In Deep

by Bailey Bradford

  Ninfa began to chant.

  Another living nightmare arose from the water. It had teeth like a great white, and dozens of white eyes like the things on the beach.

  Lightning shot across the sky and struck the beach where the waves were lingering at the shore. The wind whipped harder, lashing out, but no thunder sounded from above.

  The ground quaked under his feet, and Draven tore his gaze from the beasts to the sand under his feet. It shifted and he half-expected to be swallowed up, but no gaping holes appeared.

  Draven hated the fear that pummeled his chest. Anger washed it away, and he raised his head, glaring at the monsters as he shouted, “What the hells do you want from me?”

  He wasn’t certain if anyone heard the laughter besides him. “Andres! Show yourself, you fucking coward!” Draven took a step toward the water.

  The first beast roared and lunged at him. It wasn’t close enough to reach him—he hoped—but not running away was difficult. Draven’s instincts screamed at him that he was in danger. He ignored them and took another step, then a third. “Andres!”

  Riveen moved to stand beside him. “This is crazy. This is crazy. How—?”

  The water churned, and the two beasts scurried back into its depths.

  “Uh oh. If something is coming that scared those two off…” Riveen gripped Draven’s arm. “I can’t—”

  He gasped, as did Draven, when a wave rose, towering so high it looked like it blended into the dark sky above.

  Draven saw things in that wave—hate, and anger, images of Andres, and his death.

  And his brother, Riveen, watching over the sharks as Andres was torn to pieces, as his blood turned the ocean water red around him.

  “Rive—” Draven began, fear burning cold in his gut. He got no further before the wave lashed out. Draven turned and grabbed at Riveen, whose eyes were wide and nearly bulging, and his mouth open as he tried to speak.

  The wave snatched him out of Draven’s grasp. “Riveen!” Draven slapped at air as his brother was taken into the ocean.

  “No!” Draven shouted, his throat burning as fear tore through him. “No!” He ran, the wind battering him back a step despite his attempt to move forward. “Andres! You fucking bastard, fight me!”

  He couldn’t see Riveen in the wave, didn’t know if he was alive or dead, hurting or scared— “Andres!”

  “He’s not going to give in that easy,” Dariel bellowed. “He wants to hurt you!”

  “Argh!” Draven pushed against the wind. Grains of sand pummeled him, stinging where they cut his face, hands and legs.

  Ninfa raised her hands, and Draven caught a glimpse of her eyes glowing black, the color seeming to leach into the air around her. The words she spoke were ones he didn’t recognize, a language he didn’t know. Bolts of blue and black shot from her fingertips, hitting the wave and setting off sparks of gold and green as a great wailing sound poured from the wave.

  It split in two, and Riveen fell into the churning ocean.

  Draven and Dariel surged forward when the wind ebbed for a moment.

  The water was cold, not like the Gulf of Mexico had ever been. Chills raced over Draven as he waded in. Slimy tendrils of something wrapped around his ankles. Thorns or teeth or claws hooked into his skin.

  Draven jerked one foot free, then the other, but every step he took only led to another attack by whatever was under the water.

  Dariel screamed. “No!”

  Draven and several cousins grabbed at Dariel as he began to sink.

  On the beach behind him, a great light shone, bright yet dark. Its rays hit the sky, and a great BOOM ripped through the other chaotic sounds. Dozens of explosions occurred overhead. Red, white and yellow balls shot out and burst, the colors raining down on the ocean like someone had upturned a glitter container.

  Someone managed to pull Dariel up before he sank past his chest. Draven gasped at the wounds on his cousin. There had to be a hundred cuts, gashes—bites, he didn’t know what they were, but Dariel was bleeding, and his eyes were open yet unfocused. For one horrible second, he thought Dariel was dead, then Dariel shrieked at being hoisted up onto another cousin’s shoulder.

  Draven’s ankles were burning. Whatever had been attacking him was still there. He saw Riveen’s body bob on a wave and his heart plummeted. “Riveen!”

  Then Riveen was gone as the wave pulled him under.

  Beside Draven, his cousin Elric screamed and the panicked attempt to save him from being sucked under began.

  “Go,” Valeria shouted at him. “Go get Riveen!”

  Draven jerked one foot loose, then the tendrils dragged across his other ankle, tearing at it, before suddenly disappearing. Draven took a deep breath, then dove into the coming wave, praying to whatever deities existed to save Titus, Riveen and their cousins.

