Chapter 16

The coordinates burned in my pocket like a curse. Jesse steered the borrowed fishing boat through the predawn fog, the engine grumbling like an old man. Mara huddled beside me, her arms wrapped tight around herself. She hadn't spoken since we buried Mac.

"You sure about this?" Jesse shouted over the wind.

I gripped the ruby necklace, its edges biting into my palm. "We're close. I can feel it."

The GPS blinked. Latitude 44.7632, Longitude -67.2811.

Mara stiffened. "There."

A shadow loomed in the fog—a ship, its hull rotting and streaked with rust. No lights. No voices. Just the groan of metal as it drifted like a corpse.

The Drowning Bride.

Jesse killed the engine. We floated closer, the fog peeling back to reveal the name on the ship's side, faded but legible: SS Mariner's Fortune.

"This is it," Mara whispered. "Where they take us. Where they… drown us."

A rope ladder hung from the deck, swaying in the wind. Jesse tied the boat to it, his hands trembling. "Stay behind me," he said, but I was already climbing.

The deck creaked underfoot. The air stank of mildew and something sharper—bleach? Covering up stains. My flashlight cut through the dark, revealing rusted chains, a smashed lantern, and a hatch leading below.

"They lock us in the hold," Mara said, her voice hollow. "No windows. Just buckets of water. They make us drink saltwater until we…"

She didn't finish.

Jesse pried open the hatch. A staircase plunged into blackness. "Ready?"

The stairs groaned. Below, the hold was a cavern of shadows. My light swept over metal cages, empty now, their doors hanging open. Graffiti scarred the walls—names, dates, desperate pleas. HELP. THEY'RE LYING. TELL MY MOM I'M SORRY.

Mara traced a finger over a fresh carving: MC-13. "That's me. I was next."

A cold draft slithered through the hold.

Click.

A latch snapped shut above us.

"No!" Jesse sprinted up the stairs, slamming his shoulder against the hatch. "It's jammed!"

Dark laughter echoed from the deck.

The Ferryman.

"Miss me, kids?" Sheriff Pike's voice dripped with venom. "You're right on time. High tide's in 20 minutes. Perfect for a drowning."

Mara screamed, "LET US OUT!"

"Oh, I will. In pieces." His boots clanged away.

Panic clawed up my throat. Think, Ellie. THINK. The ruby pulsed in my hand like a heartbeat. I shoved it into my pocket and scanned the hold. "Look for another way out!"

Jesse kicked at the cages. "Nothing! Just iron and—"

Clink.

A chain shifted under his boot. Beneath it, a drainage grate.

"Help me!" Jesse wedged his fingers into the grate. Mara and I joined him, heaving until it screeched open.

Black water churned below.

"Tunnel," Jesse panted. "Might lead outside."

Mara recoiled. "I'm not going back in the water!"

"We don't have a choice!" I lowered myself into the hole, the icy water swallowing my legs. "Come on!"

Jesse jumped in next, then Mara. The tunnel was a coffin, so narrow we had to turn sideways. The water rose to our chests.

Slosh. Slosh. Slosh.

Something brushed my leg.

"Eels," Jesse said quickly. "Just eels."

But the thing that grabbed my ankle felt like fingers.

I screamed, thrashing. A skeletal face surfaced, flesh sloughing off bone. A corpse in a tattered blue dress.

Clara.

Her empty sockets stared at me as the current dragged her away.

"Ellie!" Jesse yanked me forward. "Keep moving!"

The tunnel opened into a cave. Moonlight filtered through a crack in the ceiling. We waded to a rocky ledge, gasping.

Mara vomited. "That was her, wasn't it? Your aunt?"

I nodded, shaking.

Jesse squeezed my shoulder. "We're close. I can smell salt air."

We followed the cave to a steel door marked with an anchor. The ruby fit into a slot like a key.

Click.

The door opened to a dim room lined with filing cabinets. A desk held a vintage typewriter and a stack of photos.

"Look." Jesse held up a picture: Mayor Caldwell's father shaking hands with a younger Sheriff Pike. Behind them, Mac stood in uniform, his face grim.

"Mac was part of the Circle," I whispered. "But he tried to leave."

Mara pulled a ledger from a shelf. "Shipment logs. Names. Dates. This is everything we need!"

A floorboard creaked.

The Ferryman stepped from the shadows, his hook gleaming. "Thanks for finding the evidence. Saves me the trouble."

Jesse grabbed a fire extinguisher. "Stay back!"

The Ferryman lunged. Jesse swung the extinguisher, knocking the hook from his hand. Mara tackled him, biting his arm until he roared.

"Run!" I shoved her toward the door. "Go!"

We fled into the cave, the Ferryman's curses chasing us. The tunnel split ahead.

"Left!" I yelled.

The passage narrowed. The Ferryman's breath rasped closer.

Dead end.

A rusty ladder led upward. We climbed, bursting onto the deck just as the sun cracked the horizon.

The Ferryman emerged behind us, bleeding but grinning. "Nowhere left to drown but here."

Jesse grabbed a flare gun from the lifeboat station. "Wrong."

He fired. The flare hit the Ferryman's coat, igniting the gasoline stains. Flames engulfed him. He stumbled, howling, and fell overboard.

The water swallowed him whole.

---

Back onshore, we spread the evidence in the motel room—photos, ledgers, the ruby. Mara slept on the couch, exhausted. Jesse bandaged his bruised knuckles.

"We did it," he said. "The Circle's finished."

But the ruby's hollow core held one last secret: a tiny film canister. Inside, a home movie from 1985.

We played it on the motel's ancient TV. Grainy footage showed Clara and Evelyn on a beach, laughing. A man approached—Mayor Caldwell's father. They argued. He grabbed Clara. Evelyn attacked him with a rock, but the Sheriff (young, clean-shaven) tackled her. The screen went black.

Text flashed: THEY LIED ABOUT THE LIGHT.

Jesse froze. "Ellie… Evelyn didn't drown. They framed her. She's alive."

The door exploded inward.

A woman stood there, her face a mirror of Clara's. Her eyes were cold as the sea.

"Hello, Ellie," Evelyn said. "Let's talk about your mother."