She was exhausted. The trip from the River Olt was long, and it had been made even longer by the need to stay off the main currents in order to avoid Traho and his death riders. Both she and Baby were thin. They needed rest and home cooking. Ava was sure they would get plenty of both. When she felt strong again, she would set off for the swamps of the Mississippi to look for Nyx’s ruby ring.
Her parents had been unhappy when she’d sat them down at the kitchen table and told them she intended to travel halfway around the world, to a cold, dark river in the Carpathian Mountains. But when she’d explained why, they’d understood.
The gods took your sight for a reason, her father always told her.
“Maybe now they’ll tell you why,” her mother had said.
Like all the villagers of Macapá, Ava lived close to her gods. They weren’t distant figures to be worshipped once a week in cold stone temples, but living deities to be loved, invoked, and sometimes even scolded. No bride-to-be would think of marrying without asking the sea goddess Neria’s blessing. A new business venture required an offering to Ploutos, the god of money. And if Ava’s father’s salamander stew turned out bitter, the first one he blamed was Estia, the kitchen god.
Ava had waited most of her life to learn why she had lost her sight.
All the way to the Olt, and all the way back again, she’d hoped the gods would reveal their intentions, but they’d remained silent. She’d learned about Orfeo, and the talismans, and a murderous creature called Abbadon that she would have to help defeat—but how, exactly, was her blindness supposed to help her fight a monster powerful enough to destroy an entire island?
Five mages of Atlantis, with strong magic and full vision, hadn’t been able to kill Abbadon. What chance did she have?
Throughout her journey home Ava had cajoled and begged the gods, hoping for an answer.
In the Canary Islands, where she’d come out of the mirror realm, she’d surfaced and called out to the sky god. Why did you take my vision, Cassio? Can I have a hint? Just a tiny little clue? I hate to bother you, but I kind of have to save the world and I can’t even see it.
On her way through the Cape Verde Basin, she’d chided the god of healing. You think this is funny, Eveksion? When Abbadon figures out that I can’t get him in my sights—because I don’t have any sight—he’s going to rip my head off. Even you won’t be able to fix that.
In the Gambia Plain, she’d tried to engage the twin gods of the tides. Hey, Trykel and Spume, here’s a riddle for you: What do you get when you send a blind mermaid to fight a monster with twelve hands? Answer: splattered.
And one night, in the Doldrums, hiding out from death riders in a cave while hungry, alone, and scared, she’d cried out to the sea goddess herself. Neria, please, tell me the reason. This is life-or-death, you know? Maybe that’s not a huge deal if you’re immortal, but I don’t want my friends to die.
But the gods had kept their silence.
Ava wasn’t far from home now. She felt the current bend to the left and dip down, and she knew her house was only about twenty yards away.
She could already hear her mother fuss over her as she swam through the door, and feel her father’s strong arms around her as he swept her up in a hug.
He would be so happy to see her. She knew exactly what he would say. He’d missed her. He’d been so worried. He loved her. And she was too skinny.
He would tell her, These peppers are so darn hot, they must’ve been planted by Helios himself! I’m going to take them right back to the grocer and tell him to stick them in his ear!
“Wait…what?” Ava said out loud.
Her father’s voice…it was so loud, so clear. It was as if he was not in her imagination, but floating right next to her.
Ava stopped short, in an alley. Her hands went to her head. She was having a vision—one so intense, it made her dizzy. Her ability to see with her mind’s eye had only grown stronger since she’d traveled to the Iele’s caves and met the other five mermaids.
She saw her father and mother sitting at the kitchen table. Her father was chopping peppers. Her mother was knitting. Usually they talked or sang while they worked. But they were quiet, and their faces were grim.
Something’s weird, Ava thought. Something’s wrong.
“Ay, Mami, these peppers are burning my hands,” her father said. He looked up from his chopping board then, and stared directly at Ava. “They’re so hot, they’re dangerous. They have to go.” He rose then and turned toward the garbage can near the kitchen door. Ava watched him and saw that two death riders were positioned on either side of the door. One had a crossbow trained on her mother. The other was holding a net.
Ava gasped. Baby, hearing the fear in her voice, growled low in his throat. He circled her defensively. Death riders were waiting to ambush her. The crossbow was to prevent her parents from songcasting a convoca to warn Ava. Her father must’ve suspected that she was near, though. He knew she could sense things, and see things in her mind.