Sucking in a breath, I toed my left foot up the wall and pushed against the slight protrusion, stretching my armout as high as I could until my hand brushed the jagged rock.
My stomach pitched as I shifted my weight, closing my fingers over the handhold as my foot slid down, struggling to find purchase.
My shoulder screamed in protest as I put too much weight on the joint. Then I heard a crack of rock breaking free, and I slammed face first into the wall.
As my cheek scraped against the rough rock, my entire weight sagged onto my opposite shoulder.
I groaned. I could feel my tenuous hold beginning to slip, and my foot had slid off the wall completely.
Panting, I groped along the rock for something —anything— to grab on to.
“Lyra . . .” Adriel warned from below.
But there was no assurance I could give them. My grip was slipping, and I was still several feet from the opening. Water was rushing up to greet me, and if I fell, that sinister whirlpool would suck me under.
But then I heard the rattle of a chain from above.
Looking up, I saw the sunken face of the vampire looming from the entrance to the chamber.
“Grab on,” he rasped, dangling a rusty iron chain. The same one, I suspected, that had been attached to the manacle around his ankle.
Panic and distrust swirled in my gut, but I had no choice but to accept his help. Wordlessly, I reached out and gripped the end of it, closing my eyes as I gave it my weight.
To my relief, the chain held, and I swung wildly for several seconds before my momentum slowed. Bracing my feet on the stone wall, I began to pull myself up.
A bony hand reached for me, but I ignored it, planting an elbow on the floor of the chamber and hauling myself inside.
“Lyra!” Adriel bellowed, his tone etched with concern.
“I’m all right!” I called. “Climb up.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than I remembered I was alone in the chamber with a ravenous vampire. My heart gave a jolt, and my hands groped uselessly for a stake before I remembered that I was armed only with my witchwood blade and the rusty swords.
Mouth dry, I peered through the gloom, locking eyes with my rescuer.
Up close, his skin bore a sickly, corpse-like pallor. His clothing, though fairly modern, hung in filthy tatters, the bones of his shoulders jutting through the fabric. His eyes were two dark pits, and his face . . .
Iknewthat face, though I still couldn’t place it.
Then my gaze drifted to the floor, and my stomach gave a violent heave. The vampire was leaning heavily on his left leg, because his right —
His right foot had been ripped from his body.
Tarry black blood oozed onto the stone floor of the chamber. The white of bone stood out starkly against the dark stain spreading up his tattered pant leg, and I realized he must have ripped off his own foot to free himself from the chain that bound him.
“Who are you?” I rasped, unable to tear my eyes away from the gruesome stump.
The vampire opened his mouth, but just then Sorsha’s head appeared, and I crouched to help her up.
A panicked whimper slipped from her when her gazelocked on the vampire, but I gave a small shake of my head and turned back to face him.
Something like sorrow flashed through the vampire’s eyes. Sorrow and . . . longing.
Swallowing down the itchy feeling in my throat, I glanced around the stone chamber, which must have once been a cell. The chain we’d climbed up was still attached to the wall opposite the opening that looked out on the raging sea below.
There were no bars to keep prisoners in, but —
I blinked.
