Waterfire Saga, Book Three: Dark Tide: A Deep Blue Novel (31 page)

Slowly, taking care not to make any noise, Becca slid off her perch. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Her heart was pounding. It hurt to put her weight on her tail fins. Both hands were
shimmering now.

The Williwaw was muttering anxiously to itself, making enough noise to cover the creaks and pops that Becca was causing. Never taking her eyes off the creature, she pulled up the padding, thrust
her hand into the hollow under it, and retrieved the locket.

It seemed to glow even brighter in her hand. She could feel its power. Excitement coursed through her. She had Pyrrha’s talisman at last! But fear quickly edged out her excitement. She was
even more scared now that she possessed the coin. Because it was hers to lose.

She slipped it into her pocket, then picked up a piece of driftwood. All she had to do was throw the wood at the cave’s skyward entrance. She hoped the noise would trick the Williwaw into
thinking that Zephyros was approaching and cause it to fly up to intercept him.

When it did, Becca would heave herself over the front of the nest. From there she’d be able to clear the rock ledge and make a clean dive into the water. By the time the Williwaw
discovered its locket had been stolen, she would be streaking out of the
Achilles
and heading for deep water. The wind spirit could not touch her there.

Becca swallowed, shoring up her courage for this last move. The seat-of-the-tail actions she’d taken so far had worked.

And they might have continued to if the Williwaw had not, at that instant, turned around.

B
ECCA KNEW SHE had a split second in which to live or die.

The wind spirit’s bright raptor’s eyes traveled from the piece of driftwood she was holding down the length of her now-visible body.

Then it opened its murderous beak and lunged.

Without thinking, Becca dove straight off the side of the nest, not knowing where the rock ledge was. A jutting edge caught her as she plummeted into the water, tearing a gash across her right
hip.

She ignored the red-hot pain and greedily sucked water into her parched lungs. The fall had knocked her glasses off. Frantically feeling around for them, she finally found them on the
cave’s floor and put them back on. Even underwater, she could hear the Williwaw’s shrieking tempest that now filled the cave.

A gray face loomed out of the murk. “Pay up,” the cod said. Becca dug in her pocket and pulled out the last bag of squid. She tore it open, scattered its contents, and bolted off.
She didn’t ask the cod to get her back through the wreck; he could no longer fool the ghosts now that she was visible.

“Thank you!” she called over her shoulder, but the cod’s mouth was too full to reply.

Becca raced through the narrow passageway that led back to the
Achilles
. The tunnel was as dark as before and she crashed into a wall twice, but she kept going. Behind her, the water
whirled and surged, boiling with the force of the Williwaw’s rage.

After a few minutes the passage opened up, and Becca found herself inside the wreck. Speed and surprise would be her only defense now. Swimming with all her might, Becca shot through the
wreck’s hold, out of the hole in its hull—and straight into a dozen ghosts playing a game of ninepin.

The ghost about to bowl—a Dutch captain—was so surprised, he sent his ball hurtling through the belly of his first mate.

“What have we here?” drawled a bearded sailor.

The ghosts’ smiles were sinister, their eyes ravenous. One rushed at her. She dodged him, but his fingers scraped her arm. She gasped, feeling like she’d fallen into an icy pool.
More ghosts advanced. Becca wanted to make for deeper water, but the ghosts forced her to swim up.

Becca’s tail whipped through the water as she pushed herself toward the surface. The ghosts followed. Their human legs were not as powerful in the water as a mermaid’s tail, but that
didn’t stop them. Becca tried to outpace them. If she could just get high enough, she could veer off and leave them in her wake.

But the ghosts weren’t letting her.

Becca stopped swimming for a few seconds and looked down. The ghosts were fanning out around her like a net. Dread filled her as she realized that they
meant
to drive her to the
surface, where the Williwaw was undoubtedly waiting.

Becca swam higher still, but as she rose, the sea became choppy. Waves were swirling and rolling on the surface. The undertow caught her and dragged her along, thrusting her ever upward.

Her head broke the surface. A storm, more powerful and terrifying than any she’d ever seen, was raging. The skies were black. Lightning ripped through them, followed by deafening thunder.
A pelting rain stung her face. The Williwaw was flying over the water, shrieking and pushing up monster waves.

When it saw Becca, it flew straight at her. Becca dove in time, but the waves grabbed her, turned her head over tail, and spit her back up.

Again the Williwaw attacked and again Becca dove. She didn’t know where the ghosts were anymore. Tossed and tumbled, she barely knew where
she
was.

She fought the storm-racked seas, struggling to stay submerged, but then a rogue wave, frothing and furious, lifted her up and hurtled her toward the treacherous coast.

Her eyes trained on the skies and the terrible creature soaring through them, Becca never saw the rocks, jagged and tall, until the second she slammed into them.

And then she saw nothing at all.

“W
E’RE SUPPOSED TO find a pearl,” Desiderio said flatly. “One black pearl…in
that
?”

Astrid nodded, wordless and wide-eyed. She’d heard tales of the Qanikkaaq, but she’d never seen the maelstrom for herself.

It was staggeringly immense and whirling furiously. Looking up through the water, Astrid and Des could see that its funnel-like mouth, raised to the surface, was swallowing everything around it.
Its eyes, two bright spots on the waves, shone with a gluttonous glee.

As Astrid watched it, wondering how she was going to even get near it, she saw objects of all shapes and sizes spin by: wooden rowboats, plastic bottles, buoys, kayaks, fishing nets, fishermen,
orange life jackets, a couple of yachts.

