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I take several deep breaths, then exhale and submerge myself once more. Thick weeds sway in the murky water, reaching up from the silt-clouded depths. I still haven’t found Alaric when the need to breathe forces me back to the surface.
We must go.
I ignore them and sink once more.Where is he?
A flash of white leaps out from the underwater forest of weeds. I swim toward it. The long, lacy greenery tangle around my limbs as I struggle to make my way toward Alaric.
His eyes are closed as if he’s sleeping, trapped within like a fairytale prince, cursed to sleep, locked in a moment of time.
I press a palm to his face. Alaric’s eyes twitch under his lids. My dagger makes quick work of the fronds. I press the blade to the ropes around his wrists. Glinting silver threads woven through it makes my progress slow. I would bet they are made of night-forged silver, which would explain why he couldn’t break them.
Finally, the rope snaps. Alaric jolts, but his legs are still tangled. I grab a fist full and slice. Our eyes meet. And then he races toward the surface.
I kick my legs to follow. Pressure squeezes around my middle then tows me deeper and deeper with a vicious jerk.
The unexpected force causes me to lose my grip on the dagger. It sinks fast, disappearing into the cloud of displaced silt.
The demon holds me down, pressing me into the shingle. They hover above me. Their voice penetrates the water as easily as air. “Yourrrr vammmpire can do nottthing to saaave yooou thisss timmme.”
This time?
An image of racing through the forest on a horse. Demons on our heel. Flying through the air. Searing pain. Arms carrying me to safety.
Stabbing pain pierces my side as they drag a talon across my waist where my top has ridden up, exposing a band of skin. They scratch, leaving angry welts, and on the next pass, they press down harder, deep enough to slice open skin. Blood darkens the water, making it harder to see.
Or perhaps it is unconsciousness swallowing the light.
Desperation is the only thing keeping me from giving in. My fingers claw uselessly at the lakebed. Air bubbles escape my lips.
The demon lowers its maw toward my neck. Razor-sharp teeth scrape against my skin. They are taking their time, drawing out fear as they find the spot where they will cause the most damage.
I feel the brush of smooth, silken warmth against my cold hand. The demon tenses, readying for the killing blow. Wrapping my hand around my last hope, I drive my fist up, aiming for the soft spot right behind their jaw. The blade sinks in. Using the last of my energy, I twist and wrench the dagger, slicing several inches down the demon’s neck.
My grip goes slack, and my hand falls away. The weight of the demon is gone.
But it’s too late now. I don’t have the strength to escape this watery grave.
Varin?
There is only silence from the demon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CLARA
Dying is a lot like floating.
Pressure squeezes my jaw until it hurts.
I peel open my eyes and see Alaric hovering over me. He glowers and releases my face. Banding an arm around my ribs, he holds me against his side. Then we are rising.
I can’t keep my eyes open.
My back crashes against something hard. The jolt rouses me… but it’s too late.
The air is sharp. It pierces my soaked clothes and singes my skin. Pressure comes down on my chest over and over until my lungs spasm, forcing the water out. I cough and gasp. Every breath is like shards of glass scraping along my throat and lungs.
Two hands help me roll to my side, then rub soothing circles over my back until I’m no longer struggling.
