When it was done, she should have come back to me. But she didn’t. Foolish girl that she was, she repented of what she’d done, and chose to remain in your world as a Chantress and marry a man herself. And when I tried to come after her, she helped the Chantresses devise ways of forestalling me. She created Proven Magic and the cursed stones.
“But then, when her husband turned on her, as I knew he would, she decided to punish him in turn. She created new song-spells filled with fearful and powerful magic, and set them down in a grimoire.”
My breath caught. Could Melusine have created Scargrave’s grimoire, the grimoire that had given rise to the Shadowgrims, the grimoire I had destroyed?
Pressina continued. “And when she unleashed them on her husband, the Chantresses took the grimoire away from her and hid it.”
Yes, it was that grimoire.
“She fought them, and they killed her.” Pressina’s voice was a howl again. “They killed my daughter. And when I tried to avenge her, they walled me in. They ignored every appeal. They wanted to keep me penned up here forever.” Her face was livid green now, her serpent hair tingling with sparks. Her tentacles thrashed, and waves of raw fury and grief emanated from her, so strong, I could smell them.
Worse still, her glowing eyes were leering at me. Was it sympathy she wanted? Contrition? Right now I was willing to say almost anything that might stem her wrath.
“I—I’m sorry.”
“Sorry!” The head doubled in size, and the stench of grief vanished, leaving only fury. “Oh, you’ll be sorry all right, Chantress. Sorry and screaming and wishing you were dead long before I’m done. We have broken through your wall now, and we are taking back our power. And soon we will be stronger than ever, because of you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You and your mother both—you made the mistakes that let us wreak our vengeance.”
Anguish tore at me. “What was it? What did I do?”
“You don’t know?” Pressina laughed. “How delightful! Your ignorance has been your undoing—and before you die, you will give us even more of what we want. Do you doubt me?” A tentacle shot out in my mother’s direction. “Look at her!”
My mother didn’t turn; I saw only her back. But her singing never stopped.
“That will be your fate too,” Pressina said. “But I am not without mercy.” A tentacle waved toward Nat, just visible and still unconscious in the midst of the horde. “Give me your stone, and you can save him.”
My hand went to my pendant, still hidden in my bodice. The stone was almost a part of me, but I would give it up in an instant if it really would save Nat’s life.
Her anger faded as she watched me, and an odd expression crossed her face. “Just take the stone off and push it out through the lattice,” she crooned. “That’s all you have to do.”
“And you’ll send him back?”
“Yes.”
“Unharmed?”
“If you insist.”
“And you’ll stop the flood?”
“NO.” All her rage came rushing back. “Humans have not been kind to us, and they must pay too. The waters will rise, and we will drown them all. You will drown them.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“Oh, yes, you will. Your mother is a fine singer, but she is wasting away. I need new blood. I need a new voice. And that voice will be you. Take off that stone NOW.”
A trinket, a keepsake—after my stone had cracked, that was all I’d thought it was. But if Pressina wanted it so badly, it must be something more. And since she hadn’t taken it from me by force, I could only guess that the taking was beyond her powers. Even cracked, it seemed the stone offered some kind of protection here.
For the first time since I’d arrived, I pulled the red stone out of my bodice, into full view—and my jaw dropped. The cracks were gone, and there was a glow like flame deep inside it. It was a small spark, nothing like the full fire it once had possessed, but nevertheless it was undeniable. My stone had recovered at least some of its old force.
As I stared at it, mesmerized, Penebrygg’s words came back to me:
Chantresses used to cross the wall to renew their powers. . . . though it was said that they had to be careful never to take their stones off while they were there, or terrible things could befall them.
I closed my hand around the stone. “The stone