Page 100 of The Summons


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“Blake, you came,” she whimpered.

He peered between the thick roots. Her radiant face smiled up at him. But only her face. The rest of her was beneath swamp water that reached her chin. How had Jo trapped her in this maze?

“I’m sinking…” she managed to say.

Blake was, too. The heavy silt had already swallowed up his boots. “How did you get in there? Is there no way to swim out?”

“Nay. She moved something heavy over the only outlet.”

“Hold on.” He tried to release her hand, but she gripped him so tight he could not.

“Let go, Emeline. Trust me.”

Even as he said the words, he wondered why she would. He’d given her no reason to ever trust him. Still, her hand slipped away.

The water was up to her nose.

Freeing his boots from the silt, he crawled up on the roots as far as he could and swung his cutlass at the thick vines, chopping, hacking. All the while taking care to not strike the dear lady. Within minutes that seemed like hours, he created a hole large enough to pull her through.

“Grab ahold, Emeline.” Laying chest down on the web of roots, he lowered both arms.

Dark water swallowed her face.

“Nay!” Blake reached for her, groping for a grip on her arms, gown, anything.

Finally, she gripped his hand. He pulled with all his might.

She wouldn’t budge.

Growling, he tugged harder, ignoring the bite of roots on his bare skin.

Her shoulders appeared. Then her other arm emerged from the water and clamped onto his hand. With a groan that would wake the dead, Blake pulled her from the swampy silt and yanked her through the hole, laying her atop the roots.

Their heavy breaths mingled in the humid air as she fell against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. “You came.”

“Of course, my little sugar bird.” Nudging her back, he brushed a spatter of mud from her cheek. Love and admiration spilled from her eyes as she continued gulping in air. What joy there was to be found in that one look. More joy than he’d thus experienced with all his power and wealth.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, wanted to tell her he was a changed man, wanted to ask if there was a chance he could be the hero she sought. But he hesitated, old insecurities and fears clambering over his heart.

“What do you say we get out of this swamp before the tide comes in?” he asked.

b

Josephine heaved a sigh of impatience, watching Della Morte’s imbecilic crew scour the jungle for the Ring.

“Whatever possessed you to toss it into such a thick web?” She shook her head and cast a look of disdain at the Jesuit idiot.

He fingered his beard. “I thought it would be easy to find. I hardly tossed it very far.” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “To the left, Gershown. Move to your left.”

Cursing him and his crew under her breath, Josephine stormed into the greenery herself. After several minutes of poking through sand, prying around leaves, being stabbed by thorns, and getting mud underneath her fingernails, she was ready to turn Della Morte and every one of his men into toads.

“It’s gone,” she announced as she emerged from the thick shrubbery, wiping her hands on her breeches.

Della Morte’s face flamed. “It cannot be! I will not give up.”

“I tell you, it is gone.” She speared him with a torrid gaze. Ifshecouldn’t find it with her powers, then it wasn’t there to be found. Besides, the frivolous artifact had proven useless in her hands, powerless, really. This way, Blake would not have it either.

“What do you know, you callow wench?”