“Lilith?” Naamah whispered.
“Take care to call me Morgan now,” the raven croaked softly. “Dawn is approaching, and the time for our plan is upon us. Are the seeds of Eden safe?”
“Yes. They’re hidden in my bed.”
“Good. You will be able to get them later. For now, take the grapes I put in your hand and follow me.”
Naamah closed her fingers around a handful of dried grapes, checked the sleeping infant at her side, and tiptoed into the dim corridor. The raven landed on her shoulder. “Follow the moonlight to the window.”
Naamah obeyed, timing her barefooted steps to match the squeaks of the rocking ark. When she reached the window, the fresh breeze jolted her fully awake. Blinking her eyes, she angled her head toward Morgan. “What now?”
“It is time for you to take the next step.”
“The next step? I already had a baby. Haven’t I taken enough steps?”
“Don’t worry. Having the baby was the most difficult part of your journey.”
“You’re telling me! He was so big, I thought I was having a whale!”
“Yes, I expected him to be larger than most. The potion I gave you saw to that. I’m sure you felt the changes it made inside you.”
“You know how small I am. I could have died having a baby that big.”
“I watched over you. If you had been in danger of dying, I would have taken this step immediately.”
Naamah set her fists on her hips. “What is this step?”
Morgan fluttered to the wooden floor. “To make you immortal.” The raven slowly grew, stretching into a misshapen giant of a bird. Its wings thinned into human arms, and its pointed beak shrank into Morgan’s angular nose. Seconds later, Naamah’s sister stood in the raven’s place, her silky black dress flowing in the breeze.
“You’re. .” Naamah caressed Morgan’s face, but it seemed ghostly physical in a way, but not quite real. Her cheeks were sunken and sallow, more like a cadaver’s than those of the beautiful woman who once answered to Lilith. “Are you human?” Naamah asked.
Morgan took Naamah’s hand. “Not exactly. You might call me a wraith. My body died in the flood, but my spirit lives on in this world on borrowed time. I cannot last much longer without going to a new home my lord has prepared for me. There, I will be restored and live forever.”
Naamah took a step back on her trembling legs. “And now you want me to be a wraith like you?”
“You will be young and beautiful.” Morgan caressed Naamah’s cheek with her yellowed, bony fingers. “When you see what I have in store for us, you will jump at the chance.”
Naamah resisted the urge to grimace at Morgan’s ghostly touch. “Jump at the chance? Why?”
“Well, let’s just say you can keep your charming ways, stay beautiful forever, and you won’t have to worry about having any more babies.”
Though Naamah tried not to smile, her lips curved upward. “So what do I have to do to become immortal?”
“You have to die.”
“Die?” Naamah’s voice pitched higher. “But immortal means ”
“Silence!” Morgan glanced toward the sleeping quarters and lowered her voice to the softest whisper. “The potion you drank will restore you, then we can fly to our new home and become like goddesses.”
“Goddesses?” Naamah’s fear began to melt away. “Are you sure?”
Morgan spread out her arms. “I drowned in the flood, dead as any other lost soul in the wake of Elohim’s wrath, and yet I stand here before you now. I assure you that my original beauty will be restored soon, perhaps enhanced with even more allure, as will yours.”
“What do I do?”
Morgan nodded toward the ark’s window. “You are small enough to climb through and jump. When you drown in the flood, you will be transformed into a flying creature. Then, look for me in my raven form and follow me.”
This time, Naamah couldn’t hold back her grimace. “I have to drown? That sounds painful.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing.” Morgan laid her hands on Naamah’s cheeks again and purred a melody.
To Satan we will bring
The seeds to sow and sing.
We’ll water plant and root,
Then pluck the giant fruit.
Your waking mind abates;
The sleep of death awaits.
Rebirth on wings is near;
Your sleep will cast out fear.
Releasing Naamah’s cheeks, Morgan blew softly into her eyes. Her breath was cold and dry, instantly evaporating all moisture. Naamah’s eyelids fluttered. “I’m so sleepy,” she said, yawning.
Morgan interlaced her fingers and set her hands in a cradle near the window. “Then hurry. I’ll boost you before you fall asleep.”
Naamah yawned again, set her foot in Morgan’s hands, and climbed into the window. As she straddled the sill, she looked down from the dizzying height, her mind swimming as the ark rocked back and forth on white-capped waves. She grasped the window frame with both hands and cried out, “The water’s so far down, I can barely see it. Can’t we wait until morning?”
Naamah felt a sudden shove. She toppled over and plummeted headfirst toward the sea, screaming. Just before she struck the waves, blackness snuffed her thoughts.
Makaidos lifted his head. “Did you hear that?”
Thigocia’s ears twitched. “A scream?”
“That’s what I thought. But it was brief. . silenced.” Makaidos raised his body, his weak legs shaking beneath him. “I think it came from the window.” He aimed his eyebeams, casting twin rays toward the ark’s breezeway. The dim rays darted around the walls of the listing ark until they landed on the window. A gust of wind threw open the shutter. It banged against the hull, squeaked loudly as it drew back toward the window, then banged open again.
“Just the shutter squeaking?” Thigocia asked.
“No. It was different. . louder. A human voice.” Makaidos lumbered into the corridor, passing Ham’s quarters. Baby Canaan lay swaddled in the hay, alone. It was Ham’s turn to patrol the lower decks, so it made sense that he was gone, but Naamah only left her bed to eat and take care of personal hygiene, and she usually took Canaan with her. She had always been so possessive of her baby, even keeping him away from his other relatives, it seemed strange to see him lying there alone.
Makaidos extended his neck and gently nudged the baby with his snout. Canaan squirmed and reached his pudgy arms over his wrappings, stretching his mouth into a yawning oval. The dragon nodded. The baby seemed fine. Perhaps Naamah had thought him old enough to sleep on his own. Maybe she decided to accompany Ham this time. They did not get along well, certainly not like Noah and Emzara, or his brothers and their wives. Spending time working together with the animals might be just what they needed. But why the scream? Could she have fallen down the ladder?
Makaidos lumbered to the hole leading to the lower levels and peered down. Although his eyebeams were dimmer than usual, he could still see the deck below. A single lantern hung nearby, casting yellow flickering light on the gopher wood planks. He stretched as far as he could, but the light gave no hint of any awakened animals, except for a few birdcage tenants, including two owls that stared back at him, their eyes wide and curious.
A strange shadow seemed to crawl along the floor, like fog creeping from one cage to the next. The lantern’s weak glow gave only a hint of the fog’s depth and color shallow and black as it drifted closer to the owls. The other birds seemed to take no notice, and the owls kept their gaze locked on the dragon’s beams, as though the fog were invisible to their probing eyes. One of the parrots, however, shifted back and forth, bobbing its head excitedly.
A hint of danger crept over Makaidos’s body. After so many months of safety, the subtle tingling that buzzed through his scales seemed like a distant memory, yet alarming all the same. He blinked at the fog. Could that be the cause? It would have to be a powerful evil for his weakened senses to pick it up.