Anne Brown: Lies Beneath

“It’s always cold,” she said.

“Really? Have you ever swum the river this time of year?” I gesticulated wildly at the swollen waterway.

Maris looked at me as if I were a petulant child.

“I’ll do whatever you say when it comes to Hancock. But I’m not getting in that river, Maris. You can drive my ass north.”

Tallulah leaned toward me, her hand on my lower back. “Come on,” she said to Maris. “I think compromise might be a good thing right now. And it might be useful to keep the car.”

Pavati looked to Maris for direction, and Maris considered Tallulah’s pleading expression. She conceded with a quick nod, and Pavati shrugged. She wrung the water out of her long skirt and picked up our bag.

We retraced our steps back to the car, and when Maris put it into gear with a rough jerk, Tallulah laid her head against the window, saying, “Play nice,” though I wasn’t sure whom she was admonishing.

A stream of obscenities flowed steadily under Maris’s breath. I would have never won this battle without Tallulah, and it put Maris in a sour mood. Fortunately, she was opting to give me the silent treatment. That was good. It gave me room to think.

Pavati passed me a box of saltines and a bottle of water, and I mouthed Thank you . It had now been twenty-three hours since I’d last submerged, and I needed to retain as much moisture as I could. Already my skin stretched taut across my cheekbones. I put the box between my knees, dug into it absentmindedly, and powered down the water.

The first decision: Which Hancock sister would be easier to get at? Which one had the closer bond to the father? The younger one was small, possibly weak. I remembered her words to her sister—she was looking to make friends. I could be a friend. Or maybe I looked too old for that. The goal was to get closer—not to repel.

I’d reached eighteen years by human standards, so I looked nearer in age to the other sister. Lily , I thought, picturing the sign on her door. That might make better sense, and she was definitely the more appealing of the two. Plus, she was old enough for me to use my more practiced skills on. I imagined my fingers trailing her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm, my arm encircling her soft waist. I swallowed down the lump rising in my throat. But was she close enough to her father that she would bring me to him?

Personal preferences had to take a backseat to practicalities. I decided on the younger sister. My money was on her being the daddy’s girl. She’d be easier to manipulate, too.

I smirked. I had nothing on Pavati and her way with human beings, but I had a few tricks. I’d take the big brother tack. Find a common interest. Barbies? I snorted and Tallulah sat up quickly to see what was wrong.

“Nothing,” I told her. A second later, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Tallulah. She wiggled her eyebrows at me as I shot her a puzzled look.

LU:Wanna talk?

I looked at her again, and she tipped her head suggestively toward Maris. Oh. So that was what this was about. I really didn’t want to get into my bargain with Maris. Tallulah would only want to talk me out of it.

CALDER:ur not gonna change my mind

LU:You won’t even let me try?

CALDER:u don’t know what it’s like

LU:Want to bet?

CALDER:it’s diff for u—I’M diffrent

LU:You know I never saw you as different. That’s just Maris. You got to stop thinking like that.

CALDER:too late. besides, doesn’t mattr. she’s giving me a way out. i’m taking it.

Tallulah turned back toward her window and laid her head against the glass. The road jogged north through sleepy Wisconsin towns—some barely more than the sign their names were written on—past plowed-over cornfields, hunting-supply stores, and cheese chalets. My phone vibrated again.

LU:You shouldn’t let Maris affect you like that. There’s no way you can make it on your own.

CALDER:watch me

LU:So … what …???? After this summer you’re gonna stay in the Bahamas year round?

CALDER:got a better idea?

LU:Yes. One. Stay with us. :)

CALDER:Drop it. >: (

Tallulah bent over and held her phone between her knees. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard.

LU:You’d never come back?

CALDER:that’s the idea

LU:WHAT ABOUT ME?????

CALDER:????????

LU:Screw you, Calder.

CALDER:u could visit

Tallulah sat up, scowling, and pinched my chest. Hard. I knew I wasn’t being fair. She would always be compelled to follow Maris on the migration north, just as I was (for now). Call it the school mentality so common in fish. Call it whatever you wanted. Didn’t really matter to me. Bottom line: It just plain sucked.

Five hours after leaving Minneapolis, we caught our first glimpse of Lake Superior, what the ancients called the Great Gitche Gumee, and the first island in the Apostle Islands chain. Despite my earlier reluctance, I had to admit there was a relief in having arrived—a sense of coming-home completion that no other body of water could provide. My sisters’ faces expressed the same eager expectancy. Pavati trembled in her seat with her palm pressed against the glass; Maris’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Tallulah rolled down her window and leaned out into the wind.

Only a few hours of daylight remained when we pulled into Bayfield. Nearly every front yard was a yellow smear of daffodils, and many of the small storefronts were still closed for the season. Maris parked our car by the town playground at the end of Dock Road. The sun hung like a ripe orange over the trees.

Inhaling, I took in the familiar smells of my new environment—rotting fish, charcoal grills, and pine sap. It didn’t smell like the channel had frozen solid this winter, but it would still be cold—even colder than the Mississippi. The wind off the lake promised me as much. I didn’t have to look at Maris to know she was enjoying my discomfort. I’d run out of excuses.

The Madeline Island ferry was halfway across the channel on its five-thirty run. It was early in the season and there were only a few people making the crossing, their cars topped with kayaks and luggage racks. They stood along the rail on the upper deck bundled in down parkas.

We watched from the car, fighting the ubiquitous lure of the humans’ happy expressions and the raspberry-colored glow that outlined the ferry.

“Patience,” Maris said. “Maintain focus on Hancock. We’ll need to pace ourselves this summer. I don’t want anything to put him on alert.”

We nodded. There was work to be done. Maintaining focus on our target was Job One.

I regretted not having made a kill when I was still in the Bahamas. It was a stupid experiment—seeing how long I could go—and what did it get me? Nothing in the end. The too-familiar threads of depression were already pulling through my veins. I could have used the emotional fix that a human life would provide—particularly now that I was stuck with Maris 24/7. I closed my eyes to the ferry riders and repeated the mantra: Focus, focus, focus .

For over two hours we sat in our parked car, staring out the windows, barely speaking. Occasionally one of us would glance at Maris to see if she thought it safe to go. My muscles tensed in preparation for the shock, but by this point my body craved the water—whatever its temperature. Thirty hours had passed since my last submersion. This was new territory for me, and Maris studied me curiously in the rear-view mirror. A dozen empty water bottles lay at my feet. I’d only drunk half of them; the rest I’d poured directly on my skin.