Breathless (25 page)

“Don’t pretend that you know anything about what goes on beyond the waves, human.”

The unexpected closeness was exactly what I needed to make my move. Because of my time with Bastin, I knew that when mers walked on legs, they inherited the parts that came between them. Using every ounce of strength I had, I brought my knee crashing into his groin.

The mer made a soft squeak-like sound before he crumpled against the dock. I jumped over him, not real y sure where to go, just knowing that I had to make it to land. I scrambled down the rotting planks until my foot sunk into soft earth. I hadn’t even a second to celebrate my success when something jumped out of the water and darted in front of me, trapping me.

Even with her purple hair, she looked like an average girl my age—an average
naked
girl—but I knew better. Hissing, she closed in on me, her fingers curled into claws that—I knew from experience—were sharp enough to cut bone.

I took a step back, my pulse hammering its way up my throat so that I could taste the sourness of fear on my tongue. I wondered if Sir had discovered me missing yet. If so, maybe I could scream loud enough for him to hear.

But, even as the thought crossed my mind, two arms fastened themselves around my waist. I had a moment, when my feet left the ground, when I thought I might actual y be flying, like that horrific moment when Russel ’s boat had shattered into pieces.

That was, however, until I hit the water.

My wrists were locked inside of two hands on either side of my body—hands that were pul ing me deeper. During my struggle and fal into the water, I hadn’t had a chance to suck in a decent breath. It wasn’t long before the familiar burning of suffocation ignited my lungs. I fought, twisting and pul ing against their grip, until tired and defeated, I fel limp in their hands. I didn’t even have the energy to worry about my soon-to-be drowning.

Despite the curtain of black creeping along the edges of my vision, I could tel we were moving fast—speed boat fast. If the mers cared about drowning me they didn’t show it. Seconds were al I had left. The pressure building inside my head let me know we were deep enough that I’d never make it to the surface in time. The blackness in my sight grew until it I felt a floating sensation that had nothing to do with being in the water.

And then a hand wrenched into my hair, yanking my head back. A pair of scaly lips pressed against mine, so forceful y that my teeth bit into the flesh inside my cheeks, and a blast of air was shoved down my throat.

I swal owed it greedily, despite the foul fish taste. I wondered if this was how the mers kept the humans alive—they waited until you were half-unconscious from oxygen deprivation before al owing you a breath of air. If so, then Bastin had been right al along—it was hel .

As the mers pul ed me deeper, the light became less until it disappeared entirely, leaving me in floating darkness. A new wave of panic set in, itching along my bones like crawling centipedes. Deep in the pitch-black water, with no gravity, and no light, I could no longer tel which direction was up. If the mers were to let go of me—there would be no way to be sure I could find the surface. My fear brought to life things in the water that couldn’t be real—like fingers pul ing through my hair and scratching along my legs.

A scream bubbled in the back of my throat—a scream that would kil me if it made its way out. It rose higher and higher, until it sat on the tip of my tongue, trying to pry its way through my teeth.

But, before it could, I was thrust upward where my head broke through water. Unsure of how long I’d be there, I sucked in al the air I could in hungry gasps. Stil , I was surrounded by darkness. It didn’t make sense. How could I be above the water and stil not see anything?

And then I was pushed on top of what felt like a jagged rock, and I knew. From my new position I was put under a sliver of light shining through a crack in the rock above. My eyes adjusted to my surroundings, which was real y nothing more than rock. I was in a cave no bigger than my bedroom, with only a thin lip of rock to sit on, a crack too smal and high to climb through, and an exit too deep to swim out of.

I was trapped, with literal y no way out.

There was a splash and the green-haired merman and purple-haired mermaid were suddenly on either side of me. The merman brought his head dangerously close to mine, fil ing my nostrils with his fish stink. “Don’t even think about escaping,” he growled. “Not that you could.”

I tried to scoot away but my back was met with stone. “So what happens next?”

“You wait.”

“For what?”

He smiled, his teeth gleaming as brightly as the sharks teeth around his neck. “For Bastin, little sandpiper. That is, unless he decides you’re not worth the trouble.”