  As soon as Draven went under, he shifted. He could maneuver through the rough water easier as a manta ray. He saw the spiked tendrils that had harmed him, saw glowing white eyes and fangs, monsters he couldn’t comprehend or ever forget.

  But they didn’t touch him, despite their attempts to do so. A thin layer of black had spread out under him, Ninfa’s magic shielding him as he swam.

  Tears burned his eyes when he spotted Riveen. Shifted as well, Riveen was alive, but he wasn’t able to swim with both wings, and a gash ran along the side he couldn’t use.

  He’s alive. He’s alive, and he’ll recover—

  Draven’s thoughts were shattered as an arm shot past him.

  Just an arm.

  It took a moment for his brain to process what that meant.

  A cloud of blood flowed beside him.

  No! No! He didn’t know who it was, but his cousins were the only human-like beings around…besides Titus. Not him. Not anyone!

  Draven couldn’t understand this nightmare, couldn’t grasp how violent and deadly it was, how much pain and suffering—and loss—would come of it.

  He saw Riveen recoil from the arm and rushed toward him.

  More blood. Draven gagged. Was it real, or was it a trick? The blood was so thick around him and Riveen, it was difficult to see.

  He heard a splash and tried to touch Riveen. Then the water surged around them, and everything tilted.

  Riveen was slammed against him. Draven couldn’t have moved away—he and Riveen had been caught in a net. They both thrashed, but to no avail. The net didn’t ascend, but rather flew deeper into the ocean.

  Draven stilled as monstrous things flitted past—or he and Riveen shot past them. What kind of hell is this? What kind of magic? This is a whole different realm, or different reality. The cold temperature alone should kill me and Riveen—

  Visions appeared in the swirling waves. Draven tried to cry out as he saw a hook strike Ninfa, saw other cousins fighting off a great, many-clawed beast. It used one pincher to rip off a leg. Draven’s cousin screamed as blood spurted everywhere.

  No! It can’t be real. It can’t be! Riveen shivered beside him. Draven tried to comfort him, but there was no comfort to be had when nightmares play out all around them.

  He saw the slaughter of every one of his cousins—those who had been with him on the beach, and those searching and trying to find out anything they could to help. It had to be unreal, at least part of it did, because no being could be so powerful.

  Draven shifted, and the water didn’t fill his lungs when he inhaled. “It’s not real,” he said. “Riveen, it isn’t real.”

  Riveen shifted and cringed. “Fuck it isn’t. This is real.” He pressed a hand to his left arm, the biceps of which had sustained a deep cut. “This is real, but—”

  “Not all of it.” Draven grabbed the netting and pulled. It didn’t rip as he’d hoped it would.

  “That thing that had me was real,” Riveen muttered. “I hope…”

  “Me too.” Draven knew what Riveen hoped—they didn’t want to lose their cousins. That arm that I saw, the battle on the beach—none of that’s real.

&
nbsp; Riveen pressed his hand over his mouth, then turned away and heaved.

  Draven wrapped his arms around his brother. “Don’t look. Don’t watch. He’s fucking with our heads.”

  Riveen turned toward him and curled against Draven. “What if it’s all real?”

  Draven didn’t have an answer. He held Riveen and closed his eyes as the net sped through the water.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Cold. Titus shivered. His head ached, and the cold seemed to seep all the way to his core. He tried to open his eyes, and maybe he succeeded, or maybe he was still unconsciousness—he couldn’t tell. There was nothing but the darkness, not even a speck of light. With his head pounding, he couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. All he knew was confusion, darkness, and the cold.

  Suddenly, a light so bright that it hurt his eyes hit Titus. He cringed and tried to place his hands over his eyes even though he closed them again, but he couldn’t move his arms.

  “Wh—?” He coughed and licked his dry lips. There wasn’t enough spit in his mouth to lubricate them. Titus’ throat was equally dry. It burned and, he realized a second later, most of his body felt hot and ached and he couldn’t move much at all.

  His last memory before waking was of being with Draven at the site of his burned-down house. There was nothing after that. His heart pounded as he tried to work his hands free. Pain shot through his wrists and shoulders. He started to open one eye, but the sound of movement nearby stopped him.

  “I know you’re awake. Open your eyes.”

  Titus shivered upon hearing that cold, toneless voice.

  “Now.” A sharp slap to his cheek startled Titus into doing what he’d been told to do.

  Squatting before him—and blocking out most of the godawful light—was the man from the grocery store parking lot. His eyes were entirely white, with no hint of other color or pupils. “Yes, you see me, Titus. I know who you are. How could I not when Draven screams so pitifully for you?”

