Page 98 of Salem’s Rise

Twenty.

Thirty.

At fifty, the first bell rings. Wren is hauled up almost immediately, coughing before the chair has fully cleared the surface. Lena curses at the lost points, but she’s already at Wren’s side, freeing her from the restraints and pulling her close as Wren dissolves into hysterical sobs.

At sixty seconds, another bell sounds and the blonde woman with the icy blue eyes comes up.

At ninety, the third chair rises. Rowan has tapped out.

At first, I’m thrilled that we beat Rowan and it’s just me and Van remaining. Van gives me a look of hatred, and I stare back, grinning, imagining how pissed he’ll be when we win.

Just a few more seconds to go. The cold water alone must be becoming unbearable. Breath-holding abilities aside, anyone still underwater can’t possibly last much longer before ringing their bell.

I stare at the clock.

Ninety.

One hundred.

Silas still does not ring.

I lean over the railing, but the harbor gives me nothing. Only black water fractured by lantern light.

One hundred twenty.

Across the pier, Van’s partner finally rings his bell. I’m about to let out a victorious yelp when I realize Van is not moving.

His partner’s bell rings again, harder this time, more insistent. The submerged chair jerks beneath the surface, the cord shuddering.

“What are you doing? Bring him up!” Lena screams.

Van keeps one hand resting lightly on the lever, his eyes on the clock as it passes one hundred fifty seconds. The bell becomes frantic, each strike colliding with the last until the sound is almost continuous. Every person on the pier is watching Van now. He looks bored.

“Mr. Hawthorne,” Professor Nightwing says, though whether it’s a warning or merely an acknowledgment, I can’t tell.

Van’s mouth curves. “He can hold longer.”

I’m horrified as I realize what Van is doing. He’s going to keep his partner underwater until Silas rings first, no matter the risk. And Silas…

My eyes snap back to Silas’s rope, still unmoving. That stubborn bastard. He’d rather die than ring the bell and lose.

The clock reaches an unbearable one hundred sixty seconds.

For any normal person, being submerged in cold water for this long—even with our protective suits—seems almost impossible, but perhaps Silas can stay under longer than most. Perhaps this is another Blackhollow advantage, another secret he’s decided I don’t deserve to know. And yet⁠—

I’m unwilling to take the chance with his life. He may be Silas Blackhollow, but he’s still only human. I don’t think he can survive like this much longer—if he is even still alive.

I seize the lever and pull.

My heart races uncontrollably as Silas’s chair breaks the surface. His skin is bloodless with cold, his dark hair plastered against his forehead, but his eyes are clear.

Thank God. He’s okay.

Relief hits so violently my knees weaken.

Van’s partner surfaces seconds later, his lifeless body hanging limp in the restraints, head fallen forward, water streaming from his open mouth. Van watches without expression.

“You brought me up,” Silas says between controlled breaths as I untie him. “I told you not to.”