The mermaid giggled, a sound that raised the hairs on the back of my arm.

“For your sake”—the merman jabbed a sharp claw-like nail into my chest—“you better hope he comes. Your only value to me is as a bargaining tool. If Bastin doesn’t make the trade, then you have no use.” He grin widened, implying everything that he left unsaid.

“What do you want from him?” I asked, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.

He groaned and leaned forward to look at the mermaid. “I told you they were stupid creatures. The earth wil only benefit from their extermination.”

She giggled harder.

He turned his attention back to me. “Bastin has a rock, and I want it.”

“A rock?” As soon as the words left my tongue, I knew. They wanted the nicite—the stone that purified the water for Bastin’s people and could also bury the land underwater. It felt as if thousands of ice shards flooded my veins, ripping through me as they froze my blood. “There’s no way he’s going to give it to you,” I whispered, hoping I was right.

His hand was around my neck in an instant, his fingers choking the gasp that would have escaped my throat. “You better hope, human, that you are wrong. Because without that stone you are worthless. Another disease-carrying parasite infecting the earth. A disease I intend to cure.”

I pul ed on his fingers with my hands, loosening his grip enough to say, “You want to drown the earth.”

He cocked his head. “So maybe the sandpiper does know a thing or two.”

He released me by shoving me back against the cave wal . The back of my head smacked the rock hard enough that spots of white flashed before my eyes. He spoke to the mermaid, “Come. We’l deliver the message to the prince’s guard.”

“How wil they know we have her and aren’t lying?” she asked.

The merman hesitated, considering. Slowly, the edges of his lips curled into a grin that twisted my stomach. “I guess we’l have to bring them proof.”

I waited on the thin ledge of rock; tired, bruised, and a hunk of hair shorter.

It could have been worse, though. I hadn’t been sure what to think when the merman removed a rusted knife from a braided-rope belt he wore at his waist. Despite the fact it had hurt like hel , when he began hacking into my hair I’d made it a point not to move or make a sound. I hadn’t wanted him to change his mind about what to cut.

It was cold in the cave and the fact that I was wet didn’t help. No matter where I scooted to, I couldn’t find an inch of dry ground to sit on. So I sat, shivering, wondering what the chances were that I’d make it out of this cave alive. My only regret was not being able to see Mom one last time—not getting the chance to tel her that I loved her.

When my brother died, a piece of Mom died too. Ever since that day she’d retreated inside of her head, living in her imaginary world while she navigated the real world on autopilot. That was also when the ring twisting started. If she lost another child . . . No. I wouldn’t think about that. Bastin would come for me.

After an hour, I stood and tried to walk around to bring some warmth to my muscles, but my tennis shoes had been lost during the swim to the cave and the rocks were jagged and cut into my feet. Defeated, I sat down again, and hugged my knees to my chest in the hopes of conserving body heat.

Maybe a half-hour later—it was getting harder to keep track of time—the water gurgled and a pair of onyx eyes appeared under a tangle of purple hair. They blinked once and disappeared back under the water. The mermaid, checking to make sure I was . . . what? They knew there was no way I could escape. So the only other reason to check on me would be to make sure I wasn’t . . . dead? The thought wedged a lump inside of my throat and my shivering turned violent. I had to find a way out of this.

I stood back up and careful y felt my way along the jagged wal until I stood directly under the crack. It was true what the merman said, its opening was smal , but then again, so was I. Maybe if I could find a way up there I could squeeze my way through. It was a gamble—but if Bastin didn’t come for me, then the mers were going to kil me—I had nothing to lose.

I ran my hands along the cave wal , inch by inch. Occasional y, my fingers ran across something squirmy and slimy, but I tried not to think about it.

Final y, I discovered a smal ledge. It cut into my fingers when I pul ed myself up, but I grit my teeth and grunted through the pain. Balancing on my knees, I searched the wal al over again. This time, I found a purchase large enough to grip with my hand and a recess just below where I was able to wedge my foot. I was closer to the crack now, maybe eight feet away? I lifted my foot and felt along the wal , my toes finding another ledge, narrower than the others, but it was my only option. I raised myself again, fingers scrambling for something to grasp when I came across a smal rock formation protruding from the wal .

