Chapter 6 · The Coat That Breathed

The lullaby stopped halfway through the last note.

Lin stood ankle-deep in black water, staring at the face beneath the surface.

Her mother’s face.

No—not a face. A suggestion of one, assembled from ripples and drowned light. The eyes were too deep, the mouth too wide, and yet Lin recognized the small crease beside the left nostril. She had seen it in old photographs. She had touched it in the only portrait her mother had left behind.

The water smiled at her.

Come here, Lanlan.

The voice did not travel through the air. It moved inside her teeth.

Lin took one step forward.

Nara caught her wrist so hard her nails bit through Lin’s sleeve. “Don’t answer.”

The black water surged around them. Something brushed Lin’s calf, soft as wet hair.

“Let go,” Lin whispered.

“If you answer, it can count you.” Nara’s voice shook, but her grip did not. “It’s waiting for your name.”

Behind them, Tavi swore. “The tide’s coming up!”

Soren Pike raised the brass inspection lamp. Its blue flame flickered, revealing the walls of Lin’s workshop bending inward. Shelves leaned like exhausted men. Glass jars rattled.