of dead pine needles, its beak cracked open in surprise, wings snapped and bleeding, useless now. But its emerald eyes stayed locked on Abby, following her as she staggered forward then disappeared out of view.

  21. The Immovable Weight

  Brian hadn’t disappeared; he knew that now. Someone or something was keeping him here. He’d felt a presence when he’d jumped off the cliff, and, whatever it was, it had cushioned his fall. Even when the chill had come and he’d begun to fade, something rigid had tugged at his gut then clamped down hard, rooting him in place.

  He was so tired, he couldn’t open his eyes. It was as if he’d been lulled into a drug-induced sleep. Yet he knew he was present, could still feel his limbs. That’s how he was sure he hadn’t disappeared. Not yet, at least, but what was keeping him here? What or who? He didn’t know.

  But then he felt it, that terrible burn, only not in his body, but in his mind. Something was pushing its way inside, violating his thoughts. Violating his flesh. It was all so familiar. Oh god, he thought. He knew exactly what it was.

  Open, thought Brian. Open your eyes. Open them up. You have to see.

  Gingerly, Brian cracked his lids, but the light was so bright that his retinas burned, and a sharp bolt of pain shot through his head. He snapped his lids shut before anything was clear.

  Come on, look. You have to know. He took a deep breath and gripped his hands together, digging his nails into his palms. Still here, he thought. You’re still here. Then his lids fluttered up and he made himself see, so that he would know what was happening to him.

  He was surrounded by a layer of mist. It slid down his chest and over his thighs. He could hear voices around him, muffled at first, chanting in a language he couldn’t understand. Wait, thought Brian as the mist crept into his pores and a dull chill spread through his chest.

  And then he saw it on the ground next to him— the midnight tail, green eyes bright. “No,” he choked, but it was coming for him. It was the burn he’d felt before— the terrible pressure, the pain in his head. It felt like what Luther had done on the day of the trial when Brian had thought he was going to die.

  “No! Stop!” moaned Brian, but the eyes didn’t move. Then the black lips parted and the tong
ue slid out, tasting the air— tasting him.

  “Don’t fight me, little brother. There’s nowhere to go.” The voice in his head was thin and cruel. Its sharp tone sliced through Brian’s mind, shattering his memories, erasing who he was.

  “No!” groaned Brian. He started to scream, but all that came out was a gargled sigh.

  He tried to thrash his limbs, but he couldn’t move. The mist had thickened into a paste, gluing his body to the ground.

  “Brother,” said the snake still in Brian’s mind. “Brother, can’t you see? They were saving you for me. Without them, you would have faded away. Your soul would be lost; you could never return.”

  The snake slithered forward and placed its head on Brian’s chest. Its tongue gently caressed his neck then slipped downward until it settled above his heart. “Now little brother,” the snake’s voice was soft, “it’s time to give in. It’s time to die. Your siren can’t save you, she is weaker than our queen. And so you are mine, to have for myself.”

  “Please,” begged Brian, but the snake was on him, its sharp fangs sinking into his throat. Brian’s world exploded in bright bolts of pain. He couldn’t move; he couldn’t even scream. All he could do was lie there and listen as the cold voice told him what it was going to do.

  “Little brother, it’s time for you to leave. Your soul sheath is mine now, to inhabit as I will. As your consciousness fades, mine will move in. And when you are revived from this world of shadows, it is I who will ascend. You will be gone.”

  “No,” gurgled Brian. His mouth tasted like dirt. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be true. Yet all around him he could hear a frantic humming, as incomprehensible chanting seeped into his skin.

  Spirits, thought Brian. Then he knew what they were. Siren spirits, he recognized their song. They sounded like Abby that time in the car, only weaker, darker. They meant no good.

  “Help me,” he whimpered, but the world was starting to dim. “Please, don’t let him become part of me.”

  Then something snapped in Brian’s chest, and Luther’s face shot through his mind. He remembered when Luther had tried to get inside his mind, and he’d been able to block him, keep him away. Mostly, Brian had done nothing at all. But on the few times Luther had really pushed to get in, Brian had made himself visualize a wall, and it had always been enough to keep his stepfather out. Do it, thought Brian. Do it now. If you don’t then this monster will take over your body. He’ll hurt your mother and Abby too.

  Brian took a deep breath and cleared his mind. And when he did so, the burning inside him receded. Then he imagined a brick wall ten feet thick, its surface weathered, mortar dull and stained. The top climbed so high you could hardly see where it ended, but he could still hear the snake coming through, loosening bricks, knocking them away, until it had made a pathway and slid inside.

  “Little brother.” The snake’s voice was hoarse, and its raspy panting rang sharp in Brian’s mind. “Let me in. There’s nothing you can do.”

  It’s getting tired, thought Brian. Don’t give in. The poison was growing stronger now. His limbs were on fire, and it was hard to think. Do this, he thought. Forget the pain. This is your only chance. After this, you’ll be gone.

  This time he imagined the view his father saw every day. It was a simple fence, over thirty feet high. Razor sharp wires looped over its top, and armed guards hovered in the towers nearby. Behind this fence he pictured a thick sheet of iron, dull and heavy: an immovable weight. He shoved the iron up against the fence, and once it was sturdy and his picture was clear, he pushed himself into a corner of his mind, hating the feeling of the snake sliding in. For it had already found a way through the fencing and was slicing through the iron wall like the thing had been built out of Jell-O.

  No, thought Brian. I will not disappear. He could hear the snake wheezing in his ears. It was stronger than Luther; it would destroy everything he made. And yet, it might not be strong enough.

  Venom charged through Brian’s mind, corroding his thoughts. Then a black shadow wound around his brain, its cool hiss surrounding him.

  “No,” moaned Brian, but the wall was gone. And here came the snake. It was everywhere. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He’d lost control of his very soul.

  No, he thought. I won’t let you win. The sirens’ voices were dimmer now, disappearing into the mist. Or was it him? Was he the one who was almost gone? The snake’s venom seemed to be fading too, and a cold blurry feeling crept through Brian’s thoughts. Brian knew that once he lost consciousness, it would be over. So he fought for every second, searching for a way to remain.

  Already the snake’s mind was becoming his own. He could see images of dark, rolling water— a tall, black ship with a woman’s bust at its mast. Sailor, he was a sailor, but it wasn’t him at all. It was the man inside him; these were his memories now. And Brian was watching, a silent observer, as the man named Hendrick took everything, and all he could do was try and hold on. Hold on and pray that he’d be saved.