The Blood Spell (Ravenspire, #4)(76)

He headed south, skirting the city proper, until he’d reached the de la Cour farmhouse. Careful to stay on the edges of the property, where Jacinthe and Halette wouldn’t be able to see him, he made his way to the cliff that overlooked the sea.

The water seemed as restless as he was—rocking in its berth, its waves choppy, its current strong. A storm was coming. The sky was a thin gray-blue, the horizon darkening with clouds, though the storm itself wouldn’t break over land for another hour or more.

It was a terrible time to swim out to the shadowy line that lurked beneath the water. The current could change at any moment. The tide could snatch an unwary swimmer and drag him beneath the waves, holding him prisoner until he stopped struggling.

Kellan couldn’t wait to face it.

Stripping off his shoes, belt, and tunic, he rolled his pants up above his knees, aimed at the deepest section of the water, and dove.

The water was a slap of coolness against his skin as he broke the surface. Quickly pulling out of the dive, he scraped his stomach along the bottom of the sea and then shot toward the open waters where the shelf fell away and the shadow loomed.

He’d been right. This was a terrible time to be in the water. The current snatched him, propelling him toward his destination with terrifying speed. He rode it for a moment, feeling the numbness inside disintegrate before the rush of danger. When the land beneath him fell away, and the shadow stretched as far as he could see, he began kicking. Fighting. Struggling toward the surface while the water did its best to swallow him whole.

He broke free, his mouth clearing the water so he could drag in a much-needed breath before the current slammed into him, dragging him under again.

For an instant, he drifted with it. Spinning into the shadow, feeling the slap of the rubbery sea vines that grew beneath the waves, his chest constricting as his air began to run out.

How long had his father held his breath?

Two minutes? Three?

Or had he fought so hard to get back to the surface that he’d used up his air before he even realized he was drowning?

Something brushed against his back, and he kicked hard, turning sharply in time to see a small hand latch onto the waistband of his pants and pull.

He lifted his face and the rush of danger flowing through his veins froze into stone-cold panic.

Blue was caught in the shadow too. Her body was buffeted by the current as she kicked and struggled. Her cheeks bulged with her last breath.

He grabbed her hand and fought for the surface with every bit of strength he had. Gone was the glorious blaze of life that burned away the numbness. In its place was absolute terror.

He couldn’t watch another person he cared about drown.

The current was colder than the rest of the water. It dragged against him, its grip relentless, but Kellan was relentless too. He kicked, shoved at the water with his free arm, and begged Blue with his eyes to hold on. Keep her breath locked inside where it would hold the water at bay. She kicked right alongside him, her expression fierce. Her glare could shatter glass, and he prayed that determination kept her fighting as the current pulled them farther from the safety of land.

His lungs burned, his chest ached, and panic was lightning in his veins.

He wasn’t going to lose Blue to the insatiable appetite of the sea. If that meant he pushed her to safety while the current snatched him away, he was prepared to do it.

With a final kick, he broke the surface, pulling Blue up with him. The second her face cleared the water, she sucked in a deep breath, wrapped her free arm around his chest so that she was snug against his back, and started swimming toward the shore.

He was far too big for her to pull, but he kicked as hard as he could, propelling both of them out of the shadow and over the shelf of land where the waves were still choppy, but the water no longer felt as if it was tearing their bodies apart.

When they reached the shore, he stood, tried to help Blue out of the water, and then simply fell to his knees in the sand, as his legs refused to hold him.

Blue struggled to her feet, her shirt and trousers clinging to her body, her eyes blazing. She stumbled to his side and poked a finger in his chest. Hard.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

“Me?” He pushed her finger aside and wondered if he had the strength to stand yet. “What do you think you’re doing? You could’ve been killed!”

Hang it all, he was shaking. Her hand was so small. What if he’d lost his grip?

He closed his eyes against the image of Blue spinning away into the depths of the shadow, swallowed up by the arms of the uncaring sea. They flew open again when she tapped him smartly on the shoulder.

“Are you even listening to me at all? This is serious, Kellan.”

He glared. “This is absolutely serious. What were you thinking going out that far in the water with a storm coming in? Do you want to drown?”

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and he sank back onto the sand. “You want to drown, don’t you? Pierre’s death, Dinah in your home, all of it felt overwhelming, and you thought you’d just swim out and never come back. Stars, Blue, you could’ve just come to me. To Nessa. You’re family. We don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not the one who was trying to drown.” She sat down on the sand beside him, her expression serious, and he frowned.

“Then what were you doing swimming so far out on a day like this?”