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"Ricky!" I shouted. My voice bounced around the cavern, meaning there was little chance he'd hear me, even less that I'd hear him.
Time to find the exit.
I dove and made my way methodically around the cave, feeling along the wall. Every time I came up for air, I called for Ricky, just in case, but I suspected my voice wasn't leaving this cavern.
I kept hunting until--
There! My fingers found the rough edge of what seemed like a passage out. I surfaced for a deeper breath, and then down I went, feeling my way into that gap, hoping it was an actual passage and not just a nook in the rock. Soon I could see light ahead, shimmering through the water.
I swam faster. A muffled sound came, almost like . . . music? As I broke through the surface, I heard the tinkling of bells. The sun had faded, the sky glowing with a weirdly yellow light, as if warning of a coming storm.
"Ricky?" I called, and again, my voice echoed, but what I heard was not Ricky but Arawn.
I called again. And again I heard that other name, his other name. Arawn, Lord of the Hunt. Arawn, Lord of the Otherworld.
I shivered and kept swimming. I could make out the shore ahead, but it seemed to waver, like I was looking at it from underwater. That yellowish light pulsed, and the bells tinkled. My hands touched down on the shore, and I felt rock. Warm rock as if warmed by the sun. I lifted my head over the ledge and--
I was looking at a distant golden castle, that yellow light shining from it, the tinkling bells coming from it. I gripped the ledge and started heaving myself up. To my side, deep in the dark water, I caught a flash of skin.
"Ricky?" I said, and heard, Arawn?
The figure swam up toward me. I saw flowing blond hair and exhaled in relief. I pulled myself up onto the ledge, turned to face the water, and said, "You need to see this," and heard my words come out in Welsh.
The figure swam up, still almost hidden in the shadowy dark water. I leaned out to extend my hand. Another hand broke the surface. Pale and slender. A woman's hand, wrapping around my ankle and dragging me into the water.
Three - Ricky
"Liv!"
Ricky stood on the rock over the swimming hole. He'd undressed as fast as he could, but she should have surfaced by now. As he squinted down at the dark water, though, he couldn't see as much as a ripple.
He bent his knees to jump and then locked them.
Sure, land on top of her when she's coming back up.
He jogged down the sloping path and cut through the brush for a shortcut. And, yeah, running through brush and bramble while naked wasn't the most pleasant experience, but the scrapes and jabs didn't bother him.
He made it to the swimming hole and stood on the grassy shore, hunting in vain for ripples.
I've lost her.
&n
bsp; Again.
That was Arawn, being as unhelpful as always, the voice deep in his head, like a long-dormant memory surfacing. Which it was. Old fears resurrected whenever Liv disappeared even for a split second. His heart would pound with Arawn's terror and self-condemnation, the memory of losing Matilda to the fire.
The fact that Liv's visions meant she routinely disappeared really didn't help.
One last booming shout of "Liv!" Then he leaped into the water and dove. He started under the overhanging rocks, but when he went down from there, he just kept descending until that alarm in his brain sounded, like an oxygen gauge hitting the half-full mark. Surface or you won't make it back.
He swam up and broke through, gasping for air and looking about as his heart pounded.
Stop and think. If Liv was hurt, she'd float, not sink like a rock to the bottom.
The swimming hole wasn't manmade, which meant it had plenty of nooks and crannies where she could have gotten caught.
Or where she could be hiding.
