Witches & Werewolves: A Sacred Oath (18 page)

Feeling confident, I decide to own this moment. I do my best to make my eyes smolder and look sultry.

Ethan gulps hard, speechless.
 

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” I ask.

“Um. You’ve got a…”

“A what?”

 
That’s when I see it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it’s evil black wings. It’s red abdomen of hate. It’s stinger of fury. It’s thorax of tyranny.
 
A depraved red wasp flutters on my shoulder.
 

I freak out.

The echo of my shrieking scream bounces off the stone walls and craggy peaks. I leap from my perch, spinning and flailing. The black wings of death buzz so close it vibrates my eardrum. I dodge and duck, finally plunging into the water to escape.

Ethan is laughing his ass off.

I hide with my eyes just barely above the surface of the water, darting around looking for the insidious creature.

“It probably wasn’t going to sting you,” Ethan says.

“I don’t care. I didn’t give him permission to touch me.”

“You know, wasps serve a very important ecological function,” he says.

“And they can keep on serving that function as long as they don’t do it near me.”
 

“You think a wasp sting hurts? Try getting bit by a vampire.”

“Vampire bites are fatal to werewolves, right?”

 
Ethan lowers his head, and his tone grows somber. “Fatal. And excruciating. It’s a horrible way to die. I don’t know what’s worse—getting bit, or watching someone you care about wither away in agony.” His face looks tortured as he recalls the memory.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever get fooled by their charm. They serve no ecological function,” he says.

“What happened?”

Ethan’s eyes grow sullen.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry,” I say.

“My parents were killed by vampires.”
 

“I’m so sorry.”

“The way you feel about those wasps… multiply that by a million
 
That’s how much I hate vampires.” Ethan’s eyes narrow, and his face tightens.

I know exactly how he feels. The pain, the grief, the anger of losing a loved one. It’s never easy. But when someone is ripped away from you too soon, it’s horrifying. You realize how fragile life is. Even for supernatural beings. Nothing lasts forever. Everything is changing. Everything is decaying.
 

Ethan and I tread water, circling each other. I want to reach out to him. To hold him. To let him know he’s not alone. Like a drifting satellite pulled out of orbit, I gravitate toward him. Closer and closer with each rotation. Collision is imminent.

T minus nine seconds.
 

Eight.

Seven.

The sun glimmers off the water, reflecting upon his face.

T minus six seconds.

Our eyes lock onto one another.
 

Five.

Four.

My heart pulses. My stomach flutters.

Three.

Two.

My skin flush with excitement.

One.

Houston, we have touchdown.

I cling my arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around me. We tread water, face to face. Droplets of water glisten across his tan face, dripping down his sculpted cheeks. My eyes flare into his. Those full lips enticing me closer. My heart pounding so hard, I know he can feel it. I melt into his muscular body.

Seconds tick by like hours.
 

I lean in to press my lips against his, but he pushes me away. Now there is an ocean between us. He glides to the other end of the well. My face blooms red with embarrassment.
 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he says.
 

“Please, tell me you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he chuckles.

“So, what part of this equation am I missing?”

“It’s dangerous,” he says.

“You’re not getting that far today. It’s just a kiss.”

“You need to understand, extreme emotions can trigger a transformation. Love, anger, fear, sadness, joy.”

“Love?”

“Lust,” he says, snarking back.
 

I frown.
 

“So, you’re in lust with me, and you feel like you won’t be able to control yourself, and you’ll turn into a raging beast?”

“More or less,” he says.

“From one kiss?”

“It’s a gateway drug. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“My lips are a gateway drug? Hmm, I like that.” I swim closer to him. “Why do you care what happens to me if you’re just in lust?” I ask, taunting him.
 

He swims away.

“Surely, you’ve had a girlfriend before?” I ask.

“Surely.”

“And you didn’t hurt her, did you?”

“She wasn’t like you.”

“And what am I like?” I swim closer. He doesn’t swim away.
 

“Indescribable.”

“Try,” I smile.

Ethan thinks about this for a moment, grinning back at me. “Should I compare you to the brightness of the sun? The endlessness of time? The infinity of space? How can one compare the incomparable?”

“That sounds like something more than lust,” I whisper, drawing closer to him.

Ethan’s eyes sparkle in the sunlight.

I sling my arms around him, rising out of the water, taking control. “Shut up and kiss me,” I say, moving in for the kill. I can almost taste his full lips on mine, when a ferocious growls stops me.
 

This is my moment, and its ruined. I want nothing more than to feel his soft, plush lips against mine. To ravage his face and neck with delicate kisses. I want to feel the electric spark between our lips, the tingling in my body, the rush of endorphins. Synapses exploding, neurotransmitters flooded with dopamine and oxytocin. I don’t care if love is an illusion, the product of neurochemistry. A biologic chain of events. What I feel is real. And I want to feel his kiss. Right now.
 

But these wolves are messing everything up.
 

They’ve surrounded the well, crouched on the bank, growling and snapping. It’s not just four wolves anymore. It’s dozens. Ethan tries to shield me behind him, but they’re everywhere. Ethan’s body turns rigid like stone, scowling at the beasts. There are too many for even him to fight off. My heart races as I cling to him.
 

