I twirled my wrists, flexing the joints. The thin scabs on my knuckles caught a hint of the moonlight, my hands still raw from many painful, failed attempts at trying to break and enter the Santa Cruz Lighthouse—a place that supposedly belonged to the Angel of Water and bridged Empyrea with Mortal Earth. If I couldn’t even get in there, how the hell was I supposed to get in here?
A chill raked over my spine. “What are you going to do?”
He plopped a candy in his mouth. “Stand guard and eat jawbreakers.”
A draft tunneled through, nipping at our clothes, its low howl echoing off the walls of the cave.
Words unsteady as my legs, I whispered, “Is it true? What the Wizard said? That it’s”—my jaw clamped down—“haunted?”
“I’ve only made it this far.” Nemuik gripped the sides of his hood, flopping it back over his head. “And ’tis not in yer best interest to hear what happened to te souls who were ordered to come ’ere and fetch te Pearl.”
Fear twisted my stomach. I reached inward for a thread of elemental power—my Source. It skittered deeper, a quiet passenger, watching, waiting, lurking in the silence.
“Ye got a plan?” His gaze remained fixed on the entrance.
I fidgeted with the cuff of my hoodie, pulling it up my arm. The orange hues of the butterfly brightened against my skin as I brushed my thumb over the thin, raised lines. Pain rippled in its wake; I was hit with a vision so hard, my hand shot out and gripped the closest sturdy thing in front of me—which happened to be Nemuik’s shoulder.
There: in a pool, a grotto, near the outer chamber, lay the Pearl of Truth. Wedged in a crevice, partially submerged beneath the silt and sand, shimmering like a tiny moon. Shadows crept in, calling from darker corners, until they whisked away the image of my target.
From what I gleaned, the cave was empty.
Nemuik cleared his throat. “Ye good?”
“Yes,” I said, springing my hand back, those fingers going straight to my mouth. “Any other last-minute advice?”
“Don’t die.”
Rolling my eyes, I spat out a sliver of fingernail. “I’ll try to remember that one.”
I couldn’t make any promises, though.
Carefully, I lowered myself down the craggy ledge to yet another level of tide pools, my shoes skidding on the algae, slipping into puddles deep enough to wade in.
“Ok, Nephilim?” Nemuik’s voice was muffled by the salty gusts of wind, and when I glanced back, he was bracing himself against it, hands in his pockets, shoulders high. “Good luck.”
Water sprayed my sides, the bitter cold of it stinging my cheeks. The swell crashed onto the limpet-covered surface I was standing on, dousing my ankles.
The wind picked up as I treaded farther from the bluffs—closer to the cave. The tug of my tattoo a siren song, pulling me onwards, until I reached a jutting point in the natural bridge.
A cord of intuition banded around my chest. From here, I could make out the notches carved into the stone above the gaping hole of the sea cave’s entrance: the runes that made up the spelled boundary.
Most of the swirling, intricate marks, I couldn’t place. But there was one in the middle I’d recognize anywhere: the teardrop with the two four-pointed stars lining the upper lefthand corner. The Empyrean symbol for water.
My heart leapt and my tattoo pulsed, adrenaline prickling my veins. Instinctively, my hand crept to my collarbone, grasping air instead of my necklace that bore the same symbol.
None speaks to te water like ye do, the Wizard had said. He knew about this. And because it was a symbol that represented the Watchers—the angels—perhaps that was why all those other poor creatures had met their end trying to retrieve the Pearl.
Another breaker smashed into the point, almost knocking me off my feet.
I centered myself, brushing off the stir of hope and focusing on how the hell I was going to get in. The surf was tricky here. It made the entire cave inaccessible, really. But I guessed that was why it was the perfect hiding spot for a magical artifact.
The ocean pummeled every surface, water sloshing against the reef, the current stealing any unanchored object in its path. It wasn’t worth the risk of closing my eyes and trying to channel my Source again when one rogue wave had the strength to sweep me out to sea.
I’d known I was going to get a little wet, but this…
I was going to have to jump. Jump, and bodysurf in.
There literally was no other option.
