Page 65 of God of Monsters

A hard surface smacks against the soles of my feet and I gasp only seconds before the cold liquid pulls me under.

Down, down, I shoot like a bullet, slicing through the water, my legs numb and thick.

Fire burns inside my lungs, and with a desperate tug for air, I claw at flesh and climb the liquid wall that surrounds me.

I need air!

Nothing moves, or gives way, and I open my eyes in the murky darkness, find only a harrowing blackness, like floating off into outer space with no tether.

Something about it is peaceful. Calming.

Death?

I tilt my head back to surrender, eyes closed, and when I open my mouth, the crisp air fills my lungs. Opening my eyes shows the moon and the first few stars. I’m alive! Thank God, I’m alive!

The sound of shouts overhead have me spinning to see the lights scanning over the water, but they’re too far away to see me. It seems I’ve drifted away from the cliff.

“Find them!” Remus calls out, his voice echoing against the surrounding rock.

It’s then I realize I’m alone.

Over the sounds of distant shouts, I hear the struggle of gurgling and coughing, and I turn just in time to see Titus slip below the surface.

Leave him.

I set to swim in the opposite direction, managing no more than two strokes, before my body is yanked hard beneath the surface. Flailing my arms, I manage to breach the water for a single breath, and another tug pulls me under. In a desperate bid for escape, I kick Titus’s hand from my ankle and swim for another breath. I suck in a gulp of oxygen and peer down into the depths of the water below, only catching a massive shadow beneath me, sinking lower and lower.

My head tells me to let him drown.

Instead, I take one more breath and dive below the surface, blindly searching the waters. I bump into something hard, and hook my arm beneath his. Even in the water, his mass is no easy upward haul, but once the cool air hits my face, I tuck his chin into the crook of my elbow and swim for the bank just a few feet away. The sheer size of him exhausts my muscles, and by the time my feet hit the shallow sand, my lungs wheeze for breath.

Still dragging Titus behind me, I take advantage of his weightlessness in water, with one hard tug on a wave that carries him up onto the shore. I collapse at his side, coughing and sputtering small bits of water. Titus lies motionless beside me, and it’s then I notice the dart lodged into his shoulder.

The poison.

I dislodge the needle from his flesh and roll him onto his back. His throat pulses, as if he’s trying to breathe, but can’t. Tipping his head back, I open his mouth and press my lips to his to force air down into his lungs. His arms and legs remain still, but he coughs and opens his eyes.

Lobelia.

He needs the antidote, but finding it in darkness will be nearly impossible.

I should leave him. He’ll die of asphyxiation, I have no doubt about that.

“P … p … an … t.” His words are broken whispers, and I frown to focus on his lips. “P … pa … n … t.”

“Pant. Panting or pants?”

He blinks his eyes in response, and I look down his body to his low slung pants, noticing a small bulge in his pocket. Fishing my hands down inside, I dig around, fingers folding around something that, when I pull it out, appears to be a satchel. I open it and find a small bottle and syringe inside.

Lifting the dropper gives off a slight tobacco scent.

Lobelia.

At home, we’d steam it for Grant to breathe in, but Titus doesn’t have the ability to contract his lungs. I stuff the syringe into the bottle and draw up a small bit of it. Too much and it’s toxic. After pushing a small bit of fluid out of the tip, I hold the needle up for him to see. “I do this for you … you swear you won’t harm me?”

His eyes widen, as he continues to struggle for breath.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no.” The urgency heightens, but I don’t need to be ravaged, or hunted by an Alpha out here.