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She glances between me and the still open porthole with a laugh. “Oh dear, you don’t think you’ll actually be able to fit through there, darling, do you?” She arches a pale brow. “You’re slim, I’ll give you that, but not that slim.”
“Why?” I ask, stalling for time. If I can just keep her talking for a few more minutes, there’s a chance I’ll make it out of here before she makes me set myself on fire or something equally horrific. “Why do what you did to Edmond? Why curse him? Yes, he’s a great guy, but there are tons of great guys out there in the world, and you’re gorgeous, powerful, wealthy as hell, and have nothing but time on your hands. You could have found another man just as wonderful as Edmond, one who actually wanted to be with you as much as you wanted to be with him.”
What looks like genuine sadness tightens her features. “If you believe that, then you don’t deserve him.”
“I deserve a man who adores me and sees that I’m something special,” I say, changing tacks. “Why would you want a man who didn’t feel the same way about you?”
“Because I’m not something special,” she whispers. “No one ever believed that I was special, so I never believed it myself. And when you don’t believe a thing, you can’t become the thing, Cassandra. Surely, you can see that.”
She sounds so young and vulnerable, so lost that I almost feel sorry for her.
But then I remind myself what she did to Edmond, that she basically tried to commit the slow-motion murder of the man I love.
And that she may still get away with it if I can’t get off this fucking boat…
Cutting a glance toward the still terrifyingly empty porthole, I say, “That’s when we go to therapy, Priscilla. That’s when we get a life coach or a guru or a stack of self-help books. That’s not when you kill people because they didn’t fill the hole inside of you. Even if he’d agreed to marry you, Edmond never would have filled that hole. Only you can do that.”
She heaves a sigh and rolls her eyes like a teenager asked to take out the garbage. “Okay, now I’m bored. Humans are boring. You’ll see that soon enough. Once I make you one of us.”
My brows shoot up. “What? I don’t want to be a vampire.”
“But you said you did.”
“I was lying, to get you to trust me enough to let me make you that drink.”
“That’s clear to me now, Cassandra,” she says with a devilish little smile. “But I don’t care what you want. And since I’m under the influence of your little potion, you can be sure I mean every word when I tell you I intend to make you a vampire, keep you locked up and starving for several days, and then unleash you on your baby girl. You’ll be so desperate for blood you’ll most likely kill her.” She shrugs. “But even if you have the self-control to stop, it will be too late. You’ll have become the monster under her bed. For the rest of her life, she’ll be terrified of her own mother, and you’ll be as dead to her as my father is to me.”
My stomach bottoms out with horror and I have to slap a hand over my mouth to keep from being sick.
I can’t be sick. And I can’t let myself be turned. I have to get out of here, and if the cavalry isn’t coming—maybe something happened, and the bag didn’t make it into the ocean after all—then there’s only one way out.
I’m about to leap over the bar and make a dash for the stairs leading up to the deck when the miracle I’ve been silently praying for bursts onto the scene. Giant tentacles, each fatter than the tree trunks in a redwood forest, crash through the side of the yacht. One explodes through the porthole, while another thrashes up through the floor, sending splintered wood flying.
Priscilla cries out as she’s thrown through the air and one of the two giant bodyguards tumbles down the stairs, becoming visible just seconds before he splashes into the water already rapidly filling the hull.
I have no idea where Big Scary number two is, but I’m not going to stick around to find out.
“Kitty, I’m here!” I shout.
Almost instantly, one giant tentacle wraps gently around my waist, pulling me through the newly expanded porthole and out into the cool autumn air. Kitty thrashes a few more times, summoning pained groans from inside, before disentangling herself from the sinking yacht.
As she churns away from the dock, my feet dip into the freezing ocean water, but the rest of me stays safely above the waves.
When she scrambles onto the sand beneath the cliffs a few minutes later, my boots and socks are the only damp part of me and I’m too high on adrenaline to be bothered by numb toes.
Thankfully, the adrenaline rush seems to have banished the worst of my nausea as well.
“Good girl,” I say, scooping the now lap dog sized Kitty into my arms, my breath rushing out as she runs frantic tentacles over my face and shoulders. “I’m fine. You did it, Kitty. You saved my life. And Edmond’s. I know how to save him. She told me. The spell worked!”
Kitty’s tentacles flap with more enthusiasm, making me think she’s nearly as happy as I am, though I can’t understand her without her whiteboard and marker.
“Yes, it’s amazing news,” I say, jogging toward the mouth of the stream that empties into the ocean. We have to get Kitty back home before the saltwater makes her sick. House krakens aren’t like their sea monster cousins. After centuries adapting to life in freshwater pipes, they can’t survive for long in the ocean. But the stream running through town should give Kitty a clear path back to the mansion and safety. “Now, get back to the house before you get sick, okay? I’ll come give you an update as soon as I can. First, I have to warn the Blackmores that the Shadowbanes are attacking tonight.”
Kitty hums a snippet of a tune I don’t place until after I’ve tossed her into the stream and watched her churn through the water toward home.
It was “Never Gonna Give You Up,” by Rick Astley.
Either I just got rick rolled by my house pet or Kitty was trying to tell me not to give up, to never give up.
