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.
BECCA 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.
“WE’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.