Will stopped reading. He didn’t need to know more—he knew already that the log raised more questions than it answered.
Is that what Asia is? One of those—things? Those things in the water …
He looked out the window, toward the horizon, at the unseen ocean beyond. Will imagined that he could hear their subtle whisper. The endless pounding and sucking of the waves. Suddenly the ocean itself seemed like a devouring creature. He’d grown up near the water—he’d spent endless hours in the waves, splashing and playing. He’d never been a sand castle maker—maybe that was why he’d never paid attention to the sea’s destructive power. But over the past year, he’d begun to have trouble seeing it in any other light.
Will crossed the room quickly. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out the flute. The instrument was roughly the length of his forearm, and he shivered as a thought occurred to him. Was this—could it be—a human bone? Was this the remnant of some frightened sailor, dragged to the bottom of the sea?
That’s stupid, Will told himself. But—what about Asia’s voice, the one that had stopped Jason in his tracks? What about that strange, melancholy song that Gretchen had been humming recently? Did that mean anything?
Will shuddered. He wished more than ever that he could talk to Tim. Will’s brother had always known what to do. He was smart and practical. Somehow, if Tim had just been there to tell Will that he was acting crazy, Will knew that he would have believed it. Then he could just stop looking for answers. And if Tim had thought that Will wasn’t crazy, well, that would have helped, too. But there was no one else he could really trust with this information. He couldn’t tell Angus. And he didn’t want to tell Gretchen—she had enough problems.
There was a hole in the world where his brother used to be.
Chapter Ten
Seekrieger Chantey (Traditional)
Death is like a river,
And rivers are our home.
Home, home!
Yes, death is like the river
Styx, flowing over bone.
We flow just like the water,
And fall just like a wave.
Wave, wave! Yes, we flow like water,
And bring you to your grave.
As slowly dripping water
Can wear away a stone,
Stone, stone!
Seekriegers wait a thousand years,
And take men, one by one.
When Gretchen stepped outside that night, there was a figure on her doorstep. She took a quick step backward in surprise and fear—for a moment, she didn’t recognize the broad, square shoulders, the shaggy, shoulder-length hair streaked with blond. She realized who it was a moment before he turned to look at her. In profile, she could see the boy he used to be—the long, straight nose, peeling slightly with the usual summer burn, the fine, high slant of a cheekbone, the familiar denim blue of his eye. And then she saw his full face, which had grown chiseled and taut over the past year, and the familiar scar that tore from forehead to cheekbone. Gretchen realized that Will was taller than she was, even though he was standing a step below her.
He held her eyes for a moment, and Gretchen dared to imagine that he was thinking the same thoughts she was. And then he opened his lips and said, “What do you know about mermaids?”
The question was so unexpected—so far from her own thoughts—that it rocketed her back to the present with the speed and weight of a falling meteor. It crashed into her mind, and she laughed. “Da seaweed is always greenah,” Gretchen sang in a Jamaican accent, just like the spunky crab in the Disney movie, “in somebody else’s lake. You t’ink about goin’ up dere, but—”
“I’m serious.” Will’s face was unusually stony, and the words withered on Gretchen’s lips.
“You’re serious?” she repeated. She wanted to add, About mermaids? but Will’s expression was grave.
“Have you ever heard any local stories?”
“Local? No.” She shook her head. “No …”
“You just thought of something.” Will stepped up to the porch. He looked down at her. “What?”
“Stop reading my mind.” A flash of annoyance shot through Gretchen.
“It’s not your mind I can read—it’s your face.” He put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Please tell me.”
“Well, they aren’t exactly mermaid tales. But I was just remembering the stories Sally used to tell.” Sally had been Gretchen’s nanny when she was young. She was a local woman whose family had lived in Walfang for generations.
“Sally.” Will nodded, remembering. “Is that why you were always afraid of the bay?”
Gretchen shrugged. “Probably.”
“Okay. So tell me.”
“She just never wanted me to go down to the water, that’s all. She claimed the sea witch could get me.”
“What sea witch?”
“She would drag children to her undersea cave. Sally used to say that the witch could control the weather and waves, and she’d get angry and irritable when the days got shorter, at the end of the summer. Anyway, I always thought she was just making it up to scare me, so that we wouldn’t have to go down to the beach. Sally never liked going to the beach over here. She’d never take me swimming in the bay.” Gretchen remembered how Sally’s wrinkled face would set into a firm mask of resistance at the mention of the bay. She would drive twenty minutes to take Gretchen to the public beach, but she would not take her down to water that was only a five-minute walk away. Sally had dark skin and a heart-shaped face with pronounced cheekbones. Her eyes were almond shaped and dark under thick brows. But she had frosted blond hair streaked with gray, which she wore in a long braid down her back. She had been adamant about the dangers from the witch. “Deadly Sea Woman,” Sally had called her.
