Grabbing the fabric, I pulled.
And, bloody hell, something pulled back.
Adrenaline surged through me. The water gripped Graham, wrapped around him, dragged him deeper even as I fought to bring him up. My lungs burned. My vision blurred at the edges. I was being pulled down with him, the curse not caring whether it took one life or two.
You can’t have him!I screamed inside my own head.He’s mine. He’s done nothing to you. It’s me you want. My ancestors are the problem. Not his. He’s not yours to take.
The resistance faltered. Just for a second.
But it was enough.
I kicked toward the surface, hauling Graham with me, my muscles screaming in protest.
We broke through together, but I wasn’t strong enough, and we went under again. My eyes burned with tears as panic gripped me. I couldn’t keep Graham above the water. It was too much. And then Ramsay was there, grabbing Graham’s arms, wrapping both of us in his massive arms and dragging us toward shore.
Once there, I stumbled to my knees, as Ramsay laid Graham gently out. I reached for him and choked out a sob.
He wasn’t breathing.
Graham wasn’t breathing.
“No,” I heard myself say. “No, no, no?—”
“I’m going for help,” Ramsay shouted and disappeared up the shoreline, screaming.
I didn’t know if we had the time to get help.
All we have is me.
Graham’s face was cold and expressionless and the scariest sight I’d ever seen.
I fumbled, my hands slipping, and then forced myself to think. I’d taken CPR training before. I could do this. Tilting his head back, I pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth. Once. Twice. And then I pressed on his chest and began to count.
Everything blurred. All I could do was keep pumping his chest, and breathing into his mouth, as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“Come on, Graham. Come on. Breathe. Please breathe. Please?—”
He coughed.
Water erupted from his mouth, and he rolled onto his side, heaving, gasping, his body convulsing as he expelled the dark water from his lungs.
Alive.
He was alive.
I collapsed beside him, sobbing, shaking, unable to do anything but press my face into my hands and cry.
“Agnes?” His voice was wrecked, barely a whisper. “What... what happened?”
“I don’t know, Graham. You were just… walking into the loch.” My body shook from cold, from the adrenaline, and I turned to look at the water. Were we still too close? Could it pull us back in? Panic surged again.
“Get up,” I said, tugging his arm. “Graham, get up. Come on now.”
“Agnes, I need …”
“I don’t care what you need!” I screamed, as shouts sounded along the bank. “Get up now!”
“I’m trying. Okay, okay.” Graham rolled to his knees, his movements sluggish, and I took his arm, heaving him up to his feet.
