The Deepest Blue(44)

It hadn’t been for Elorna.

The waves lapped at the rocks, as if trying to reach her. Seafoam spirits chattered as they swam by, only a few yards from her hiding place. She sensed their urgency, their thoughts tumbling over one another.

Mayara waited quietly, her heart beating so fast and hard that she was sure they’d hear it. Eventually, they receded. She could still sense them, though, too close for comfort. But they were branching out, searching the island. Cautiously, she emerged, climbing on top of the rocks.

I have to keep moving. Get as far from the cove as I can.

Jumping off, she dived into the waves.

Underwater, a rainbow’s array of fish sparkled and glittered as they swam among pastel-colored coral. A blue crab scuttled by, and a jellyfish drifted in the current. She swam above the reef, and despite all the terror she felt, she couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders around her. The reef was gorgeous—brighter than any she’d ever seen, as if carved and painted by a master artist. The fish were more plentiful too, traveling in shimmering schools and drifting over orange anemones and pink coral. A few sand sharks glided lazily between them.

She swam, keeping the shore beside her, resting on rocks when she needed to, until the frenzied spirits of the cove felt distant, and then she flopped onto the shore.

I’m still alive! She felt like laughing out loud—the same kind of high she felt when she’d performed a death-defying dive—but she didn’t dare make a peep. It felt wrong to feel such a rush when she didn’t even know if anyone else had survived.

Still . . . she lived. And that was worthy of a little joy.

Kelo, I’m trying!

Monkeys were calling to one another. Beyond the sand, the forest of palm trees was dense. She had no interest in losing herself in there where she wouldn’t be able to see the ocean or any approaching enemies.

This will have to do for now.

The sun was setting. A glorious spread of pinks, oranges, and purples saturated the clouds near the horizon. She calculated that she had a little while to find a place to sleep, and then it would be dark. She’d collected a few oysters on her swim—they’d serve well enough as dinner, plus there were clumps of seaweed that were tasty uncooked.

She picked a set of boulders that were above the high-water line and hunkered down between them. As the stars came out, she ate her oysters and seaweed. Falling asleep, she thought to herself, I can do this. Shelter, freshwater, and food. Keep away from spirits.

Really, it’s not so different from home.

Right?

WRONG. VERY WRONG.

This was very, very different from home.

Mayara scrambled up the boulder as it moved beneath her. She didn’t know how she’d failed to sense that the boulders she’d picked weren’t ordinary rocks but rather part of an earth spirit. Her only excuse was that the spirit had been asleep, its thoughts dulled so that she couldn’t sense them beneath the buzz of the other spirits. Because she hadn’t tried to command it, it hadn’t sensed her either. She clung to its neck as it strode across the dark beach. The rocks in its legs crunched together as it moved.

The moon shed blue light over the sea and the sand. But the sea wasn’t behaving as it should, any more than the rocks were. It was writhing as if snakes were dancing vertically on the surface. But these snakes were made of water, whipping fast in thin waterspouts.

Don’t react, she told herself.

None of them had noticed her. Yet.

She tried to keep her mind as small and quiet as possible, which was difficult when everything inside her wanted to scream. Clinging to the earth spirit, she was rocked back and forth as it began to climb up one of the cliffs. It punched the rock to make handholds that it could use to climb.

She tried to clear a small corner of her mind that wasn’t panicking in order to make a plan. If she brought attention to herself by jumping off, she’d be killed. If this earth spirit went closer to other spirits and they saw her, she’d be killed. So, for now, the best she could come up with was:

Don’t move.

Don’t think too loud.

The earth spirit lumbered through the palm forest, crushing trees beneath its massive feet. It continued until it reached another cliff, and she saw it had brought her back to where she’d come from: the cove where they’d first landed, the place she’d tried so hard to get away from.

On the shore were bodies, laid out in a row.

Three of them: Tesana, the fisherwoman who had left behind her husband and son; Dayine, who hadn’t cut her hair since she was five; and quiet Resla, whose shell necklace was stained red with her own blood.

She’d known them all. Called them spirit sisters. And they hadn’t survived a day.

If their eyes weren’t open . . . if there wasn’t blood at their throats or spread across their chests . . . if they weren’t so very still . . . she could have pretended they were asleep, side by side, looking up at the stars. But she knew that wasn’t true.

In the light of the moon, she saw a hint of movement in the trees just beyond the shore. She felt the earth spirit’s attention shift. Suddenly, it charged forward, stomping in great strides toward the trees. Clinging to it, she felt as if every bone she had was rattling.

Ahead the trees writhed like a mass of shadowy snakes. She heard a scream—a woman’s voice, tearing through the darkness. And then it was drowned out by cries and howls as the spirits converged on the sound.