She had an idea about how to approach the maelstrom, but would it work? Or would she find herself spinning around helplessly inside it, just another piece of debris?

Two days ago, before she and Des had left the shelter of the shipping container, Astrid had gone on a treasure hunt. She’d raided the container, opening boxes and crates, and taking
anything interesting and shiny she came across. Stuffing it all in the large duffel bag she’d found, she had swum to Desiderio, who was busy cleaning Elskan’s tack.

“What do you think?” she’d asked, holding up a pair of neon-green sneakers.

Des had frowned, confused. “You’re not going all Hans Christian Andersen on me, are you?” he’d asked.

Astrid had laughed. That gogg fairy tale was well-known among the mer—as the most ridiculous story they’d ever heard. Who would ever want to trade fins and a tail for feet?

“No, I’m finding things to offer to the Qanikkaaq,” she’d said, holding up strings of shiny Mardi Gras beads and a plastic silver trophy. “I’m hoping it will
do a trade with me.”

“A magical black pearl from a goddess…for a bunch of gogg junk?” Des had asked skeptically.

“I was going to phrase the offer a bit differently,” Astrid had said. “How about: all of these rare and precious sparkling treasures for one dull little pearl? I’m hoping
the Qanikkaaq is a more-is-more kind of a guy.”

“Or a total idiot,” Desiderio had said.

Now it was time to try out her idea. Floating here watching the maelstrom spin wasn’t getting them any closer to finding out if the black pearl was still inside it. Astrid was nervous, but
trying not to show it. Her plan was sound and it risked only her safety, not Desiderio’s. But would it be effective? Without magic, Astrid had to rely on strength and cunning. She had plenty
of both, but would they be enough to outwit the maelstrom?

“Do you have the rope?” she asked Des.

“Yup,” he replied. “You sure about this?”

“Not at all,” Astrid said.

“Let me do it.”

“No, Des. It’s for me to do,” she said. This was her quest and the dangers were for her to face.

Des nodded. He’d searched the container, too, and had turned up a coil of strong nylon rope. He was carrying it over one shoulder. He shrugged it off now, knotted a loop into one end, and
handed it to Astrid. While she put her arms through it and pulled it down around her waist, Desiderio made another loop in the other end of the rope. That one went over Elskan’s head.

The orca was hovering nearby, eyeing the Qanikkaaq uncertainly. The duffel bag full of gogg plunder was attached to her saddle. Astrid swam over to Elskan and unhooked it.

“Ready?” Desiderio asked tensely.

Astrid said she was, and Desiderio led Elskan forward to take the slack out of the rope.

“Greetings, mighty Qanikkaaq!” she shouted as she neared the maelstrom, unsure exactly how to address it.

The maelstrom slowed its spinning. It tilted its giant face down to look at Astrid. As it did, the surface waters became calm.

“Why have you interrupted my meal, mermaid?” the Qanikkaaq asked, glowering.

“I beg your pardon, Your…
Maelstromness,
” Astrid said. “I’m searching for a black pearl. And I thought a magnificent whirlpool such as yourself must have
one.”

“Whirlpool?”
the Qanikkaaq said, clearly offended.

“I meant, powerful, amazing, super-impressive vortex of doom,” Astrid hastily said.

Desiderio’s eyebrows shot up.
Vortex of doom?
he mouthed.

The Qanikkaaq was somewhat mollified. “And if I had such a pearl, why would I give it to you?” it asked.

“Because I will give you ten times as much treasure in return,” Astrid replied.

The Qanikkaaq was pleased. It chuckled—a low, deep, gurgling sound. “Come closer, mermaid. Show me what you have.”

“Astrid, be careful,” Desiderio warned.

“I’ve got this, Des,” Astrid said. She moved toward the maelstrom. The Qanikkaaq’s eyes fastened on her bag. Astrid took out the silver trophy and tossed it to the
creature. It greedily sucked the trinket in. She tossed a handful of Mardi Gras beads next, a ball covered in tiny squares of mirror glass, and then the neon sneakers.

“That’s just the beginning, great Qanikkaaq,” she said. “There’s plenty more where that came from, and it’s all yours if you give me the pearl.”

“I can’t hear you very well,” the Qanikkaaq said. “I am very old and my ears are not what they used to be. Come closer.”

Astrid knew what the maelstrom was up to—it wanted to swallow her—but she inched forward, playing along.

“I’m sure you can hear me now,” she said, tossing it a plastic tiara. “So…how about that pearl?”

Currents from the Qanikkaaq were swirling around her now, tossing her hair, plucking at her clothing.

“I would oblige you, mermaid, but your request comes too late.”

No!
Astrid thought, her hopes crushed. Were Vallerio and Portia right? Did the mysterious
he
really have the black pearl?

“What do you mean, Qanikkaaq?” she asked, leaning in closer.

“I had such a pearl once. A mermaid threw it to me.”

Merrow,
Astrid thought.

“But I swallowed a large school of tuna later,” the maelstrom continued, “and one of the fish survived inside me. It ate the pearl. Then this tuna, a clever fish, found a way
to escape. It swam up my gullet and bit the inside of my mouth. I yelled, of course—tuna have sharp teeth—and stopped swirling, and as I did, the tuna jumped out and swam away. However,
that fish wasn’t
quite
as clever as it thought it was. A nearby fisherman caught it in his net. And when he cut the tuna open to clean it, he found the pearl.”

Astrid, riveted by the Qanikkaaq’s story, moved closer. She wanted to find out every detail about the pearl, so she could tell Sera and the others. Des called out another warning, but she
barely heard him.