I had the knife from beneath my pillow and removed a lantern from the sitting room. The door creaked when I eased it open. I froze, listening intently, but no sounds came from the direction of Mrs. Yagoda’s bedroom. Breathing a sigh of relief, I slipped out and shut it behind me.
I pulled my coat more tightly around me and kept my hand on the knife in my pocket. Though I meant to steer far clear of the more unsavory parts of town, I was still a woman alone at night on the street. Dr. Putnam-Barnett’s advice came back to me: “Aim for the eye or the groin. Putting a blade in either of those is guaranteed to dissuade even the most determined man.”
After an hour’s walk, I finally reached a stretch of beach on the outskirts of Widdershins. The waves rolled and heaved beneath the waning moon. Little flashes of bluish light sparked in them, as though stars had fallen into the sea and become trapped there.
Papa’s bones lay beneath similar waves, somewhere in the cold waters of the Bering Sea. And those of Oliver’s father, and the rest of the crew. Only wood and sail, along with a few sealed trunks had been recovered from the wreck of the Bedlam. The logbook hadn’t been among them, but Oliver received First Mate Young’s diary and a few belongings washed up inside one of the trunks.
I hated to think how their last moments must have been filled with pain and fear, the power of the storm overwhelming the ship despite all their efforts to keep her afloat.
I shook my head and slipped my hand into my pocket. I’d brought my summoning stone as well as Irene’s. I should use mine…but perhaps Irene’s would get Persephone’s attention faster.
The black stone lay heavy in my hand. It was magic—it had to be. But other than the strange symbols carved into the surface, it seemed like just an ordinary rock to my senses.
I threw the stone with all my strength. It vanished into the night, even the splash of its landing concealed by the growl of the waves.
I shuffled from foot to foot. How long would it take Persephone to respond?
The breeze off the sea sapped the heat from my bones. I went to sit on a low rock, my arms folded around me for warmth. The sea ballad Papa had so loved came back to me, and I began to first hum, then sing softly.
“Then three times ‘round went our gallant ship,
And three times ‘round went she,
And the third time that she went ‘round
She sank to the bottom of the sea.”
Another voice joined mine unexpectedly, far stronger and surer than my questionable singing. Looking up, I saw Persephone striding through the surf toward me, grinning as she sang:
“Oh the ocean waves may roll,
And the stormy winds may blow,
While we poor sailors go skipping aloft
And the land lubbers lay down below, below, below
And the land lubbers lay down below.”
The water shimmered on her orca skin, and her golden jewelry glittered in the moonlight. My mouth went dry at the sight. I rose to my feet, my heart quickened, and I hastily patted my hair into place.
“Is that what you are, Maggie?” she asked, laughing. She caught me around the waist and spun me; I let out a yelp of shock. “A land lubber?”
I grabbed my hat to keep it from flying off. I wanted to stay angry with her, for not telling me about Irene. But now that we were face-to-face again, it was hard to hold onto indignation. “First I’m a cuttlefish, now a land lubber?”
“Cuttlefish are better,” she said, and set me back on my feet. “Such cute little tentacles. I’m glad you used the stone.”
So the stones didn’t differ in some way from each other. I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.
A second figure arose from the waves. This ketoi was also a woman, her pearlescent skin marked in a different pattern than Persephone’s. But they had the same, striking eyes.
Persephone grabbed my hand and turned to the other ketoi. “This is Maggie. Maggie, this is my mother, Speaker of Stories.”
The feel of Persephone’s fingers wrapping around mine distracted me, so it was a moment before I realized what she’d said. “Mrs. Whyborne?” I gasped.
I couldn’t stop staring at her. She’d been married to one of the richest men in America, at the very pinnacle of society. Now she emerged from beneath the ocean with a mouth filled with shark’s teeth, dressed only in a knotted skirt of seaweed and gold netting, her neck and arms laden with jewelry.
She approached with the same, awkward gait as any ketoi on land. “I no longer use that name. You may call me Heliabel,” she said with a close-lipped smile. No doubt she knew firsthand how unsettling the sight of their teeth could be on humans. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Maggie.”
It took a moment to realize what she’d said. “You h-have?”
She glanced at Persephone. “Oh, yes. Percival spoke of you quite fondly.”
Persephone’s tentacle hair lashed around her shoulders. “Did he?” she asked. Her grip on my hand tightened.
I blinked. “You mean…Dr. Whyborne?” The idea that Dr. Whyborne might be fond of me would have made me giddy not so long ago. But now it was a sense of awkwardness that brought a blush to my cheeks.