Wait.No.Her voice doesn’t carry this deep. Dark magic. That’s what this is. It’s trying to distract me from getting the piece. No freaking way will it fool me this time.
I propel my body toward the curved wall and grip the rough edges of a stone, halting my brusque ascent, then rifle blindly for the little plastic ball fluttering at the back of my jacket. My feet and legs rise, buoying me up. I dig my fingertips into the scraggly space between the rocks, slashing my other hand through the water like a clock pendulum in search of the dump valve. The second my palm closes around it, I tug hard, releasing the air in one fell swoop.
My feet and legs arch back down. The line tied around my waist dangles in the dark pit like a child’s skipping rope. I sink and sink. The stress is starting to take a toll on me. A headache blooms at my temples and stretches over my forehead. I’m hot in the dive suit. My mouth is dry.
The darkness of the well suddenly seems darker. I look up and see Cadence floating downward. She’s in her fur-lined boots and fluffy silver jacket. Tendrils of her hair float around her face like kelp, her pompom flutters at the top of her knit hat.
Every molecule inside me is urging me to take her into my arms and speed back up to the surface.
It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not her.I repeat the mantra over and over in my head, grinding my teeth over the rubber mouthpiece.
She sinks deeper, and her back bumps my shoulder, driving the soles of my feet against the pile of chucked human wishes. Her eyes are closed, and she’s pale as death, the outline of her lips tinged blue. I’m waiting for her to spring at me. For her to try to choke me or rip off my mask or anything a monster would do.
I press myself against the side of the well as she lands on the mound of coins. One lone bubble escapes from her nostril.
I step forward. She doesn’t move.
What if it really is Cadence?
It can’t be.
The others were with her. They wouldn’t have let her dive in.
Unless the dark magic somehow propelled her inside.
Fuck.
I pass my hand over my neoprene hood, trying to make up my mind.
What if it’s really her?
Fuck fuck fuck.
I can’t just let her die.
Fumbling about with the tubes and gauges, I find the extra regulator hooked onto my jacket and shove it between her lips. She’s still unresponsive.
Panic twists my gut and squeezes my lungs.Come on, Cadence. Don’t die. Please don’t die.
I slide one arm under her knees and the other under her neck, and then, hugging her to me, I pump a little air into my BCD and scissor-kick to the top. As we inch higher, she leans closer, her head lolling against my chest, and lays her hand on the back of my neck.
I close my eyes for a second, relieved she’s still alive. My ears pop, and then static bursts into my ears, and Cadence’s voice hits me loud and clear and strong. “She looked once more at the prince, hurled herself over the bulwarks into the sea, and felt her body dissolve into foam.”
My eyes snap open and Cadence—the one in my arms—removes the regulator from her lips and asks, “Did you like my story?”
Her story? Was I not hearing her through the earphones?
“You’re my hero, you know?”
Her words hit me square in the heart. No one’s ever called me their hero.
“I told you I saw my father in the well, but it was you, Slate. You’re who I saw.”
I blink at her. Never has Cadence looked this beautiful. Like a siren . . .
Wait.
Sirens aren’t good.
