Monstrous Beauty (26 page)

Noo’kas’s voice exploded so unexpectedly that Needa’s hands clenched involuntarily and pinched Hester’s skin:

“SILENCE.”

She let Hester’s hair slide through her crooked fingers, as if affectionately. “You are one of us now. It is impossible for you to leave.”

She petted her again and then held tight to a section of Hester’s hair behind her head.

“Did he love this hair, so thick and full of color? Did he stroke it like this?” She yanked it down, forcing Hester’s chin up. Needa held her fast.

“Look at that neck, Needa, slender and sensual. Do you think she offered him her neck? And those lips—did they beg for a kiss?”

She leaned her face forward, with her wide, fishlike mouth nearly touching Hester’s. The aroma of rotting mackerel bathed the inside of Hester’s nose.

“Did you really think you could triumph over me with simple, youthful beauty? It will disintegrate as you age—you cannot escape thin hair, thin lips, sagging flesh, spotted skin—and before you had blinked your eyes, you would have lost him. That is what it means to be mortal. Now that I think on it, I have spared you that pain—spiriting you away from the surface—the pain of being rejected by him when your mortal body becomes decrepit.”

Ezra.
The witch was talking about Ezra, and Hester suddenly remembered that
he
was the reason she had held such rage for Noo’kas. Hester reached back to brace her stinging scalp. She could hear a crackling inside her skull as Noo’kas pulled her hair out at the roots.

She gritted her teeth. “Let. Me. Go.”

“I, on the other hand,” Noo’kas said in a repulsive, seductive way. “I will always want you, even as your body fails you. And it
will
fail you, even living among the immortals. You see, I can make you look like one of us, but I cannot make you live forever.” She used her other claw to lightly trace an S shape down Hester’s chest. “Not with that pesky soul of yours.”

The hag tilted her bony head to the side, and Needa forced Hester’s face forward. Noo’kas kissed her then, and a tongue as rough as sandpaper sliced its way into Hester’s mouth. Needa held Hester in place to prevent her from thrashing away.

Hester fought uselessly. Needa was too strong. Needa, who had pretended to be her friend! She closed her eyes, trying to endure the kiss. The tongue was so long, it caused a gag reflex, which only seemed to ignite Noo’kas’s passion. Hester remembered the illustration in Ezra’s journal—he had written that she was the longest-living sea creature, so old she was physically eroding—and although the shadowy image resembled her, it couldn’t capture the horror of the living monster. Was this what the ghost of Ezra endured at high tide?

Noo’kas sat back in her throne, licking her own lips. “Delicious,” she said in a low voice. Needa relaxed her grip.

Hester tried to remember what Ezra had said in the journal. He’d explained how to get away from Squauanit: insist on your connection to the land; insist on leaving. She’d done both of those, hadn’t she? And it hadn’t worked! Soon they’d bind her legs and a tail would form in their place. The others would call her Semiramis, and her human identity would fade away. Her family and friends would wonder forever what had happened to her, unable to mourn her properly. Linnie would continue to exist in torment. Ezra would endure Noo’kas’s repulsive visits for all eternity. She had let them all down, including Pastor McKee.

Pastor McKee.
How had he known of Ezra’s connection with the sea folk? Why had he sent Hester off to investigate them? Did he know she would become trapped in this godforsaken underworld? He’d warned her away from Ezra … why hadn’t he told her Ezra was a ghost, like Linnie? She suddenly remembered the flask in her pocket. Michael Morangie McKee’s flask: MMM. He’d longed for that lost flask, and taken such care to describe it to her. It was almost as if he’d willed her to find it.

The understanding hit like a physical force against her chest: Pastor McKee was a spirit, too.
He
was the pastor whom Sylvie Atwood had mentioned among the dead that tragic night in the crypt, and whom Hester had read about in the archived newspaper. She teetered on her numb legs, and Needa gently, surreptitiously righted her.

It was so clear to Hester now: McKee wanted her to set him free, along with Linnie, and the flask was the beloved object from his past that had the power to do so.

Noo’kas snapped to attention. “What is that you are hiding from me, my dear Semiramis?”

Hester stood straight, pushing her shoulders back even while Needa held them.

“My name is Hester Goodwin, and I’ll be returning to the surface now.”