“Take a deep breath and hang on,” he says.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

 
I inhale a huge breath of air, and my rib cage expands to the point just shy of bursting. Ethan dives down, pulling me along with him. I clasp my arms around him, and his powerful arms pull us a deeper into the obsidian depths. The pressure builds the deeper we go, squeezing my eardrums to the point of pain. The surface slips away, and the muted growls of the wolves dissolve.

 
Ethan pulls and kicks as hard as he can, taking us into an underwater passageway. The sunlight from the surface fades within a few strokes, and the water grows dark. I glance back to the mouth of the passage, dim shafts of light shimmer—the opening growing smaller. Ahead of us, the water is pitch black. Soon, we are enveloped completely by darkness.

The darkness and the inability to breathe are inducing panic. I have no idea where we are, or where were going. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get there. My lungs are already screaming for me to take a breath. I don’t know if we’re even halfway yet. I don’t know how Ethan can even see where were going. I feel him veer to the left, then to the right. He takes a series of turns, and my sense of direction is gone again, just like it was driving here—only then, I could breathe.

 
If we weren’t underwater, I’m sure I would be sweating. My heart is pounding, my stomach is turning in knots. I keep telling myself not to panic. My inner self doesn’t seem to be listening.

 
My lungs are on fire. They’re not just screaming for air, they’re demanding it. With a bullhorn to my ear, my lungs are yelling breathe now, or we’re going on strike.

CHAPTER 23

CAVE DIVING IS one of the most dangerous things you can do. They say never to swim into an underwater cave so far that you can’t see daylight. Amateur divers get in trouble all the time when they swim into a cave, even with a flashlight. In the wrong hands, a flashlight can kill.
 

Any number of things can go wrong. The flashlight could run out of batteries. The diver could out swim their oxygen capacity, and by the time they turn back, there isn’t enough oxygen left to get out of the cave. Most divers don’t realize that they are kicking up fine deposits of sediment that rest on the bottom, clouding the water behind them. When they turn around to swim back, visibility in the water is near zero. These unlucky divers often drown trying to find their way out of the maze of caves.

 
Knowing all of these facts does nothing to soothe my nerves. In fact, quite the opposite. Right now, I’m wishing I had never watched that show on TV about cave diving. Ethan swims hard through the darkness. I hold on tight, but my strength is fading and my head grows light.

 
I know exactly what’s happening in my body thanks to that show.
 
My body is slowly building up carbon dioxide in my bloodstream. The buildup will cause a strange mix of disorientation and euphoria. I will be less and less able to process the world around me. Less and less able to function. To power my muscles. To make rational decisions. Not to mention the agonizing feeling of not being able to breathe. It will be loads of fun.

Just like in my nightmares, I will reach a point where my brain forces my body to take a breath. It’s called the breakpoint. Human beings are incapable of voluntarily stopping their breath. Sure, you can hold it for a long time, but eventually you will inhale, like it or not.
 

With years of practice, free divers can extend the breakpoint by increasing lung capacity, and by hyperventilating. The hyperventilating over oxygenates the blood, prolonging the onset of the breakpoint. But it’s unavoidable. Everyone has a breakpoint. From there, it’s all downhill. If you reach the breakpoint, rest assured, your death certificate will list drowning as the cause.

If my nightmares are any indication, my breakpoint is imminent. An overload of carbon dioxide in the bloodstream will cause your vision to dim as you lose consciousness. But since it’s pitch black down here, I have no idea if my vision is dimming or not. I cling on to Ethan with all of my might, but I feel my grip slipping.
 

My thoughts are harder to form. I feel that odd sense of extreme discomfort, blended with a lightheaded high. What few, coherent thoughts I can muster are devastating. I’m sure Ethan knows where he’s going. But what if my extra weight and drag are slowing him down? What if he didn’t factor this in to his decision to plummet us into the darkness?

Breakpoint is near. I want to take a deep gasp. I know the moment is coming. The sensation is indescribable.
 

So, this is it? This is how I’m going to die. I’m going to drown here at the bottom of Devils Pit. It all seems so silly. Everything. Every little worry and fear. About stuff that really didn’t matter. All that time wasted. What was the point of it all? For the first time in my life, I have perspective. It’s a shame that perspective is going to be lost, down here, in the darkness.

 
I can feel it. My body is about to involuntarily breathe. Even though I don’t want it to. My conscious mind says hold on. Just a few more seconds. My involuntary mind says no.

Just as the strength leaves my arms, and my consciousness fades, I see a singular shaft of light. It’s enough to give me hope. I cling to Ethan tighter. He swims hard toward the warbling shaft of light in the water.

A few more strokes and we’ve cleared the mouth of the passageway, and I can see the shimmering surface above. Ethan pulls with all his might. It’s a valiant attempt, but it’s not enough.

Breakpoint.

I gasp for air, but a rush of water floods my lungs. My final thought is one of disbelief. This wasn’t how I was supposed to die.

CHAPTER 24

ETHAN PRESSES HIS full lips to mine, pinches my nostrils shut, and breathes a series of rescue breaths into my lungs. I got my kiss after all, but not exactly how I planned. Then he starts the chest compressions.
 

Fluid spews from my lungs and I huddle over, coughing in violent spasms. I gasp for air, and the remaining fluid gurgles and rattles with each inhalation, like a bad case of pneumonia. After a few moments of hacking, I’ve expelled most of the water from my lungs. My ribs and diaphragm are sore from coughing, and my throat is raw. My head is killing me, and I feel the throbbing pulse in my temples.