Undertow (Whyborne & Griffin #8.5)(18)

So close, the fog didn’t prevent me from making out her features. A sort of blank horror filled her eyes. “That must have been what the other chieftess was trying to tell me. They wiped out her city, and imprisoned her, murdered the god…”

“How do you know?”

She drew in a long, shaky breath. “The cabochon in the mask came from the body of a god. It’s how they sing to us in our dreams.” She touched her own forehead, as if to signal its placement. “Somehow, these land dwellers were able to kill a god and turn its bones into something to summon us against our will. I have to return to the sea and warn the dweller in the deeps. Warn everyone.”

“Yes.” I squeezed her hand. As much as I hated leaving Irene behind—assuming she was even still alive at this juncture—this was obviously so much bigger than a single life. Or a handful of lives, even. “Go.”

“Your home is on the way back to the river. I’ll walk with you.” She winced. “My legs hurt too much to go any faster on land.”

I wished I were large and strong, so that I might carry her. “Here. Lean on my arm.”

She did so. “They must be Fideles,” she said, her voice pitched low. “They spoke of Kansas, and my brother was certain the cult was in Fallow.”

Trepidation made my voice quiver. “D-didn’t you hear what they said about Dr. Whyborne?”

She nodded. “He succeeded. Good.”

Any relief I might have had concerning his safe return had become buried beneath fear and worry. “It’s just…” I wasn’t certain how to ask the questions bubbling in my mind. “They talked about him like he was some sort of monster.”

Persephone stopped and turned to me. We’d reached the sidewalk near the boarding house. Though we stood mostly in shadow, fog or fear had made us more careless than usual, and the muted light of the electric street lamps showed me her features.

“Perhaps we are,” she said. “My brother and I. Monsters together, to ketoi and humans alike.” Then she lifted her hand. Her fingers touched my cheek, skating slowly over my skin, until her thumb came to rest just at the corner of my lips.

My heart rate had started to settle after our run. Now it raced again, the pulse hot in my neck. Wordless longing gripped me. I wanted to turn my head just a little, suck her thumb into my mouth, run my tongue over the claw tipping it. I wanted her arm around my waist again—both arms, or her legs wrapped around me. Something. Anything.

She leaned closer. Her tendrils had settled into stillness around her, and in the dim light it might almost have been hair. Her pupils were wide, the brown irises reduced to a thin ring. The diffused light lent her skin a warm glow.

“What do you think, Maggie?” she whispered, so close I could feel her breath on my mouth. “Am I a monster?”

I parted my lips to give her the only answer I could.

The cold click of a gun’s hammer interrupted me. “Yes, you are,” Oliver said.





Chapter 7





We jerked apart, Persephone turning with a hiss, thrusting me behind her. Oliver stood in the street, his face set with cold fury. The gun in his hand pointed at Persephone.

“No!” I shouted. I tried to push Persephone out of the way, to put myself between her and Oliver, but she was far too strong. “Stop! Oliver, don’t!”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “Step away from it, Maggie.”

Persephone snarled. All her shark teeth were exposed, her tentacles drawn up to sting. “It’s all right,” I said. “Persephone, please, calm down. Oliver isn’t going to hurt me.”

She hesitated, but dropped her arm. Her tentacles relaxed slightly, but didn’t fall to her shoulders. I moved toward Oliver, my gaze locked on his face. “Oliver, put down the gun. You don’t understand.”

“No,” he said. “I’m afraid you’re the one who doesn’t understand. But you will.”

He fired the gun.

My scream drowned out Persephone’s cry. She crumpled to the ground, and blood from her torso turned the sidewalk red.

“No!” I tried to rush to her side, but Oliver’s hand locked on my wrist like an iron vise.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Stay away from that thing!”

I fought him, striking him about the head with my free hand. “Let me go; let me go.” I had to get to Persephone, had to help her. She was hurt and bleeding, and Oliver had shot her, and oh God this couldn’t be happening.

“Stop,” he ordered. When I continued to struggle, he struck me on the side of the head with the heavy butt of the gun.

Pain exploded through my skull, and stars flashed in my vision. I sagged, dazed, and he began to drag me stumbling down the sidewalk. I tried to turn and catch another glimpse of Persephone. Her side moved—didn’t it? Or was my blurred vision tricking me?

Dizziness overwhelmed me, the world spinning like a merry-go-round. I went to my knees, barely conscious of my dress ripping.

“I don’t know what you were doing in that creature’s company, but I will find out.” He tugged on my arm, sending a bolt of pain through my shoulder. “Get up.”

“I can’t.” Tears slicked my face. Everything seemed strangely distant, either because of my head wound or the shock of what had happened. “Why? Why did you do that? You hurt her, hurt my friend!”