Will seemed to absorb this. “Can I talk to her?”
“I think she moved away. To live with her daughter in Georgia, or someplace. I have no idea where she is.”
“Can I borrow your computer?”
“Sure.”
They walked into the living room, where Johnny was plucking a melody on his guitar. It was almost as old as he was—Johnny always composed on the very first guitar he’d ever owned. He never used it for concerts, but he considered it his “creative machine.”
Will waved and Johnny nodded, but he didn’t put down the guitar or give any other acknowledgment that he’d seen Will. He simply went on, playing the melody in his head, filling the house with eerie music. A strange look crossed Will’s face then, and Gretchen wished that she could read his expression as easily as he seemed to read hers.
Gretchen led the way up to her room. It was just the usual chaos—rumpled white quilt halfheartedly straightened across the bed, books and magazines everywhere, a sketchbook open on the floor revealing a study of a wing with hyperarticulated feathers and musculature. And beside it, a painting. Maybe he won’t notice, Gretchen thought.
“Where did you get that?” Will asked instantly.
Gretchen felt her face turn red. “It appeared.”
“It appeared?”
“Seriously, Will, it just turned up on my bed yesterday.”
“You have to call the police.”
“Won’t the Miller think I stole it?”
Will thought a moment. “I’ll call Angus,” he said. “His uncle Barry can get this sorted out.”
Gretchen nodded. “Would you?” She cast a wary glance at the painting. “The thing gives me the creeps. Who would leave it here? And why?”
“Maybe it’s some sort of message,” Will said slowly.
Gretchen grimaced. “Next time, they can just shoot me a text.”
“I’ll call Angus later,” Will promised. Gretchen flopped onto the bed and watched as Will settled into the chair and the screen leaped to life.
Immediately the chat she’d been having online with her mother appeared. Will’s hand paused over the mouse, and she knew that he’d spotted it. But he didn’t mention it. Instead, he started typing in
to a search engine. He came up with several pages on sea witches and Long Island.
“What are you finding?”
Will scanned a page. “Not much more than what you told me,” he admitted. “Sea Woman,” he added, half to himself. “She was a giant.” He shrugged. “Not too helpful.”
Gretchen tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against a pillow. “Why do you want to know all of this?”
Will turned to look at her. “How’s your sleepwalking?”
“It’s okay. I mean, I’m still doing it. Dad has to lock me in at night, which is really annoying. But yesterday I woke up curled up at the foot of the door, so I guess it’s a good idea.” She gave a little laugh.
“How do you get out?”
“I call Dad on his cell phone. Wake him up, usually. Then he sets me free.”
“What would you do if there was a fire?”
“Die, I guess.”
“At least you have a plan.”
“I could climb out the window.” There was a maple tree that grew close to the house. The branches were near enough to the window that Gretchen could climb down it if she needed to. In fact, she had done that once or twice. Not that she’d ever had much need to sneak out of the house with her father as her primary caretaker. Gretchen could simply stroll out the front door whenever she felt like it. But when her mother had been living with them, it was a different story.
Guitar notes wafted up to them. It was a sad melody, slow and strangely familiar. Gretchen hummed along, her eyes half closed.
After a moment, she became aware that Will was watching her. “What?”
“You know the tune?”
“I guess.”
“Isn’t Johnny making it up?”
Gretchen realized that she had no explanation for this. “Maybe it sounds like something else.”
“Maybe,” Will said. But he had a look on his face that Gretchen knew well. It was the same look he wore when he had something to say but wasn’t saying it. “Maybe, but maybe not—right?”
“Stop reading my mind.”
“It’s your face I’m reading.”
Will smiled a dry little smile and stood up. “I’ve got to get going.”
“Where?”
“Downtown.”
“Just wait a few minutes,” Gretchen said as she slid her feet into a pair of flip-flops. “I’ll come with you.”
Will didn’t really want her with him. He needed to talk to Asia, not Gretchen. But how was he supposed to say no? He was starting to worry about Gretchen. The sleepwalking wasn’t a good sign. And he didn’t know what to make of the correspondence he’d seen between Gretchen and her mother. Gretchen’s mother lived in France and they didn’t talk much. Will remembered her. She was petite, almost child-sized, with blond hair and very fine features. She was slender and had an elegant bearing. She never wore fancy clothes or even makeup, but a beautiful smell always hung around her, which Will realized now must have been expensive perfume. She was not a warm person, and Will had always been half afraid of her, even though she had never spoken a sharp word to him.
One summer, Gretchen and Johnny had come out during August. Yvonne wasn’t with them. When Will asked where Gretchen’s mother was, she replied in the sagacious way of an eleven-year-old, “She doesn’t live with us anymore.” As if she were a stray cat that had moved on. Gretchen had hardly ever mentioned Yvonne after that. Sometimes Will even forgot that Gretchen had a mother at all.
