An old farmer named Amos, who lived alone in a shack at the edge of the Spiderlair, had told her about the Okwa Naholo. He’d seen them. Not a full-on look—that would have killed him—but a glimpse out of the corner of his eye.
Amos had heard the legend that Native American terragoggs told of the Okwa Naholo, and he’d passed it on to Ava.
Centuries ago, a cruel Choctaw warrior named Nashoba bribed the night god to blanket the earth for half a year. Under the cover of darkness, Nashoba and his followers murdered their chief and enslaved their tribe. When the long night finally lifted, the sun god saw what Nashoba had done. He called upon his brother the wind to bind the murderers’ hands and push them into the swamp, where they drowned. To make sure they could never escape, the wind god whirled together cypress branches, swamp mud, and the bones and teeth of dead things to form giant spiders, and then placed them along the swamp’s banks.
Okwa Naholo meant white people of the water in Choctaw, Amos had told Ava, and over the centuries, the swamp had rotted away the warriors’ flesh, turning them into skeletons. But under each set of white ribs, a black, bloated heart beat on. It was those hearts, and the memories of the evil deeds they contained, that killed anyone who glimpsed the spirits.
“Go back, you dang fool child!” Amos had urged Ava. But she wouldn’t, so he’d packed her some food, given her his lucky gator foot, and then sent her on her way.
That had been a full day ago. Judging by the increasing strength of the horrible stench, Ava figured she was well into the Okwa’s waters now.
“You ready?” she whispered to Baby.
After the bloodbind, Ava had received some of Ling’s ability with languages. She’d immediately put her new talent to use by trying to reason with the little piranha, but since the noises Baby made were mostly yips, growls, and barks, it was difficult. He understood Ava, though—when it suited him.
“Remember to swim low,” she instructed him. “Get into the cypress roots as fast as you can, and whatever you do, mano, don’t look at them. They’re coming. Hurry!”
Baby circled Ava twice, nipped her ear—a sign of affection—and sped off.
“Great Neria, protect him,” Ava whispered.
The Okwa Naholo wouldn’t be able to see the little fish—that was something. Baby was invisible. At least, Ava hoped he was. Since she couldn’t see, she couldn’t be certain. She’d given him the transparensea pebble that Vr?ja had given her. “Hold it in your mouth,” she’d advised him. He’d promptly swallowed it. Sighing, she’d cast the spell and hoped for the best.
Invisibility would help him, and so would his own bad vision. Piranhas’ eyes, Ava knew, were on the sides of their heads—which meant they could not see what was directly in front of them. That blind spot would keep him safe from any Okwa Naholo approaching head-on. Eventually, though, the spirits would surround her. Hopefully, Baby would be in the cypress roots by then and out of harm’s way. Once he’d found what she’d told him to look for, he’d have to close his eyes and navigate back to her by sound. That wouldn’t be too difficult, because piranhas had excellent hearing.
As soon as Baby was gone, Ava felt it—a wave of despair so strong, it made her sick. As nausea roiled in her stomach, she heard a voice.
“Are you lost, mermaid?” it asked.
The voice was kindly, but Ava sensed darkness under the sympathetic tone. It was the voice you heard on a deserted current when you’d swum too far or taken a wrong turn. When it was too late to turn back. To swim away. To scream for help.
Show no fear, Ava told herself, turning to the thing that had spoken.
“You are so sweet for asking, amigo!” she trilled, pressing a hand to her chest. “I am lost. I’ve had a lovely little swim through the swamp, but now I’m trying to make my way back to the Gulf and I must’ve gone the wrong way, because here I am! But now you’ve come along. I mean, am I lucky or what?”
Ava was babbling madly. She needed to keep talking to give Baby time to find Nyx’s talisman. That was their plan.
Ava would distract the Okwa Naholo, and Baby would search for the ruby ring. Merrow had given the talisman to these spirits to make sure no one else could ever lay hands on it. No doubt the Okwa had hidden it well, but the deft little fish was perfectly suited to darting in and out of the twining cypress roots.
“Perhaps I, too, can help you find your way,” another voice offered.
“That would be awesome, mano!” Ava said. The stench of decay was so powerful now it nearly made her gag.
Come on, Baby! she silently urged the piranha. Where are you?
“I have a map here, but I think you’re going to need to take off your sunglasses to read it,” a third voice said silkily.
Ava feigned regret. “Sorry, querida, but that won’t do me any good. I can’t see your map. I’m blind as a barnacle. Perhaps you could, um…tell me the right direction?”