“You’re Baba Vr?ja, aren’t you?” Neela said, her eyes wide, her voice hushed with awe. “Oh. My. Gods. I can’t believe it. I saw you in my dream. But Duca Armando said the Iele are only myths, like the ones ancients told to explain thunderstorms. He said you were just a story.”
“Then your duca’s a fool,” said the witch. “Stories don’t tell us what a thunderstorm is, they tell us what we are.” She looked each of the six mermaids over in turn, her black eyes glittering. “Come. Follow me and I will show you an adversary worth fighting.”
Before anyone could respond, Vr?ja turned and swam back through the doorway. Neela, Ling, Serafina, and Becca were right behind her. Ava warned Baby to stay put, then followed the others. Astrid brought up the rear. Vr?ja led them down a winding tunnel. They had to move fast to keep up with her. Some young river witches were swimming up the tunnel in the opposite direction. They touched their steepled hands to their foreheads as they approached her. One was bruised. Another bloodied. One, nearly unconscious, was being carried.
“Tell me again why we came here?” Neela whispered nervously.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Serafina said.
“I hear chanting,” Becca said.
“Me too,” Ling said. “Ava, can you see anything?”
“Not so much as a minnow,” Ava replied. “Is there iron nearby?”
“Yes. An iron door. Up ahead of us,” Ling said.
“Where does this crazy little tour end, anyway?” Astrid called out from the back.
“At the Incantarium. Turn back if you are afraid,” Vr?ja said, stopping by the iron door.
“Afraid? I’m not afraid,” Astrid scoffed. “I just want to know where I’m—”
Vr?ja cut her off. “A moment ago, I said that stories tell us who we are. There is something behind this door, and its story will tell you who you are. Before I open it, be sure you truly want to know.”
No one turned back. Vr?ja nodded, then swung the door open. As she did, the sound of chanting grew louder. A scream of rage echoed off the thick stone walls. The water was heavy with the scent of fear.
“Oh, gods,” Serafina whispered as she looked into the room.
In front of her eyes, a nightmare came to life.
IN THE CENTER of the room, the waterfire burned.
Eight river witches—incanti—swam counterclockwise around it, chanting, hands clasped, just as they had in Serafina’s dream. Their faces were gray and gaunt. Blood streaked the lips of one, and dripped from the nose of another. Bruises mottled the face of a third. Sera could see that the magic cost them dearly.
Vr?ja circled the witches, her eyes on the waterfire. “Du-te ?napoi, diavolul, ?napoi!” she shouted at the thing inside it. Go back, devil, back!
As Serafina swam closer to the witches, she saw an image rippling within the ring of waterfire. She recognized it; it was the bronze gate, sunk deep underwater and crusted with ice. Behind it, something moved with a feral grace. An eyeless face appeared at the bars. Above it rose a pair of cruel-looking, jet-black horns.
“Shokoreth!” it howled, as if it somehow knew Sera and the others had come to hear it. “Apateón! Am?gitor!” The monster threw itself against the gates. They shuddered and groaned. The ice encrusting them cracked. “Daímonas tis Morsa!”
“Aceasta le vede! Consolidarea foc! ?ine-l?napoi!” Vr?ja ordered. It sees them! Strengthen the fire! Hold it back!
The witches’ voices rose. One, summoning the last of her strength, closed her eyes and leaned forward. Closer to the waterfire. Closer to the rippling image. It was a mistake.
The monster opened its lipless mouth in a snarl. As Sera watched in horror, a sinewy black arm, streaked with red, shot through the bars of the gate, through the waterfire, and into the Incantarium. The monster grabbed the witch by her throat. She screamed in pain as its nails dug into her flesh. It jerked her forward, breaking her grip on the incanti at either side of her. The waterfire went out.
“E a rupt prin! Condu-l ?napoi! ?nchide cercul ?nainte s? ne omoare pe to?i!” Vr?ja shouted. It has broken through! Drive it back! Close the circle before it kills us all!
There were more screams. There was blood in the water, terrror and chaos in the room. Serafina was right in the midst of it, yet somehow, she was suddenly above it. Her hearing sharpened; her vision focused. She could see the monster’s next move, and the one after that, as if watching pieces sweep across a chess board. And she could see how to block them.
“Becca!” she shouted. “We need a deflecto spell!”
“I’m on it!” Becca shouted, then started to songcast a protective shield.
“Ling! Take the witch’s place!”
Ling joined the incanti, crossing her wrists so she could grip hands with them despite her sling. She grimaced in pain as one of the witches took hold of her bad hand, then started to chant. As she did, slender fingers of waterfire rose from the ground in front of the prison. Serafina knew the blue fire took time to conjure. She would have to draw the monster off.
“Hey!” Serafina shouted, clapping her hands loudly. “Over here!”