“No. And I didn’t get any luck, either. Unless you count bad luck,” Astrid said wryly.
“Did anyone get the coin? Any of the other children you were playing with?” Orfeo pressed.
Astrid thought back to the festival. She pictured her brother, Ragnar. Her merlfriends. That lumpsucker Tauno.
“Oddly enough, no,” she finally said. “At least not that I can remember. And I think I would remember. Anyone who gets a coin always makes a big deal out of it.” She wondered why she’d never thought about this before.
“May I feel your throat?” Orfeo asked. His eyes were hidden, as usual, behind his glasses, but the rest of his face had taken on an intense look.
“Why do you want to heal me? What do you want in return?” Astrid asked warily. “Maybe you don’t want to heal me. Maybe you want to choke the life out of me instead. Is that the reason I’m here? So you can kill me? Then there will be only five of us left, and your plan to unleash your pet monster will be that much easier.” Her words were blunt. The time for beating around the coral was over.
As she spoke, a look of pain sliced across Orfeo’s face. “I would never hurt you, Astrid. Never,” he said. “I only want to help you. Can’t you see that, you foolish mermaid?”
For a few seconds, Astrid’s defenses slipped. The longing to sing again was so deep, so desperate, that she pushed her fears aside and with a quick nod, gave her assent. A second later, she felt Orfeo’s hands on her throat. She tried not to flinch as his fingers probed the soft area under her jaw, then worked their way down her neck. She felt him press along the right side of her larynx, then the left. She gasped.
“Painful?” Orfeo asked.
“Very,” Astrid rasped.
“Here?” He gently pressed again.
“Yes!” Astrid cried out, slapping his hand away. She coughed, and a metallic taste filled her mouth.
“Astrid, listen to me. You need to be very brave, and very still. Can you do that?”
“Why?”
“So I can give you your magic back.”
Astrid looked at him uncertainly.
“Trust me, child. You have to trust me.”
Trust you? Are you out of your mind? she was about to shout.
But the words died in her throat, because she found, bewilderingly, that she did trust him. Maybe it was the blood they shared. Maybe it was instinct. Something was telling her that Orfeo meant what he was saying—that he would heal her, if she would let him.
“Okay,” she said in a quavery voice.
Orfeo placed his thumbs on either side of her voice box. He took a steadying breath, then squeezed in and up at the same time.
Astrid screamed. Her body went rigid. She tried to get her breath but couldn’t.
“Cough, Astrid!” Orfeo commanded.
But Astrid barely heard him.
Wrong, I was wrong…oh, gods…he’s killing me! her mind shrieked.
“Cough, Astrid. Now!” Orfeo shouted.
Astrid brought up a thick, choking mass, and spat it out.
“Again!” Orfeo ordered.
Blood filled Astrid’s mouth. She spat it out, but more came. Orfeo was still shouting, but she couldn’t hear him. She was conscious of nothing but pain.
It was a trick. Orfeo had lured her here to kill her. She was his enemy, a mermaid who’d vowed to destroy Abbadon, his creation. Why would he ever want to help her?
Astrid tried to swim away, but she faltered and fell forward. Ebony anemones loomed up at her. Tiny lights bobbed before her eyes. Her hands sank into the soft, deep sea silt.
The dark waters of Orfeo’s garden swirled around her, closing in.
And then the world, and everything in it, went black.
“MEU DEUS, does it ever stink in this swamp!” Ava whispered.
Baby growled his agreement. He was a few feet ahead of her. Ava could always tell where he was by the noises he made.
The stench of decay swirled all around them. Ava tried to pass it off as just fallen cypress leaves rotting in the water. But the smell was so strong, it was like a living thing, moving all around her.
It’s them, the Okwa Naholo, she thought grimly. I’m getting closer.
The deeper Ava moved into the Spiderlair, the more strongly she could feel them. Ever since her visit to the Iele, and the bloodbind she’d sworn with her friends, her ability to sense things had grown. She could hear a lie in a voice now, no matter how hard the speaker tried to hide it. She could tell an ally from an enemy immediately. It was as if her heart had developed its own vision, one more penetrating than mere eyesight could ever be.
She’d seen the goodness in Manon Laveau, even though the swamp queen had tried hard to hide it. Ava understood why, though. Life in the swamps was dangerous, and sometimes a mer’s survival depended upon her ability to camouflage herself, her home, and her heart.
But goodness was not what Ava was sensing now.