“Why are we here?” Gretchen asked as she parked the Gremlin in front of the upscale vintage store that sold ostrich leather boots for $300 and hand-beaded gowns for close to $1,000. For used clothes! Will couldn’t believe it the first time he’d gone in there. The prices had appalled him. It was closed now, the usual porch display gathered up and dragged inside to keep thieves from stealing the valuable cast-offs.
“We’re here because I need to talk to somebody.”
“Somebody specific? Or just anybody?”
“Somebody specific.”
“Somebody we might find at a diner?”
Will looked at her sharply. Gretchen had turned to face him. She was leaning back against the car door in an elaborately casual pose, as if she were seated in a comfortable easy chair. Yet her body looked tense.
“What makes you say that?” Will asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m right—right?”
“Yeah, I need to talk to Asia.”
“Why?”
Will sighed. “I’m not really sure yet.” He yanked the door handle and stepped out onto the brick walkway. Gretchen scrambled after him, and they started up the street toward the diner. When they turned the corner, they found a very weird scene. There was a crowd clustered in front of Sebastian’s, an upscale bar. For a moment Will assumed that everyone was there for the club scene, but then he realized that they weren’t gathered outside the door. They were gathered near the curb. And they were looking up—into a large purple-leafed maple at the curb, illuminated in an eerie glow by the light of a street lamp.
“Oh, Jesus,” Gretchen breathed. “It’s that crazy kid.”
A branch shook, and Will spotted Kirk clinging to the trunk with one arm and gesturing wildly with the other. “We’re all born angels!” Kirk cried as they stepped forward. “But we lose the wings. We lose the wings, and how can we fly when we don’t know our own depths?” Suddenly his eyes lit on Gretchen. “Did you get the picture? Did you see it?”
Will looked at Gretchen, who was standing stock-still.
“Did you see the truth in it? You can hear them, too. I know you’re one who can hear them as well as I can.” Kirk’s eyes were wild, and for a moment Will feared that he might leap out of the tree, like an animal. He put a protective arm around Gretchen, and Kirk let out a scream. “Don’t touch her!”
A siren wailed as Will steered Gretchen away from the scene. A police car pulled up, casting red and blue shadows across faces. A uniformed officer stepped out of the car, along with Kirk’s sister, Adelaide. She was a stern-faced young woman with the perfectly coiffed hair of a professional stylist. Adelaide looked like she wanted to apologize to everyone personally and then go home and quietly die of shame. Will cast a sympathetic look over his shoulder. Kirk was shouting something else about angels now, and his voice had reached a fevered pitch. Will felt as if something had crawled into his stomach and was hastily constructing a nest there. He felt sick and shaky. What’s happening to that kid?
Will could feel Gretchen trembling beneath his arm. “What was he talking about?” Will asked.
“I have no idea,” Gretchen said. She had always been the world’s worst liar, but Will didn’t press her. “I’m going in here,” she announced suddenly as they neared a candy store. “I need some chocolate.” She took the top step and looked back over her shoulder, long blond hair flying. “You coming?”
“I’ll wait out here,” Will said.
Gretchen disappeared inside, and Will leaned against the glass. He folded his arms across his chest and settled in for a long wait. Gretchen could be a bit of a candy freak, and she liked to get one each of many different kinds. She always took her time selecting things, and it drove Will crazy. Besides, candy on an empty stomach would make him sick. He was already feeling pretty borderline.
And that was when he spotted her. Asia was across the street, watching Adelaide coax Kirk down from the tree. He stepped forward to say her name, but she noticed him then. She turned and began walking away.
“Hey,” Will called as he jogged after her. “Hey!”
Asia stopped, but she didn’t turn around. Will caught up to her. He looked deeply into her eyes for a long moment. She cocked her head.
“What are you looking for?” Asia asked.
“What are you?”
She scoffed. “What do you think I am?” Her voice was a challenge.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Asia pushed past him. He hesitated. That conversation hadn’t gone
according to plan. He knew that he wasn’t handling this situation properly, but he had no idea how he was supposed to be handling it. He wasn’t even sure what the situation was. “Asia, wait.” Will reached out and grabbed her arm, and it sent a shock wave up his arm. He cried out in pain.
Asia stood stock-still as Will gaped at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said at last. She reached out for him, but he drew back from her touch. “It won’t hurt,” she promised, and she gave his arm a brisk massage. Slowly it came back to life.
“What the hell was that?”
“It’s just something I can do … when I feel threatened. I don’t always do it on purpose.”
“Like an electric eel or something?”
Asia sighed. “Will, I have a great deal to explain to you,” she said.
“Um, yeah,” Will agreed. “Look, I know you’re a mermaid … seekrieger … thing, so why don’t you just tell me what’s going on? All I want is a little clarity.”
She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing’s funny,” she said at last. “Nothing.”