But Noo’kas was obsessively focused on Hester’s pocket. “It is a piece of my treasure. You have been stealing from me!”

Noo’kas gestured to Weeku, who swam over to pull the flask out of Hester’s pocket. She sneered at her as she did. Noo’kas received the flask from Weeku without looking at it.

“That’s not yours!” Hester said to Noo’kas, fighting against Needa’s grip, reaching futilely into the space between them. “It belongs to my friend, and I’m taking it back to him.”

“Everything that falls into the ocean is mine.” She held up the flask. “Pretty bottles, and pretty girls.”

“I didn’t fall in.” Hester pointed her finger at Noo’kas. “You kidnapped me. You sent Needa to drag me under. I was drowning, until your magic took over!”

“You did not drown,” Needa pointed out. “You have always been able to breathe underwater, your whole life.”

“Shut up!” Noo’kas snapped at Needa. “You reveal too much, you prattling fool.”

“I am sorry, Mistress.” She hung her head.

“No one takes treasure from me,” Noo’kas bellowed.

Hester remembered the barrette in her hair. She shook Needa’s hands off her arms and reached back to unclasp her hair, which loosened into a shifting halo around her head in the thick water.

“I’ll trade you for the flask, then.” She held up the barrette. “It’s a shell. A silver shell.”

Noo’kas sat forward, grunting as she did, eager to see it.

“It’s like nothing else in your collection. I will exchange it for the flask—which is merely a dark, dull lump—plus safe passage to the surface.”

“What is that object to me?” Noo’kas said irritably. “I have no use for it!” She combed a stringy clump of her hair with her fingers and then lightly pulled on it—it released from her head with no resistance and left a raw patch of scales beneath it. She became enraged. “You know I cannot use it in my hair. You insult me, offering it to me.”

Hester impulsively tried to escape then—tried to swim clumsily, up and away, out of the walls of metal debris, with only the power of her arms because her legs were useless. Needa did not follow.

Noo’kas shouted, “You, with your hateful lush hair! You mean to mock me in front of my attendants!” She pushed her blubber out of the throne purposefully, inching one hip and then the other to free herself. Her silver jewelry tinkled like underwater bells. She grabbed a spear from Weeku and swam toward Hester, alarmingly quickly for such a massive being.

“You belong to me! You will stay here!”

Hester stopped swimming and curled herself into a protective ball. She was trembling, but her will was intact.

“I’m my own person, and I’m leaving!” She held out the palm of her right hand with the barrette resting on it. “Take the shell, or live forever with the filthy flask in your collection. It’s your choice!” Noo’kas dropped the flask, which tumbled onto the sea floor, and greedily snatched up the barrette to examine it. In that fraction of a second, her eye caught on Hester’s palm. Hester saw the look and snapped her hand shut, drawing it in to her body.

Noo’kas reached with the reflexes of a shark to seize Hester’s hand. She wrenched Hester’s fingers open, clawing wounds with her sharp nails and drawing blood.

“Who did this?”
She turned on Needa. Needa, who had her head bowed, dropped to the sea shelf, prostrate. Noo’kas raised the spear.

“No!” Hester shouted, trying to grab the weapon. “She’s defenseless!”

But it was too late. The spear sliced unerringly through the water, and Needa did not attempt to escape. The spear pierced her heart. She turned silently on her side, until she rested in a curled position on the ocean floor with wisps of dark green blood around her.

“Needa!” Hester screamed. She swam awkwardly toward her—back down into the horrific throne room that she had tried to escape just moments ago. Needa had endangered herself to allow Hester to stay connected to the earth. She had protected her from Noo’kas as much as any being could.

Hester hadn’t gotten far when Noo’kas caught hold of her hair. Her head jerked backward, snapping her neck painfully.

“Why could you not simply go about marrying and dying like the rest of the women in your family?” Noo’kas thundered. She began to shake her back and forth, the way a wolf shakes small prey, with whiplashing strokes. “Why were you so determined to end my beautiful cycle of pain by not having a child? Why did you find Ezra and awaken his feelings? Why are you ruining everything?”

You’re our hope. At long last. You’re here.
Hester heard Pastor McKee’s words in her mind.

“Let me go!” Hester screamed.

