Wednesday, continued

Six friends sat around a table on the patio at Forest Meadows Rest Home, watching the sun go down. The hospital had released Louise a couple hours earlier. Max and Lewis had brought her home while the girls had been dealing with Anthony at the moon pool.

Louise looked at the girls with wonder and admiration. "That's astonishing! Really, I was at my wits' end wondering what could possibly stop Anthony or change his mind. Short of killing him outright, I couldn't see a solution. But of course, I did not know you girls had a wish potion."

"Yeah," Rikki said. "We didn't keep that from you on purpose. It's just that we only got it a few days ago and a lot's been happening lately."

"An awful lot has been happening lately," Lewis said.

"If you would please indulge an old woman, tell me about this awful lot," Louise said. "It's clear you youngsters are overwhelmed with something." She looked around the table, giving them a knowing look. "Sometimes, just talking everything out, and listing everything that's happening to you, can set things in order."

"She's right," Max said. "And when she means everything, she means everything." He looked at the teenagers meaningfully.

Cleo was deeply bothered. "But..."

"Louise is stronger than you think she is," Max said. "Far stronger. The moon pool chooses girls made of stern stuff. She has a right to know."

Cleo looked crestfallen.

Max looked at Louise. "They're worried about your heart. They mean well. But my spirit's telling me this is an all-hands-on-deck problem."

Louise smiled, grateful to Max. "I understand. And yes, girls, I can take far more than you think I can."

"You've had three heart attacks in a month!" Cleo said despondently.

"You don't have the power to give me any more," Louise said with a smile. "You girls bring joy to my life, not agony! So please don't be angry with Max. He is correct, and wiser than you. So. Start at the beginning. Where did you get a wish potion?"

Slowly, taking their time, the girls told Louise (and Max) everything they had experienced since Friday: losing control of a giant blob of wish slime ("Yes, it was my fault!" Rikki said, rolling her eyes); dinner with all their parents; meeting Max; their lockets getting a tune-up (they excitedly showed Louise the fresh prints Max had put in the lockets); apologizing to the moon pool and getting their powers back; their moral dilemma over whether to use the wish potion; their fear of using the wish potion too easily, like a crutch; and giving Anthony a chance to change before they vanquished him.

Then they told Louise the scariest thing of all. She listened intently, her face betraying very little. She only interrupted to ask what a hologram was.

When the girls finished, Louise sat pondering for a moment. "Well, this is certainly new," she finally said. "We never experienced anything like that. In fact, I don't recall the moon pool ever communicating with us directly, using any method." She looked at the girls. "It was basically speaking to you directly! That's amazing!"

"But still in riddles," Rikki said. "Its favorite thing to do."

"Do you have any thoughts about this vision?" Lewis asked her.

Louise pondered again. "Not definitely, no. But a suspicion. There are three things which jump out at me. One, where did all the people go? You say they're not dead, just gone. I find that very bizarre.

"The second thing is how the vision made you feel. You were watching this...hollow picture?"

"Hologram," Emma said.

"But you were watching it with your eyes, yes?" Louise asked. "As opposed to dreaming it, or something?"

Rikki said, "Yeah, when we say vision, we mean it was an infodump from the moon pool, not an old-fashioned vision that came into our heads like telepathy or anything like that."

"It was a fancy video," Cleo said. "We just sat and watched it."

"That's where I think you're wrong, dear," Louise said. "Just looking at all three of you while you describe it, it's clear your dread is much deeper and more profound than a mere video could produce, especially when you're so used to movies and TV shows with such advanced graphics these days. Something about the grey shroud shook you so deeply, I feel like I'm looking at trauma survivors when you talk about it. I think the moon pool didn't just show you an image, I think it also impressed into your minds the urgency and evil of the situation. Because whenever you mention the grey shroud, you stress how insidious it was, and how horrible it made you feel. I believe one hundred percent that the moon pool was making sure you understood how important that is.

"And that leads me to the third thing, which is the way you describe the greyness as a shroud. Which is understandable, because shrouds are associated with death. But a shroud is thick enough to block sight, whereas you describe something very thin, almost like gossamer. Something which didn't block your sight of the world, merely covered it with a grey hue. And I have a suspicion. Girls, instead of shroud, could a better word to describe what you saw be veil?"

The girls perked up and looked at each other in wonder.

"Yes!" Emma said. "A veil would be the perfect description!"

"What are you thinking, Lou?" Max asked.

Louise gazed into the distance, contemplating deeply. "I'm thinking that I've asked you a hundred times not to call me Lou," she said, almost absentmindedly.

Max chuckled.

"I'm also thinking about water sprites. Sometimes called water spirits, or water pixies." She brought her attention back to the table. "Every culture in the world has legends and myths about water sprites. They're universal across literally hundreds of cultures. Look at any mythology throughout Africa, India, China, Siberia, Japan, Korea, Thailand, Aboriginal Australians, Polynesians, Mexico, South America, Native Americans, Inuit, Norway, Ireland, Iceland, Russia, ancient Rome...you name it, the mythology is there.