Only three feet to go. And from this close, I could almost convince myself that I could fit through the crack. If I raised my arms and shimmied like a snake . . . Sure, the rock looked sharp and I’d get sliced pretty good, but that didn’t matter in the long run. Only living. That was the only thing that mattered.

I pul ed myself up another foot and searched for another ledge, rock, shelf,
anything
I could put my foot into. Stretching, almost to the point of losing my balance, I found a smal recess big enough for the front half of my foot but far enough away I’d practical y be doing the splits. If I could maneuver it, I would be close enough to the crack to pul my way out.

I tightened my grip on the wal and reached my foot across the gap until my toe brushed the ledge. I strained to close the distance but couldn’t reach. The only way to give myself the extra inch would be to loosen my grip on my hand hold—which is what I did.

My foot reached the rock, but my lack of balance kept me moving forward. I scrambled to reclaim my grip on the ledge I could no longer reach, and two of my fingernails were bent backwards as I clawed my hands into the rock, desperate to find something to cling to. But there was nothing.

I was air born. My flight of two seconds ended in an explosion of hurt. Landing on my already injured shoulder, pain shot like an electric jolt down the length of my body. At the same time my ankle throbbed a burning ache. I tried to rotate it but a breath-stealing twinge shot from it like a bottle-rocket on July Fourth. Not broken—but definitely sprained. The last of my aches came from my elbow. I touched it only to come away with warm, sticky fingers smel ing faintly of copper.

Blood.

The cave was dark but my vision swam in a rainbow of color. I wondered if I hit my head on the way down. The fact that the cave was spinning around me like a Tilt-A-Whirl suggested I had.

Great. As if I didn’t have enough on my plate.

Slowly, I pul ed myself into a sitting position, fighting the waves of nausea that squeezed my stomach. “You’re okay, Edith,” I whispered.

“Everything is going to be okay.” I had to stay calm and not panic.

And then, quite suddenly, the pounding of my pulse inside my head began to soften into the gentle hum of a lul aby. I was calm—tired, even. So extremely tired. I leaned my head against the rock wal and fought to keep the weariness threatening to pul me inside of myself. From far away, I heard a noise, and it wasn’t until after I shook my head a couple of times that the static noise buzzing between my ears softened enough to let me know I was hearing my own moans.

It was more than likely I had a concussion. I remembered from my last trip to the hospital, only two weeks ago, that the worst thing you can do is fal asleep.

So what was I going to do? I couldn’t just sit here and wait to die—and yet, I had no other options.

And then the water gurgled again. The same black eyes and nest of purple hair appeared. She lifted her head above the water and sniffed.

“Ugh.” She made a face. “You stink. What have you been doing?”

I stank? My fuzzy brain tried to make sense of her words. It must because of my blood . . . my blood! Without realizing it, she’d given me an idea.

“If you don’t stay put, human, I’l have to subdue you. Do you understand me?”

I dared not speak or risk having her detect the excitement in my voice. Instead, I nodded, praying she couldn’t read the plan formulating in my head.

That seemed to satisfy her, because a moment later she’d disappeared again. I waited five minutes, counting three hundred Mississippis under my breath until I was sure she was a good distance away. I only hoped it was enough.

Careful y, I inched my way on al fours to the edge of the rocky ledge. I knew from the swim up that the drop was severe, and in my condition, I doubted I had the strength left to tread water. The room tilted back and forth around me, as if the entire cave had been placed on a teeter-totter. Bile burned the back of my throat as I fought the urge to throw up. Inch by inch I crawled along the rock, chipping the fingernails that hadn’t been broken during my fal .

Almost there. One more inch.

And then my searching fingers grazed the surface of the water. I heaved myself to the edge of the rock, tearing my shirt and scraping my stomach in the process. But real y, at this point, what was a little more blood?