Page 84 of The Sister's Curse

It would be easier to drop from a boat, but we waded awkwardly in. The quarry was still, with no current, so that was in our favor.

Jasper swam out to the orange donuts, taking pictures. I was athis elbow when he grabbed the handles of the inner tubes, and we began to tow them to shore.

Once we’d gotten them within reach of the coroner’s people, we turned back to the water.

“Let’s see if we can find the heads,” Jasper said.

I took the respirator into my mouth, dropped the goggles over my eyes, and plunged into the cool water.

It closed over my head, cutting off the birdsong echoing in the quarry. The water was clear, and I could see to the bottom, tiny pebbles disturbed by my fins. Jasper was by my side as we searched, moving deeper.

I listened to my heartbeat and my breathing, sounding like Darth Vader’s, as we descended into the quarry, searching a grid from the shallows to the deeper parts of the quarry. Jasper’s camera flashed as he took pictures.

The water had a bluish tinge, the further we went in. Something about the pH of the quarry water discouraged algal growth. The deeper we went, the dimmer the light. I switched on my headlamp.

And it was cold. Before, I might have thought I didn’t need a wet suit, but I was thankful for it now. I felt a slight pressure against my body, squeezing my chest as we went farther down. I saw Jasper’s light to my left. I was watching him; he was watching me.

I felt sort of bad for keeping Jasper under scrutiny, for doubting his motives. I was the biggest kind of hypocrite. I worked the case involving my father’s copycat, and I told no one. Part of me wanted to grant Jasper some grace; part of me wanted to be better than that and follow the rules.

The floor was rocky here. I saw debris—an abandoned oarrotting, a broken piece of chain. I wondered if some debris was from the former mining operation, and how much evidence from other crimes had been chucked here, into blue water that swallowed everything.

Maybe even severed heads. Human bodies tended to float, but I remembered reading in an article about mob hits that found heads were heavy enough to sink, at least until decomposition set in. When that happened, gases would cause the heads to rise. I sure as hell didn’t want any drunk teenagers finding severed heads later.

And I was concerned about this development. The previous incidents had been plausible accidents in water. Why this change in MO? Was I perhaps dealing with more than one killer, or—

Jasper tapped my elbow. He gestured to a stack of pale rocks before us.

At first, I didn’t see what he was pointing to. I saw a bunch of small, shimmery boulders, the kind that weighed about fifty pounds and would fetch a pretty penny at a landscape supply store. The rocks were stacked up in a low wall where they must have fallen years ago.

…And then I spied the heads. Two of them, sitting beside each other, staring at me with glazed eyes and open mouths.

I exhaled a stream of bubbles.

They looked like they hadn’t fallen there. They looked as if they’d been deliberately staged there, waiting for someone to find them. Jasper took pictures from every angle.

He opened a bag he’d brought with him. Gently, we coaxed the heads into the bag, disturbing as little as we could.

Jasper began to comb the area around the rock pile, taking pictures of a rusty stain that looked like blood on the limestone.

I stared at the bag. Was this Viv’s curse? The creature she’d summoned?

My headlight went out, and something grabbed the back of my neck. I lurched, flailing. I turned and twisted, trying to free myself from the grip of whatever had me. My air hose was ripped free of the tank, and water rushed into my throat.

19

Missing

Something soft brushed my face, tenderly, caressing…and then a bright pain dragged along my ribs.

I spat out the mouthpiece and struggled to orient myself, flailing against that grip twisting into my side. A stream of bubbles trailed to my right…That way must be up. I kicked hard to rise to the surface of the water.

Something snagged my right fin. I thrashed until it came free. Lopsidedly, I rushed upward, where my bubbles led me. My lungs burned, and my vision narrowed.

A hand grabbed me under my arm, hauling me up, up into the light.

I broke the surface, gasping.

Jasper’s face bobbed beside me. It was his hand under my arm, not the Rusalka’s. “Are you okay?”