Book, Beast, and Crow by Byrne Elizabeth

Author:Byrne, Elizabeth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

THE JAGGED STONEWORK made scores of small alcoves up and down the walls. In each one, candle stubs flickered and dripped wax over body parts in various states of decomposition. Skull shards and human legs trailing skin, rib bones, and what looked like a pyramid of lidless eyeballs. The smell was incredible, and not in a good way.

“What is a grotto for again?” I pulled my shirt up over my face. Any moment, I expected a hand to spring to life and crawl across the floor toward me.

“I think we were supposed to bring an offering,” Alex said.

“You have a spare body part you want to leave?” I asked. “There’s always your last baby tooth, I guess.” Alex reflexively put a hand to his cheek.

Lou shook his head. “Feel how cold it is in here? These things are in storage.”

Water sounds echoed. Every sound echoed. Alex and Lou stood a few paces closer to the pool, squinting into the dusky water.

“Hello?” Lou said again. “We’ve come to ask—we need your help.” He shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot.

There was no reply, just the steady trickle of water into the pool.

“There’s no one here,” Alex said. “Let’s just go.”

Something broke the surface of the water on the far side of the cave: a quiet pulsing, like the sound of gentle strokes splitting a still pond.

A human head with only the eyes above the water floated toward us slowly. A long train of hair fanned out on the water like a ratty fishing net, tangled and trailing detritus. Mermaid, was my first thought, because who else swims with their breathing parts below the water? The closer it came to the light, the less human it looked. The skin of its forehead was so smooth it looked like rubber, and its eyebrows were a wild species unto themselves, curly and growing in two impressive crescents over enormous wide-set eyes.

About four feet from the edge, the swimmer rose slowly from the water until only her head and bare shoulders were exposed. Water ran from her hair continuously, as though it was producing water, not shedding it. She was beautiful in the most terrifying and familiar way. Her features looked almost too big for her face: huge eyes, razor-sharp cheekbones, and teeth so long and sharp, her mouth was perpetually open like she was about to speak, or chomp. She was decades younger than when I’d seen her last, but I recognized her, even without the pile of wet clothes. She lifted her chin to regard us for a moment before saying, “Who be ye?”

Lou stammered, “Uh, we’re—I am—my name is Lou—Louis—and this is Alex”—who’d retreated to stand behind me and Lou, once things started to get interesting—“and this is—”

“Anna,” the woman replied. “We’ve met.”

The boys’ heads snapped around. “Who are you?” Lou asked me.

I ignored him. “We met at the pond, right?” I said. “Are you the washerwoman—the Banshee?”

The Banshee nodded. “That would be me—another me, another time. I’m glad to see you used the front door this time.

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