“Okay, mermaid,” the cod said. “Half now, half later. Stop eating my squid.”
Becca had come across the large fish on her way out of the village, and he’d given her an idea. The bubble tea seller had said that she’d need to make herself invisible, but that she’d still create movement the ghosts could sense. The large cod could cover her. If they swam into the wreck together, the ghosts would think that the fish was the one making vibrations.
Becca knew that cod loved squid, so she’d hurried back to the village and bought some. Then she’d gotten the cod to agree, and they’d made their way to the Achilles.
Becca held out one bag of squid to him now, her eyes on the wreck.
“Here, let me grab that with my hands. Oh, wait a minute…I don’t have any!” the cod said. “So not funny, merjerk.”
Becca hastily apologized. Acting like another sea creature had hands was bad form. She opened the bag and dumped out the squid for him.
“I didn’t mean to be rude. Really,” she said. “A few hundred shipwreck ghosts are kind of distracting.”
The cod snorted. “You mer think you’re so apex with your opposable thumbs, don’t you? Hey, if a great white shows up, maybe you can thumb wrestle him. Me, I’ll be swimming for it.”
Cod, Becca knew, were super touchy about their place in the food chain. She didn’t hold it against him. Tuna and swordfish were the same way. Creatures hunted to the brink of extinction had a right to be prickly.
When the cod had finished eating, Becca said, “Are you ready?”
He nodded.
“Okay,” Becca said, slipping the second bag of squid into a pocket, “here we go. I lead, you follow. Stick close.”
She closed her traveling case and tucked it next to a rock. It would be safe there. Then she reached into another pocket and pulled out the transparensea pebble that Vr?ja had given her. She cast it and immediately became invisible.
Summoning all her courage, Becca swam out from the kelp and headed for the Achilles. The ghosts were still singing and dancing. Becca swam between two English sailors who, judging from their clothes, had died centuries ago. They were playing chess.
“You feel something?” one asked, as she passed them by.
“Aye, Jackie! Look out, it’s yer wife! She’s brandishing a rolling pin!” the other said.
Jackie jumped. He spun around, panic-stricken, then laughed when he saw the cod. “Naw, that’s not me wife,” he said. “That fish is ten times prettier!”
Yes! Becca thought excitedly. Her plan was working.
She glided past a Spanish sailor wearing a uniform last seen when Ferdinand V ruled. He was fencing with the blue-blazered owner of a yacht who looked like he drowned a week ago. The Spaniard, too, swiftly spun around as Becca swam by, cutlass raised, only to relax when he saw the cod.
She moved past more ghosts, careful to stay out of reach, until finally she reached the ship’s hull. The hole was in the starboard bow. Becca carefully swam through it and made her way down the hold.
The inside of the ship was murky and filled with more ghosts. As she reached the stern, she spotted what she was searching for. There was another opening in there, much larger than the one in the bow, and beyond it rose the rocky base of the Williwaw’s lair. Becca could just make out the crack, jagged and wide, that the bubble tea seller had told her about.
Fear raised the scales along the back of her tail. She had no idea what she was swimming into, if the Williwaw was in its cave, where Pyrrha’s gold coin might be, or even how long the transparensea pebble would last. She squeezed through the crack and found the passageway. It was dark, but Becca didn’t dare cast an illuminata for fear it would be seen, so she had to feel her way along the walls. Creatures of the darkness—soft, slimy, and sightless—moved under her hands. After she’d been swimming down the passageway for five minutes or so, it started to angle up. The waters around her grew lighter.
A few seconds later, Becca surfaced in a soaring space. She tilted her head back and saw that the cave was conical in shape and the top had a large opening that let in air and light.
On a large, broad ledge just above the waterline, sat an enormous nest. It was made of ship’s timbers, splintered masts, whalebone, human bones, sailcloth, rigging, pieces of fiberglass, and shredded life jackets.
The nest was empty. The cave was empty. Becca was alone.
She heaved a sigh of relief, almost unable to believe her luck. But her relief quickly turned to discouragement as she realized Pyrrha’s coin was nowhere to be seen. She’d thought the Williwaw might have a chest, or a special niche where he kept his treasures, but no. The small coin was probably somewhere in that giant nest, and it would take her ages to search it.
The cod poked his nose out of the water. “Can I have the rest of my squid now?” he asked.
“Not until we leave,” Becca said.