Splintered (Splintered, #1)(40)
The boat buckles and cracks. In moments, the clam sinks into the ocean, leaving only foam and floating debris behind. Waves ripple around the wreckage, an eerily serene ending to such a violent scene.
Jeb holds my wrist and the backpack with one hand while using his other arm in a one-sided breast stroke to propel us toward the black beach.
Something pulls me downward.
I pump my legs until my calves cramp, trying to stay afloat. It’s no use. I let go of Jeb, afraid to pull him down with me.
Swept underwater, I search for what’s anchoring me, terrified a sea creature is to blame, yet there’s nothing there. The weight seems to be centered at my waist, but I’m descending too fast to find it. I flail, arms and legs straining against the downward momentum. My lungs shriek for oxygen.
Jeb appears above me. The backpack descends behind him into the dark depths. I snap my legs and hands into action, clawing at the water. Jeb tries to pull me up by gripping under my arms. I jerk away, fighting him. Or maybe I’m fighting myself. Fighting my fear …
His expression is resolute as he grabs me. He refuses to give up, and that scares me more than anything. I shake my head.
Save yourself! my eyes tell him, but he’s too stubborn to listen.
I want to tell him I’m sorry I dragged him into this. Instead, empty bubbles swirl between us.
A hot and heavy ache pushes at my chest. I bat at the water, trying to break through somehow, to make it disappear. My tears mix with Alice’s and every thought blackens at the edges. Jeb’s still pulling on me, but it’s hopeless—we keep sinking.
As I’m about to surrender to unconsciousness, it dawns on me that the weight is coming from my skirt pocket. Numb, I pull out the sponge I picked up at the bottom of the rabbit hole.
What was once the size of a bite of cheese is now as big as a golf ball and growing. It glides down toward the bottom of the ocean, dragging the water with it, creating a whirlpool.
I’m free.
Holding on to each other, Jeb and I surface long enough to fill our lungs before the suction of the funnel captures us. The sponge is the size of a grapefruit now, and I can see the bottom of the ocean far beneath us.
I scream, clutching Jeb for dear life.
My eyes squeeze shut as we slam into something solid.
“Al,” Jeb says, and that’s when I notice I can breathe.
I gasp hungrily for air, open my eyes, and blink away the wetness. The ocean is gone. Flattened sea grass and piles of wet sand surround us. Puddles of water glimmer in places, reflecting the sun. In the distance, I spot our backpack. The island’s black sands tower like a cliff above us—a climb we can’t possibly make.
A few yards away, among the debris, the giant clam sits next to a mossy, decomposing trunk and smacks its bloody lips. I guess the octobenus ended up finding his artisan friend again, after all.
A breeze stirs, scented with fish and salt. I expect the sponge to be the size of a mountain. But there it is, next to my soggy boots, no bigger than a basketball. I pick it up. Hard to fathom that an entire ocean is contained inside.
Jeb helps me stand, and I drop the sponge. It lands with a splat.
Even though I’m weak and battered, a sense of accomplishment rushes through me. “We did it,” I mumble, hardly able to grasp the meaning of the words. “We drained the ocean. Just like the flowers wanted us to.”
“You did it,” he answers. He pushes hair from my brow. “And you almost drowned in the process.” Before I can respond, his warm, soft mouth touches my forehead, my temple, and then my jaw. Each time, his labret gently grazes my skin. He stalls at my jawline and bends to gather me close for a hug, nose tucked against my neck. “Never scare me like that again.”
It doesn’t matter that we’re wet; heat radiates through our sopping clothes. I weave my gloves through his hair. “You came back for me.”
He nuzzles closer in the crook of my jaw, and a powerful wave of emotion pulses through him. “I’ll always come back for you, Al.”
A tiny knock of caution drums in my chest, reminding me of Taelor, of Jeb’s determination to go to London without me to be alone with her. But adrenaline surges even stronger. I touch his ear with my lips, tasting Alice’s leftover tears on his skin. “Thank you.”
He tightens his arms. His nose roots through the hair at my nape, like he’s losing himself in the tangles. Our heartbeats thunder between us. Nervous shivers assault me until my limbs quake.
“Jeb,” I whisper. He mutters something indecipherable, and my trembling hands clutch his neck.
A groan escapes his throat. I catch my breath as he clenches my hair in his fingers and draws back, eyes intense. He’s about to lean into me when a cacophony of clicks and clatters interrupts.
We turn in circles. Thousands upon thousands of clams tunnel out from the sand. I clutch Jeb’s hand, worried they’re going to attack us for destroying their home. Instead, high-pitched cheers break loose.
Glancing over Jeb’s shoulder, I gape. “Behind you.”
Beside the clifflike wall, tons of shells pile one on top of another—tumbling in and out, over and over—to form a living escalator.
“We defeated their enemy,” I whisper. “They want to help us.”
Jeb doesn’t hesitate. He takes my hand and leads me toward the ascending steps, snagging the backpack on the way. Together, we ride toward the sparkling black sands of the island.