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The river's begun to change color. I can see to the bottom. It's lined with phosphorescent stones and shoals that make our hands look green and blue. The barge comes to a stop.
"I cannot go farther," the gorgon says.
"We're on foot from here," I say. "Gorgon, may we take the nets with us?"
The gorgon nods her giant head. The others scramble to release them. The gorgon calls me to her. "Be careful you are not caught in a net, Most High," she says.
"I shall," I say, feeling uneasy.
But the gorgon shakes her head. The snakes hiss and writhe. "Some nets are difficult to see until you are thoroughly ensnared."
"Gemma!" Felicity calls in a loud whisper. I run to join the others. Felicity's got her arrows; Pip and Miss Moore have the nets and a rope. We step from the barge into ankle-deep water and onto land obscured by a cloud bank. The ground below us is hard and unforgiving. We have to hold hands to steady ourselves. The mist clears a bit, and I can see the desolate landscape of black, rocky hills. Small, steaming ponds lie here and there, carved into the rock. The mist rises from them in green, sulfurous whorls.
On hands and knees, we climb to the top of a jagged rock. Stretched out below is a deep, wide lagoon. The phosphorescent stones at the bottom of the lagoon give it a blue-green glow that leaks into the mist coming off the surface.
"I see her!" Felicity says. "Where?" Miss Moore asks, surveying the horizon.
Felicity points to a flat rock at the far edge of the lagoon. Stripped to her chemise, Ann has been tied to the rock as if she is the figurehead on the bow of a ship. She stares straight ahead as if in a trance.
They will take the song, pin her to the rock. Do not let the song die.
"Do not let the song die," I say. "Ann is the song. That's what Nell was trying to say."
"Let's go," Felicity says, starting her descent.
"Wait," I say, pulling her back.
The water nymphs emerge from the depths, their shiny heads like polished stones in the glow of the water. They sing sweetly to Ann. The pull of their voices begins to work on me.
"They are like the sirens of old. Don't listen. Cover your ears," Miss Moore orders. We do except for Pippa. She is not susceptible to their lures, and I am reminded once again that she is no longer the Pippa we knew, no matter how much we'd all like to pretend otherwise.
Below, the water nymphs move some sort of sea sponge through Ann's tangled mop of hair, turning the strands a pearly green-gold. They stroke their webbed fingers across her arms and legs. She's covered in the light sheen of the sparkling scales they've left behind. They stroke the sponge over Ann's skin, making her shiver. Her skin turns the same shiny green-gold.
The nymphs have stopped singing.
"What are they doing?" I whisper.
Miss Moore's expression is grim. "If the legends are accurate, they are preparing Miss Bradshaw."
''Preparing her for what?" Felicity says.
Miss Moore pauses. "They're getting ready to take her skin."
We gasp in horror. "That's what makes the water so beautiful and warm," Miss Moore explains. "Human skin."
Far across the lagoon, the mist grows brighter, taking form. One girl emerges, then another and another, till all three of the ghostly forms are present. The three in white. For a moment, they look in our direction with a curious smile, yet they do not betray us.
"Get down," I say, pulling at Miss Moore's skirt. She lies flat against the rock. "Those are very dark spirits. You don't wish to be seen by them."
The girls call to the nymphs in a tongue I do not know. When I peek over the rock, I see the girls leading the nymphs around a jetty and out of sight.
"Now," I say.
As quickly as we can, we scramble down the rocky cliff and out onto the near shore.
"Who shall go?" Pippa asks anxiously.
"I shall go," Miss Moore says.
