I want to tell all three of them to run. But Jude is getting into the water. I look at Naida; she turns back to me.
Then she lurches forward and pushes me under.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Lo
I am lost. I’m here, but I’m lost, like I’m watching through someone else’s eyes instead of my own.
I see myself grabbing Celia’s shoulders. Forcing her head under the water. She fights, struggles, but she’s no match for me, not here where it’s deep. I swim down, down. Her eyes widen, and she’s forced to release the breath she’s been holding. The air floats past me in bubbles, and Celia inhales the ocean water.
I can’t control my body. I’m trapped, watching as Celia’s eyes drift shut, as her body jerks, uselessly trying to siphon oxygen from the water.
I scream at myself, will my hands to stop, fight, fight, fight, but there’s nothing I can do, nothing I can change. Naida is in control.
The wind picks up, the seas toss us. The motion snaps Celia awake for a moment, a tiny moment; she tries to kick toward the surface but fails. She won’t make it, she won’t live….
Help her.
I scream, force my way to the front of my mind, reach down, and grab Celia’s hand. We’re deep, the surface is far away, and I can already feel Naida clamoring to regain power over the body we share. Come on, so close, if I can just get her up, yes—we break the surface of the water, only to be knocked aside by the waves. Still, at least she’s out. I grab Celia’s shoulders, hold her head out of the water, try to turn her away as wave after wave strike us, as the rain intensifies. Everything looks gray. I can’t see—
Jude, yes. Jude, he’s trying to swim to us. He’s struggling, and the water batters him around, but he forges through the waves anyhow. Naida is screaming, shouting, clawing her way into my head. Just get Celia to Jude, get her to Jude, I think. I move toward him, he sees us, he sees me. His eyes are the same gray as everything else—
Drown her. Take her soul.
And suddenly I’m pushed away again, hidden within my own body, like I’m watching a dream. I try to dive again with Celia, though my body doesn’t move as easily in the water now that Naida controls it. Hurry, Jude, hurry—
He’s here, he reaches us. The waves throw us apart for a moment, toss Celia’s body away from me. Jude sees, and we race for her, arms outstretched. His clothes weigh him down, but he’s closer. He grabs her left arm as I grab her right. I hiss at him, lash out to strike him, but he dodges down in the water, kicks back up to the surface. His arm is drawn back. He punches at my face—contact. Pain explodes by my eye. I feel warm blood against the cold rain, but I’m back, Naida is gone again. I release Celia, hold my hands where Jude can see them.
“No, it’s me. It’s not Naida, it’s me!” I shout, but Jude doesn’t seem to understand. I shake my head; waves throw him and Celia under for a moment. Her head lolls to the side—she has to breathe, she needs air, she needs to get to land now. I start toward her, but Jude shouts, draws his hand back again, ready to hit me. Lightning crashes behind him. The wind picks up, blows us along the waves, toward the end of the pier.
It isn’t fair. Naida’s voice, rippling through me. I’m not supposed to be you. Let me have her.
She’s right. She’s right, and I feel her voice aching, her fury, her sorrow, as she pushes forward in my mind again. I dive at Jude, shove him away, wrap my elbow around Celia’s neck. Down, down, pull her down. I can feel Celia’s soul—feel it. She’s dying, and it will be mine. It’s golden and bright, like the sun, like joy, something that I think will light me if I swallow it. The deeper I push her, the more I can feel it leaving her body, drifting from her lips and surrounding me. It’ll be easy.
“Lo!”
My name, my name, not Naida’s, called from above. I look up. Jude is underwater; he let the last of his air from his lips to shout my name. His hair and clothes float around his body. He swings back and forth in the waves. He’s not leaving her. He’s not leaving her. He’s not leaving me.
I don’t want to end this life as a killer, but I realize now: Someone has to die.
I scream.
I’m so sorry, Naida.
I fight my way back to my own head. My name is Lo. I have dozens of sisters. I live underwater. My feet bleed when I walk on land, but I know beauty under the waves better than any human. I used to be a girl, but now I am this.
My name is Naida Kelly.
No. No. My name is Lo.
Snapping back into my mind is like waking up suddenly. I’m here, I’m here. I close my lips and stop screaming. Grab Celia and jet toward the surface. I burst through the ocean’s ceiling, swim for the shore, go, go, faster—she needs air. Jude is behind me, swimming slowly, but I don’t have time to wait for him to catch up.
The rain is blinding. It’s almost like still being underwater, but I make it to the sandbar, then to the shallows. She’ll make it, she has to make it. Celia’s body is limp in my arms as I clamber from the waves toward the shore—or what’s left of it. The bottom of the church is underwater; the waves lap at the edge of the path up to the pier. I can’t leave her within the water’s reach. Celia’s head lolls back, her hair drips, eyes stay closed. I can feel the wound from Jude hitting me still bleeding, running down the side of my face. I dash up the pathway, to the edge of the pier. My feet burn, but I push forward through the shut-down rides and booths. Finally, finally I set Celia down by the calliope, as far from the water as I dare go.
I feel sick, dizzy. I want to go back to the ocean but no, no. Celia doesn’t move; her chest isn’t rising. I need to go get Jude, help him out of the water, but I’m afraid to leave her. I close my eyes, try to think back to when Celia and I were saving him. I pressed on his chest, yes, I can do that—I reach forward, pump my hands down on Celia’s chest for a moment. Something needs to happen, something has to happen. I lean down toward her face, listen for breath. Nothing.
She put her mouth up to Jude’s, I remember. I can try… I can try, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid that will wake Naida—that’s how we’re supposed to take souls, with a kiss. It’s not a kiss, but it’s close enough, enough that I’m frightened….
I have to try, though. I hear shouting near me, ignore it. She has to live, she has to—