CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Fuck, fuck,fuck!”
Tristan’s shouts bounced off the walls, and cold water lapped at Cassandra’s waist as the dead Deathstalker’s memory fragments leaked out of her mind.
Before she’d come back to this wet, horrifying new reality, she was thinking about how crystal clear those fragments had been, despite thesupplicantbeing most assuredly dead. But perhaps only recently dead? Had embers of his life force still been burning within him? Or was it the boost of Tristan’s magic in her bloodstream that had helped?
She didn’t have much time to think on it as the frigid water crested her belly button.
Tristan pulled her into his arms. “We need to get out of here,” he said as the candle snuffed out and darkness enveloped the crypt.
Cassandra clung to him, unable to help at all with her weak mortal eyesight.
“Can you see anything?” she shouted over the gushing roar.
Before he could answer, a booming thud shook the chamber.
“Well, therewasthe barest amount of light from the moon outside, but it was just shut out completely by the statue closing over us,” Tristan grunted as he pushed through the torrent, struggling to keep Cassandra above the surface while dragging along his waterlogged feathers.
“I can swim, Tristan,” she offered. “Put me in the water, but don’t let go of my hand.”
Though she couldn’t see his face, she knew him well enough by now to imagine the struggle passing over his handsome features. Wanting to keep her safe within his arms, but knowing it would slow their progress. Grudgingly, he released her into the water, keeping a firm grip on her hand.
She paddled with her other arm, kicking her legs out and swimming through the rising tide, struggling to keep her chin above the surface as she choked on the salty liquid.
Tristan whispered a message into his palm and sent it gusting through the pitch-black corridor. Begging Hella for assistance, no doubt.
Tristan waded through the rushing waters, and Cassandra let out a high-pitched shriek as something brushed against her leg. She clung to Tristan’s arm as he reached behind her, then exhaled a disgusted sigh.
“One of the bodies,” he shuddered. “I’m not sure which one.”
They pushed down the long, winding corridor, the water level rising at an alarming pace. It was already up to Tristan’s shoulders, with barely a few feet before it reached the ceiling.
They reached the hexagonal chamber and Tristan turned frantically, struggling to identify the path they’d arrived from.
“Shit, fuck,shit!” He slapped at the surface of the water.
“Don’t see how the swearing is helping,” Cassandra muttered.
“Oh, it’s fucking helping.” He twisted his torso back and forth, scanning the openings.
Cassandra’s feet left the ground as she struggled to keep her head above water, clinging to Tristan’s hand. She trailed her other hand through the liquid, analyzing the flow.
“Straight ahead.” She hoped Tristan could sense which way she was pointing. “The water is flowing in that direction.”
Tristan squeezed her closer, then pulled them along in that direction. “Genius.”
Cassandra’s limbs were numbing, though she pushed alongside Tristan with every ounce of energy she could muster.
Her foot made contact with the staircase and she let out a cry of relief. Which swiftly curdled into terror as she knocked the crown of her head against the bottom of the statue.
“Tristan,” she called out, her voice wavering. “What are we going to do?”
Water rushed up the steps, waves crashing against her feet and calves. Tristan’s hands found her cheeks. “I will not let you die, Cassandra.”
He pounded his fists against the statue, but it didn’t budge. And though Tristan was supernaturally strong, he wasn’t capable of beating through cubic tons of marble.
He roared in frustration. “Nestle into my wings,” he growled, folding them around her in a makeshift cocoon against the stone wall. Even in the feathery space, the water was high enough to reach Cassandra’s chest. They had seconds until it fully consumed them.