"Each culture had a different word for them. Germans called them nixie, Greeks called them nymphs and naiads, Nordic and Celtic cultures called them selkie, Aboriginal Australians called them yawkyawks. Ancient Britains believed in a river hag called Jenny Greenteeth. You get the picture.

"They're almost always feminine. Sometimes, they're shapeshifters. Any dangerous or mysterious water supposedly had an associated spirit: deep cavern pools; rivers; waterfalls; the ocean. In some mythologies, the spirits are related to mermaids and sirens, the common theme being dangerous women of the water. There are differences among the mythologies, but a lot of similarities. A vast majority of these mythologies depict water spirits as evil, luring people to their deaths, or perhaps coming onto land to steal their children."

"A lot of that would simply be people anthropomorphizing water danger, which is universal," Lewis said.

"Lewis, if you're going to use fifty-dollar words, I'll have to ask you to leave," Louise said.

Lewis smiled. "I mean, it's perfectly natural for ignorant, uneducated people to give life-like qualities to natural phenomena. Water kills people, all the time. It's scary, so people treat water like an enemy who can strike any moment. That treatment morphs into the water being personified as an evil, capricious demon. The stories help people make sense of their world, and also serve as a quick and easy way to convince children not to play in the dangerous water. The fact that water sprites are found in every culture is simply because water is dangerous all around the world, and people are the same all around the world."

"You're right, and you're not," Louise said. "All that is true, but that doesn't mean water spirits don't exist."

"You know this?" Cleo asked softly, her eyes bugging out. "Like, you've met one?!"

"No," Louise said. "I'm not asserting they exist, I'm just saying they might exist, despite Lewis's explanation. Somehow, I feel in my mermaid bones that they do. At least some of them. If they do, then maybe they've always existed. Or, maybe they exist simply because people believed in them so hard that they manifested."

Lewis gave her a funny look. "That can happen?"

Louise shrugged. "I've never known it to, but it's a possibility you should keep an open mind about."

Lewis nodded, accepting this.

"What about the vision makes you think of water sprites?" Cleo asked.

"Your assertion that whatever's coming is malevolent. I agree with you about that, and water sprites might fit the bill. But mostly, it's your description. There are differences among mythologies as to how water sprites are said to appear, but there are many similarities. Particularly, a number of mythologies say the sprite's face is often concealed with a grey veil."

Emma gasped.

"The veil, and its grey color, suggest a covering of mist," Louise said. "Hiding the sprite's face, making it even scarier and more mysterious." She shrugged. "I don't know that that's anything to go on. It may not be connected to the veil in your vision, and your vision may have nothing to do with water sprites at all. But it just jumped out at me. It struck me as deeply significant, somehow."

"We'll certainly look into it," Lewis said. "Max and I are researching our little hearts out."

"And thank you, Max, for preventing me from making a mistake," Cleo said, looking abashed.

He smiled. "No problem. Like I told Louise, you meant well."

"And everything today, at least, turned out well!" Louise said with a grin.

"Not for everyone," Emma said. "We gave Anthony the best chance we possibly could to reject his father's poison, but...he chose to drown in it."

"That's sadly true of so many people," Max said. "They ride resentment and bitterness to their grave, never knowing peace or happiness, even when people around them care enough to help, if they'd accept it."

"I, too, have met many such people," Louise said sadly. "As you get older, you'll meet more of them, also. And drowning is a great way to put it, for you can't help a drowning person who's thrashing around and lashing out at you.

"And it was even worse for Anthony, because he truly loved his father. Loved him enough to be blind to his faults. The tie between child and parent is almost unbreakable, as it should be. But when it's poisoned, its unbreakability becomes a perverted curse." She shook her head. "I blame Karl. I don't think I can ever forgive him for taking advantage of his own child's love, and poisoning him with his bitterness and false need for vengeance! What a petty, tragic, nasty thing to do to one's own child! Karl started digging his own son's grave. With love and loyalty, Anthony gladly took the shovel, and finished it himself."

"Did we do the right thing, Louise?" Emma asked quietly, and in that moment, she was a sixteen-year-old girl needing an adult to tell her she was okay.

"I think you did the best thing, considering the available options, and considering the situation," Louise said. "As I said earlier, I myself had no better solution to offer."

"I believe there was no right answer," Max said. "I think you chose the least bad choice out of an array of bad choices. And frankly, sometimes, that's all any of us can do: the least damage. That's just a cold, hard truth. You achieved protection from an evil man, with the minimum of harm to anyone, and you kept your compassion, your integrity, and your dignity intact while doing it. I certainly couldn't have come up with anything better, and I applaud you. You have my utmost admiration."

"As uncomfortable as it all feels, you know what Max and I are saying is true," Louise said. "So take the win, and forgive yourselves. Life's too short to do otherwise."