Emily Windsnap and the Siren's Secret by Liz Kessler Page B

Where was it taking me?
    But this wasn’t like that current. It wasn’t dragging me out anywhere; it was hardly pulling at all. It felt more as if it were leading me somewhere, directing me, helping me. I wanted to follow it!
    I let go of my resistance and let the current do the work. Soon I was zooming through the water, racing against a stripy yellow-and-black fish, whizzing past trails of fern and weed.
    And then the current slowed. The sea had turned darker, and colder. The fluttery feeling came back. What was I doing, floating along on a current that had led me this far down? I hadn’t even looked where I was going. How was I ever going to get back and find Shona again?
    And where was I, anyway?
    I looked around. The current had pulled me to the top of a circle of tall rocks. I couldn’t see the bottom of them, but they were grouped around a dark hole, like an enormous well. I swam to the edge of the well and looked down. It was foaming and rushing with water that poured down like an underwater waterfall.
    I could feel the current again. It was lifting me, edging me closer to the top of the well. It seemed to be teasing me, daring me to go down. Should I? Could I?
    Before I had time to decide, the current nudged me right to the edge of the well. A moment later, I was hurtling over the top, into the waterfall.
    Water rushed at me from every side, turning me over and around, pulling me farther and farther down, dragging me ever closer to the bottom of the sea. I tried to fight against it, tried to swim upward, but it was impossible. The current was dragging me lower and lower, throwing me down faster than anything I’d ever known. It was like a rocket — only heading down, toward the seabed.
    Eventually, I gave in and let it pull me. And then, before I knew what was happening, it stopped.
    Bedraggled, exhausted, and disheveled, I had landed — in a dark, enclosed, rocky hole at the bottom of the ocean.

I glanced around, my eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. There were rocks on every side of me. I was at the bottom of the well. The weird thing was, the rushing water had stopped. All I could see was clear water leading all the way up — so clear I could see right to the top. It looked like an awfully long way up.
    Where had the waterfall gone?
    I tried to swim up the well again, but an enormous force stopped me. I kept on landing back in the same spot, shoved back down. The waterfall’s force was still there, but with no rushing water. Impossible — but real. It was like a magic trick.
    Then there was a sound of movement from somewhere nearby. I whizzed around to see where it had come from. That was when I noticed that one side of the well had a hole in it, just big enough to swim through. A bunch of seaweed hung down from the top of the hole, like thick cord. I pushed through it and swam out of the well.
    I found myself in a larger opening. Above me, the ceiling was smooth brown stone. Below, the sandy floor slipped away, sloping gradually downward. All around me, the walls were lined with stony, jagged pillars and arches and caverns. Trails of multicolored seaweed dangled here and there like Christmas decorations. Behind them, I heard the swishing sound again. In the growing light, I saw a tail flick sharply.
    “Shona!” I cried in relief, swimming toward the tail.
    But it wasn’t Shona.
    “Who are you?” the mermaid and I said in unison.
    She swam toward me. “How did you get here?” she said. “No one comes here — ever.”
    “I — I — I swam,” I stammered. “Where am I, anyway? And who are you?”
    The mermaid swam closer to me, looked me straight in the eyes, swam all around me, then came back to face me. Her face was lined and pale. She seemed old, but at the same time almost ageless, and strangely beautiful. Her silvery hair was so long it flowed all the way down her back and stroked her tail as she swam. Her tail was a musty, dusty mix of mauve and pink. She looked a bit like someone