But—this won’t do. It’s taking too long. From the depths of the lake, I hear a calling.
Don’t be greedy. Share, my dear.
Others are hungry to partake in the coming feast. I hold up three fingers on my right hand, swirling them slowly above me, inviting the Three Sisters to rally forth. Rarely released but just as voracious, they had their turn in my place before evolving into a legend.
The three rogue waves travel one after the other; impossibly large, even within such a terrible November storm. People speak reverently of them. They’ve taken other ships before, far larger. My sisters are ravenous like me but cannot come forth without my call or mother’s. They live only for destruction, tied irrevocably to one another’s strength, and ours.
I kiss my first fingertip and release the first one. Made of wind and water and the disturbed depths, she comes from a slight angle, far larger than anything the captain has encountered before. The angle is off just enough that when the ship crashes down the deep trough, it sways dangerously from port to starboard. Lake water washes over the entire craft, and two glass windows on the cabin break. The boat takes on water and begins to list to the port side. It’s survivable, yes. The men inside yell and shriek, all but one.
I kiss my second fingertip and send along the second sister.
The same size as her first sister, she will cripple the boat. The passengers can’t believe a second rogue wave is coming. It’s enormous. Their eyes widen with sheer, frozen fear as they see it. They feel the inevitable in their hummingbird-fast hearts.
The captain hollers, desperately trying to steer her straight, but now her starboard side takes the worst of it as it presses her down, a weight and force she cannot bear. She lists so badly that her keel bobs above the surface for a second, and her hull cracks—ah, such an alluring sound. The passengers are finding their upright is sideways, their down is left. I hear a bone snap and skulls crashing against the inside of the cabin. There are more screams.
I sigh. This is the sweetest part. I kiss my third finger and send along the last sister, stronger and more willful than the first two, and at least one-third more enormous. She is the youngest and the most ravenous. Now the captain knows I am here. His eyes open wider with reverence. Inside his head, he says it to himself—the Witch of November. The Three Sisters. It’s just like the tales of the Edmund Fitzgerald. He wonders if they’ll sing a song about him, too, someday.
The third sister hits the vessel with pure green water, the thick of the wave immersing everything. She cracks the hull further, and water gushes into the boat. Two of the crew have opened up the door to the cabin, now the roof of their prison. The captain refuses to leave. He’s a good man. I’ll give him an honorable death and let him stay with his lady. As water rapidly fills the cabin inch by inch and the sighing boat begins its descent, I sense the other passengers.
One is praying to God and is in too much shock to move.
One is kicking to the surface and trying to climb out of the doorway. He’s the most frightened, and his heart is black and heavy within his chest.
Another is treading water, holding a set of keys. He is panicked and trying to decide if another life is worth his.
Only one inside the vessel welcomes death. It speaks a name.
My name.
Anda, it says. I’m ready.
Chapter Fifty-Five
HECTOR
My head is barely above water.
The cabin is sideways and filling with lake water fast. So fast. I mean, this is what I’ve begged for, and yet—the real rawness of it drives into me with terror. My heart beats hard, almost within my throat, threatening to choke me. I pull on my wrists behind my back, and they swish helplessly only two inches through the water, tethered to the railing behind me. I thread my right fingers into my left, needing to hold on to something. I wish it were Anda’s hand, but right now, I’m all I’ve got, and it seems like a shabby second-place prize. It doesn’t matter; in a little while, I won’t be alive anymore.
“Oh God,” I sputter, the water splashing into my mouth. “Oh my God, oh God.”
I thought this was what I wanted.
It is, isn’t it?
The captain is yelling, trying to get his meager crew out of the ship. One of the officers is chest-deep in the moving water, pasty-faced and bleeding profusely from his forehead. He can barely see with the salty blood staining his eyes. The captain helps to push him out the flapping cabin door and he’s swept straight out, as if swallowed whole into the lake. I wonder if he’ll survive. But then I remember that Anda’s out there. I know his fate almost as clearly as I know my own.
The other officer is hanging on to the side rail (now our ceiling), his fingers fumbling with slippery ring of keys to the handcuffs. He’s breathing so hard that he can’t speak. His hand is shaking. If he’s not careful, he’ll drop the keys. I watch the glint of wet metal shivering in his grasp. They’re tiny and laughably simple, like a kid’s toy keys. I’m surprised I can focus at a time like this.
“Give them to me!” the captain yells.
My uncle is about five feet away, freaking out and greedily gulping air. His eyes are so wide that the whites surround his pupils. He looks at the captain and me. He’s neck-deep in water now and splashing hard to keep his body afloat, even with the life vest on.
My uncle’s eyes lock onto mine, wild with fear and panic. But the way he clings to the door, I can tell—he’s not afraid for me. He’s afraid for himself. Somewhere behind those brown eyes, there’s nothing. They’re empty. There were times that I thought there was enough between us to keep us floating. Enough to make me feel real guilt for getting us in this situation. But it’s never been enough.
Suddenly, a huge wave crashes over us and we all pitch to one side again. My head goes underwater, and I hear nothing but a roaring surge against my eardrums. I feel the ship pull my wrists down behind me. The metal digs into my flesh. Seconds later, we pitch to the other side. My head emerges from the roiling water. I’ve been given another chance at a few breaths.
“Get out! I’ll uncuff him!” the captain yells at my uncle and the other officer. He grabs the keys from the other officer, whose face is an openmouthed expression of shock. When they don’t move for the door, he screams, “Go!” The officer yanks at my uncle’s vest.
My uncle doesn’t hesitate. He and the other officer reach for the doorway. They start swimming through it.
My uncle doesn’t look back.