Submerging (Swans Landing) (10 page)

Callum squeezed her hand. “I promise, you’ll be the first to have it should I no longer need it.”

Moira gave a sad smile, but she nodded. Callum said good-bye to her and then we left the little museum, emerging back into the hazy morning.

“That’s the key?” I asked, when we were alone.

Callum opened his hand and showed me the piece of metal. It was old and thin, only a narrow, rusty piece of iron. There were no special markings on it. It didn’t even look like any key I’d ever seen.

“This was forged in Finfolkaheem,” Callum told me. “That was the capitol of the finfolk homeland, a city far below the ocean’s surface. It is lost to us now, as are many of the vanishing islands. This key will help guide us to any of the islands we wish to find, though Hether Blether is the only one I know of still in existence.”

“How exactly does it work?” I asked.

“We only need to have it with us when we go into the water. The key can feel the pull of the islands and will lead us to the closest one.”

I wasn’t sure I believed any of this, but at the moment I didn’t have another option. “So let’s go,” I said. “We can get Josh and then search for this island.”

Callum shook his head. “It doesn’t work that easily.”

I tilted my head back and sighed. “Of course not. What now? Some ancient riddle or curse we have to break? Do we need to sacrifice a crab?”

“You watch too much telly,” he said. “No, I only meant we can’t go because it’s not the right time. There is a reason they’re called vanishing islands. They only appear during certain times of the month. We have to wait until Monday.”

“Why?” I asked.

He smirked. “Do you not know? Can’t you feel it?”

Of course. The new moon was two days away. I could feel it inside me, that pull toward the water that was already beginning. On the first night of every new moon, the finfolk back home would go to the water, gathering in the darkness to sing. It was an urge none of us could resist, even during the height of the summer tourist season, when it became dangerous to risk being seen.

“Song Night,” I said. “The song calls us home.”

“We have to wait until then to try it,” Callum said. “And we’ll need a boat.”

“We’re finfolk,” I said. “Can’t we swim there?”

“
You’re
finfolk,” Callum corrected me, his voice hardening. “But I told you, I gave up my heritage. I need a boat. I’ll take you as far as I can, then you’re on your own.”

Chapter Twelve

As Monday night descended on Pierowall, the sky stayed black, unlit by the new moon. Callum met us at the beach along the bay. We had our bags strapped to our backs, all of the few belongings we had packed inside. If all went according to plan, Josh and I would not be returning to Pierowall with Callum that night.

The village of Pierowall sat along a semi-circle bay, which opened out into the cold Atlantic. It was late enough that most of the homes behind us were dark. The lack of a moon in the sky made the night even darker.

A small motorboat sat on the shore, one end bobbing in the gentle waves that washed onto the beach.

“Are you sure we can all fit in that?” I asked, eying the boat. Josh wasn’t exactly a small guy, and though Callum was thin, he was tall. I wasn’t sure that even I could fit into the boat comfortably.

“We’ll fit,” Callum assured me. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about going to Hether Blether.”

I set my jaw and then climbed into the boat, claiming the seat at the front of the bow.

“You’ll need to push us off,” Callum told Josh. “I can’t because...” He gestured toward his prosthetic leg.

Josh nodded and Callum climbed into the boat, settling down in the middle seat. He moved expertly, as if he had done this many times before.

“Where’d you get the boat?” I asked.

“Think I stole it?” Callum challenged.

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” I wasn’t sure how much I should trust him. The way he’d peddled “finfolk artifacts” at the Fae Museum in exchange for the key unnerved me, if in fact they were real. The spearhead from a finfolk guard’s weapon sounded like something a person didn’t find lying around somewhere. It left me with a sickened feeling in my stomach, and I couldn’t help imagining all the ways Callum might have come into possession of things he could barter so easily and without any hesitation.

The other option was that none of the things he had bartered were actually what he claimed they were. And that would mean he had taken advantage of a woman who didn’t seem to be all there in her mind.

“I borrowed the boat,” Callum told me.

“Borrowed is a vague term.” I clutched the sides of the boat as it rocked when Josh pushed it into the water. “Does the person know you borrowed it?”

“Aye,” Callum answered, his tone dry. “I’m not a thief.”

I nodded to the twisted metal tucked into his belt. “Then tell me how you got that key.”

Callum grinned and winked, but he didn’t answer my question.

Josh leaped into the boat, splashing cold water around us. He had to be quick to avoid changing form. Finfolk could delay the change for a few minutes when needed, but eventually it would come if they remained immersed in salt water.

The engine rumbled to life, sputtering and coughing, and then Callum steered the boat into a turn away from the village. My teeth chattered as the cold breeze hit us full force once we were out on the water. New moon was the best time for this journey. It was so dark there were no other boats out for late night fishing, and if anyone looked out the windows of the homes near the shore, they wouldn’t be able to make out the little rowboat on the surface of the black water.

We left the bay and ventured into the water between Westray and Papa Westray. Then we turned east into the black night.

The water became rougher the farther we went from land. Our little boat bobbed and pitched on top of the waves, sea spray bursting around us in white foam. If we had been human, the adventure in the little boat might have been dangerous. We could have tipped at any moment among the bouncing waves. But being finfolk allowed us the luxury of not having to worry about drowning out in the cold Atlantic.

I perched on the front of the boat, leaning as far over the edge as I could without losing my balance. My eyes scanned the dark night around us, but I couldn’t see anything except blackness in every direction. There were no signs of an island anywhere.

