I whip around, nearly face-planting in the process. Rhyland is immediately at my side, his arms wrapping around me. "What the hell, baby?" he growls, his eyes wide with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Did you not hear that creepy-ass voice just now?" my voice shaking.
Rhyland frowns, his grip on me tightening. "No, I didn't hear shit," his tone laced with worry. But then his eyes lock onto my crown, widening with realization. "The stone," he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's glowing. The Faerite..."
My head begins to buzz like a swarm of angry bees, and that's when it hits me. That slimy, tentacled fucker from the depths is trying to chat me up like we're old pals.
"It's that thing in the water."
"Sorry, sushi boy,"I respond,"I don't deal with creatures with more arms than a Hindu goddess. You can take your offer and shove it up your fishy ass."
Rhyland's eyes go wide, his jaw clenching with tension. "Really? What the hell is it saying?"
I nod, my stomach churning with fear and disgust. "It wants me to set it free in exchange for the key. Because that's totally a legit offer and not at all a trap."
The Faerite stone is like a damn cosmic telephone, letting me chat it up with every creature under the sun—or in this case, under the sea. But let me tell you, having some tentacled freak of nature whispering in your head is about as pleasant as a root canal without anesthesia.
I can feel the thing's hunger, desperation, and all-consuming need to break free from this underwater prison it's trapped in. It's like a leech, latching onto my mind and trying to suck me dry of any sympathy or goodwill.
Suddenly, the ship lurches beneath our feet, the creature's rage manifesting in a physical tantrum that nearly sends us sprawling. I cling to Rhyland, my heart pounding in my throat.
"Okay, okay," I gasp. "Maybe we could—I don't know—figure out how to spring Cthulhu from his watery cage."
Rhyland's grip on me tightens as he tries to make sense of my sudden change of heart. "How the fuck—?" But then his eyes widen, a glimmer of understanding dawning on his ruggedly handsome face. "Tell that thing we'll help it out, but only if it coughs up the key first. No key, no freedom, got it?"
I grin, "One order of blackmail. Coming right up."
I close my eyes, focusing on the slimy, slithering presence in my mind."Listen up, sushi breath,"my voice firm and unyielding."We'll help you out of your little predicament, but only if you hand over the key first. No negotiations, no exceptions. You want your freedom? Then you better pony up the goods."
Rhyland and I cling to each other, our hearts pounding in sync as we wait for the creature's next move. The silence stretches on, broken only by the creaking of the ancient ship and the distant sound of water lapping against the hull.
Suddenly, a splash echoes outside, followed by a loud thunk rattling the deck above our heads. We exchange a look of, "Oh shit," before scrambling up the stairs like our asses are on fire.
A brown leather box sits on the deck like a gift from the gods of bad decisions. I lunge for it, fumbling with the latch to open it.
And there it is—the skeleton key, its blue gem eyes glinting up at me like a beacon of hope in this underwater hellscape.
"I've given you what you desire; now give me mine,"the creature demands, its voice slithering through my mind like an eel through seaweed.
I turn to Rhyland, my eyes wide with triumph and terror. "It wants us to hold up our end of the bargain," my voice trembling slightly. "But how the hell are we supposed to free it? And more importantly, how the hell do we get out of here?"
"The valves," his voice low and urgent. "That has to be the way."
Rhyland marches over to the ship's side like a man on a mission, his jaw clenched tight. I watch, half-impressed and half-terrified, as he zeroes in on those valves as if they've personally offended him.
He raises his hands, and then, holy shit, those valves start moving. They're creaking and groaning like arthritic joints, spinning as if possessed by some demented poltergeist.
The whole scene is equal parts impressive and utterly terrifying. Because let's face it, when your vampire boyfriend starts playing ghostly puppeteer with ancient underwater plumbing, you know things are about to get really interesting. And by "interesting," I mean potentially catastrophic.
For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the creaking of the ancient ship and the thundering of my heart in my ears. But then, with a groan and a squeal that sounds like the gates of hell opening, all chaos breaks loose.
Water geysers out of the walls like fire hoses, the pipes bursting and spraying like a ruptured artery. The room fills with water so fast, the level rising higher and higher until the ship starts to bob like a cork on the ocean.
"Rhyland!" I shriek, my voice hitting octaves only dogs should hear as I stare up at the rocky ceiling looming over us like the world's worst game of 'Will It Crush Us?'
"Care to share which part of your brilliant master plan covered us becoming the world's most fucked-up submarine sandwich?"
Rhyland grins, that infuriating, cocky smirk that makes me want to kiss him and smack him at the same time. He swoops me up, and I squeal as he carries me below deck.
