I freeze.
The water goes still, too still.
Then, in a blur, something erupts out of the lake, all fins and claws and a mouth too wide for its face. It grabs her around the waist and pulls her under.
She screams, but only once. The water closes over her, and then she’s gone.
“Cassius!” I scream as I run, tearing across the rocks, and throw myself in without thinking.
The water is cold and thick, full of silt and weeds. I open my eyes and see nothing but green and black. I kick, hard, down, and reach out, but there’s nothing. No Alette, no monster, just bubbles and the distant shimmer of the surface.
I surface, gasping, reminding myself that even immortals can die if they’re stupid. On shore, Sylvian and Oberon are already running, Cassius behind them, eyes wide.
Oberon shouts, “Alette! Alette!”
“She’s gone. Something took her.” I dive down again, searching for her, then come back to the surface feeling desperate.
Cassius reaches the shore. “Get out of the water! It’s a merman.” He says it like a curse. “He’ll just drag you under and drown you.”
I freeze.That means… I can’t save her.
But Cassius can. He’s a water fae. He can breathe in the water. He can save her. He’s got to save her!
Sylvian asks, “Can you get her back?”
Cassius’s eyes go flat, cold. “I won’t come back without her, but you have to know there’s a chance I may not come back at all.”
I climb out of the lake as Cassius climbs in, staring at him, desperation swallowing my heart. “Please.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ll bring her back.” Then, he dives in, silent as a ghost.
The rest of us just stand there, staring at the place where Alette vanished.
Minutes pass.
Oberon paces. Sylvian sits on a rock, head in his hands. I stare at the water, willing it to give her back.
It doesn’t.
Not yet.
But I’m not leaving until it does.
None of us are.
13
Alette
It doesn’t feel real at first.
One second I’m standing in the shallows, washing myself and shivering in my underwear, the water glassy and harmless around my knees. I was thinking about how cold it is, about how I could go just a little deeper and dunk my whole head, and maybe scrub away the taste of the worm’s tunnel for good. The next, something grabs me so hard I think it’ll snap my bones, and the world turns upside down.
I don’t even scream. There’s no time. I barely get a breath before I’m yanked under, headfirst, arms pinwheeling, and then the water closes over me like a lid.
It’s so cold it feels like burning.
There’s nothing but blue and black and the rush of bubbles. I try to twist, to kick free, but the hand around my ankle—no, not a hand, it’s something else, something rough and scaled—drags me deeper, spinning me, until up and down switch places. My lungs lock up. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from swallowing water.