“So how do you know we’re going in the right direction?” I yelled to Callum over the motor.

He cut the engine, letting the boat drift on the water. He held the twisted metal clasped tightly between his hands. His eyes were closed, his face contorted in a pained expression.

After a moment, he opened his eyes. “We’re going in the right direction,” he said. “The key will lead us.”

I looked beyond him to Josh, trying to pass a silent message to him. I couldn’t feel anything that told me we were going the right way. I had expected
something
. This was Song Night. The whole purpose of the song was to call us home, so I thought I should hear or feel something.

Josh didn’t look worried as he studied the darkness around us. He seemed to trust Callum to lead the way, as if there was no reason not to.

Callum started the engine again and we sped farther away from Westray and into the black night. The boat pitched again and I grasped the edge tight. I leaned over the side, peering down into the water. It was too dark to even see my reflection. Water sprayed up into my face, leaving a salty taste on my lips. It had been too long since I’d been in the water. After the two month swim, I didn’t think I’d care to be immersed again, but now I felt the craving building inside me. My body urged me to dive deep. It was Song Night. It was what I was supposed to do, what I had always done my entire life.

I reached a hand down, plunging my fingers into the icy liquid. The ocean’s vibrations flowed up my arm, making the hair along my skin stand on end. Dizziness and nausea washed over me. It wasn’t right to fight against my natural urge, not on this night. This night was meant for the water.

Golden sparks flashed at the corners of my vision before I heard it. A soft song flowed up from the water around me. The song of the Atlantic, the one that had been ingrained into me from birth.

I shouldn’t have been able to hear it. The motor still sputtered and roared behind me, yet the song was clear in my ears over the noise.

A laugh from the water bubbled up next to me. I leaned closer to the surface, perched precariously over the edge of the boat. It was all I could do to keep from plunging my face in. I searched the shadows, my fingers digging into the wood.

Then I saw her. The face appeared in the water in front of me, below the surface. She smiled up at me, looking as young and vibrant as she did in the photos in Grandma’s album back home. She looked alive and happy and she lifted a hand toward me.

“Mama!” I called, reaching for her.

“Sailor!” someone behind me shouted. But the shout sounded far away and muffled. It didn’t sound real. My mother, swimming in the water below me,
that
was real. She was calling me home, leading me to her.

I stood in the rocking boat, pausing only long enough to kick off the sandals I wore, and then I dove, arcing through the night air, toward the roiling water below.

Chapter Thirteen

The water enveloped me, the current sucking me away from the boat and the two faces that peered over the side. One more rolling wave and darkness obscured my vision as I slipped deeper under the surface. The change overtook me when I opened my mouth and let water rush in. My bones cracked and popped as they reformed themselves. I had worn a dress specifically so I wouldn’t have to worry about clothing in the water, but I had to quickly slip out of my underwear, letting it float away in the current. The skin between my toes stretched like rubber bands as my feet fused and spread into a wide tail fin. Red and silver scales replaced the bronzed skin from my waist all the way down to my feet.

I was the other me once again. Changing form always made me feel giddy, as if I was only truly myself once I was in the water and could be finfolk.

The song was stronger now, wrapped all around me. I couldn’t see my mother anywhere and for a moment, it was just me, floating within the black sea.

A splash and an explosion of bubbles signaled someone else’s arrival, but the water was too black to see the face of the person next to me.

Then I saw her again, my mother swimming farther below us. I shouldn’t have been able to see her that far away in the dark water, but she created her own light, glowing somehow. A part of me knew it wasn’t real, that it was the effects of the song on my mind. The finfolk song made humans see what they wanted most. It was why people had believed for centuries that mermaid-like creatures could lure humans to their deaths through song. The humans became so entranced in what they saw they would do anything to get to it.

I wasn’t fully finfolk, so the song affected me too.

Even though I knew this, I also knew that the visions the song had given me before now had never looked as vibrant or as real as my mama looked right then. She was solid, not hazy like I’d always seen her. I could reach out and touch her, certain I’d feel actual skin if I did.

I couldn’t let her get away. Not when she’d never been this real before.

I dove deeper, following the glowing light of my mother as she darted through the water. I could almost swear I heard her laugh mixed into the song around me. She was quick and I had to swim hard to keep up with her. The current pushed me back, but I fought to reach her. She dove farther into the black depths of the ocean and my mind swirled with dizziness as exhaustion overtook me.

My mama was now a barely visible glow in the darkness far below me. I reached toward her, calling out, but the only thing that left my mouth was a stream of bubbles.

A hand grasped my arms under the armpits, snatching me up. I didn’t have the energy to fight, so I let myself be pulled toward the surface.

Callum bobbed in the water next to me, his hair wet and stuck to his forehead. His shirt was soaked through and plastered to his shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked.

I opened my mouth, but his outburst had taken me by surprise and I couldn’t find a response. He didn’t wait, but dove under the surface again. He returned a moment later, with a stunned-looking Josh at his side.

“Are you two daftie?” Callum asked.

“I saw my mother,” I said.

Josh still looked confused and shook his head to clear water from his eyes. He was susceptible to the song’s power too and had probably seen a vision of his own that he wanted to follow.

“You saw a figment of your own imagination,” Callum snapped. “You should know that by now. You know what that song does. What do you think happens to humans who try to find Hether Blether? They chase their desires deep into the ocean until they drown themselves.”

I rolled my eyes. “We can’t drown. We’re finfolk, remember?”