Noo’kas swung her by the hair into the pile of silver objects, and one wall of the mountain began to shift and fall. Hester scrabbled with her hands and feet, trying futilely to get a foothold. If she couldn’t free herself, her neck might break.

Noo’kas pulled her away from the pile, still by the hair, just as Hester spied a dagger. She reached for it but missed as Noo’kas yanked harder.

Hester flung herself stubbornly forward, like a dog on a leash, knowing the pain she would inflict on her own neck and scalp. She strained for the dagger. The fingertips of her left hand caught the handle, and she passed the knife to her right hand, slashing blindly behind her head with a speed and strength she didn’t know she had, slicing off her tethered hair. She fell forward, crashing into the mountain of treasure, and Noo’kas rolled backward into the throne room, still holding Hester’s hair in her hand.

Hester tried to drag herself out, but the mountain was like quicksand—the objects shifted with every struggling movement. The attendants hurried to set Noo’kas right, but she shoved them away.

And then Noo’kas began to laugh. It was a low, quaking laugh, and it seemed to shake the very floor of the ocean. It vibrated through the water, and the mountain of metal objects trembled, clinking and shifting, causing Hester to sink deeper. Through the debris she saw Noo’kas look at the glossy clump of hair in one hand and the silver barrette in the other, and laugh again, even more deeply.

Weeku swam over to Hester and pulled her out of the wreckage, throwing her in front of the throne. Then she swam to Noo’kas and eased her into her chair, gently tucking the blubber around her.

“You are hideous now,” Noo’kas bellowed at Hester, holding up the disembodied hair.

Hester’s head felt light and free, but she made herself look miserable to satisfy Noo’kas’s narrative.

“I have decided I like this trade,” Noo’kas said. She held up the barrette for all to see. “You have even less use for this trinket than I! It shall remain forever with your amputated hair!” She boomed with laughter at her own joke. The attendants tittered and clicked their tongues in applause.

Hester reminded her, “The trade was for the flask and safe passage to the surface.”

“Oh, go, you hateful thing.” Noo’kas was instantly deadpan. “Go and live your pathetic mortal life. It will be over in a heartbeat. You will die and Ezra will be all mine again.” She tilted her head toward Weeku. “Get her out of my sight.”

Weeku swam over to Hester and lifted her by the waist. As she circled up and out of the throne room, she passed the spot where the flask had dropped. She slowed down almost imperceptibly. Hester understood the gesture and reached out to scoop the flask up.

They traveled at such a speed, Hester could only close her eyes and mouth tightly and wait until it was over. They broke the surface of the water at Ezra’s beach, and Hester was surprised to see that it was still dark out, with only the waning crescent of the moon. The tide was receding, and the cave was still partially submerged. The entire event had happened in just a few hours.

Her legs were tingling but functional as her feet touched sand. Weeku released her to stumble ashore. Hester coughed forcefully, and a spray of water came out of her mouth. She turned to see Weeku watching her.

“Thank you for this,” she choked, showing Weeku the flask, “and for bringing me to shore.”

“I did it for Needa only. She thought of you as her sister. And now I am done with you.”

Chapter 40

H
ESTER WAS DRENCHED
, but the night air was warm. She looked wistfully at Ezra’s cave, knowing she could not visit him just yet. Time was running out, and in an hour or two the town would come alive. She put the flask in her pocket.

At the base of the stone steps she pulled her socks onto gritty, salty feet, and forced her feet into her running shoes without unlacing them. In the dim light of the old lamps above, she could see that the scars on her legs had healed to barely visible. She took the steps two at a time, ran to the bushes, and pulled out her backpack. She left the bike locked, knowing that she would be back to see Ezra when she finished her task. And then, taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she jogged up to the churchyard.

Before she had a chance to look for Linnie, she saw that Pastor McKee was waiting in the back doorway of the church, his dark body silhouetted by the light behind him.

He motioned to her, and then slipped inside and down the stairs. Why wasn’t he waiting for her? Hester wondered. She flipped on the crypt lights and followed him.

Halfway down the stairs she heard his nervous laugh. “You’ve found my flask, haven’t you? You claever gaerl.”

“Yes, how did you…?” She pulled it out of her pocket.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, turned to face her, and walked backward with each step that she took, until he was touching the far wall. He seemed frightened of her. She set her backpack gently on the floor, taking care not to hurt the doll or the journal inside.