  Titus was terrified, but he wouldn’t be cowed. “You sound like the worst movie villain ever.”

  That comment got him another slap.

  Titus’ ears rang, and he tasted blood. At least it wetted his parched mouth. “Act like it, too.”

  He expected another slap. He didn’t get one.

  “What is it about you that makes him love you?”

  Titus still didn’t hear any emotion in the man’s voice. “I’m not like you.” Andres. It’s Andres.

  Andres bared his teeth, showing two rows of sharp fangs. “You are weak.”

  Titus slowly shook his head. Those teeth were no doubt capable of ripping out someone’s throat. “No, I’m not. Compassion and kindness aren’t weaknesses.”

  “They are not strengths,” Andres countered. He cupped Titus’ chin in a grip that hurt. “I knew he did not love me. I wanted to hurt him.”

  “He did love you,” Titus answered, though it was hard to speak with the grip Andres had on him. He had to tilt his head back to have any jaw movement. “That’s why it took decades for him to love again.” He didn’t think he was lying. Draven might not have loved Andres like he loved Titus, but there’d been some love there. “You were going to expose him and his family to humans.”

  Andres shrugged and tightened his fingers against Titus’ chin. “And he killed me. Riveen watched as the sharks tore me apart. Do you have any idea of the agony I experienced? Physically, mentally, emotionally? Though I will admit, I did not lose the love of my life.” He smiled, then flicked a four-pronged tongue over his lips. “That I found after my death, and now, I’ve been granted my revenge.”

  None of that made any sense to Titus. “You want to do what was done to you? After how that made you feel?”

  Andres leaned in and instead of licking his own lips again, he licked Titus’ with that creepy tongue. “You taste like fear and desperation. Wonderful.”

  Titus tried to turn his head aside but couldn’t. Andres ran his tongue up Titus’ cheek, over one eye, then down to his ear.

  “Stop,” Titus rasped before he could stop himself. “Don’t touch me!”

  Andres licked a path down his neck, then sat back, still holding Titus’ chin. “Are you afraid for your virtue? That was not sexual. I know your taste and scent now. There is nowhere you can go that I cannot find you.”

  Titus doubted he’d be going anywhere other than a grave unless something miraculous happened.

  Andres smiled and let go of his chin only to slap him again. “You are the bait, Titus. I do not care whether you live or die—yet—but Draven and Riveen, and all their family? Those are the ones I will take pleasure in killing. Draven last, of course. I want him to see the destruction of all he loves.”

  Then why isn’t he going to kill me? Titus wanted to ask, but Andres cocked his head, listening to something Titus couldn’t hear, then he stood.

  “My lover arrives,” Andres said.

  At first Titus thought he meant Draven, because Andres was obviously a fucking mess, but then a dark shape emerged to the left—a dark, hulking shape that easily dwarfed Titus and Andres.

  “Tokokuen,” Andres murmured, holding out a hand to the form.

  It wasn’t quite man and wasn’t any creature Titus had ever seen. He couldn’t quite make out the shape, the edges and lines, the limbs or head. It was as if his brain couldn’t comprehend what his eyes saw, and there was a revolt occurring between his neurons and the other grey matter.

  But Andres was moving, gliding toward that figure. “Tokokuen, you are here. I didn’t expect you.”

  The sound that came from the thing—from Tokokuen—caused shards of agony to splinter in Titus’ head. He screamed, then darkness enveloped him again.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It looked like they were going to be crushed against a huge stone wall. Draven wrapped his arms around Riveen and tried to shield him, hoping to save him.

  A drag on the net jolted them backward, then the wall parted and blinding light spilled out from the crack.

  Draven couldn’t keep his eyes open. Riveen struggled in his embrace, but wounded as he was, he wasn’t able to break free.

  The net surged forward. Draven’s stomach dipped right before he and Riveen came to a halt. Draven tried to look, but the light was too strong.

  “Are we alive?” Riveen whispered, squirming.

  Draven turned to the side and tried opening his eyes again. The light was horrible, but he could bear it from that position. “We are.” Goosebumps pebbled his skin. Something else was there with him and Riveen.

  Draven turned them away and cupped Riveen’s head, pushing it to one side since Riveen would be facing the worst of the light. Draven used his body once again to shield Riveen, then Draven’s breath rushed from his lungs and his knees went weak as he saw Titus, bound and unconscious not a dozen feet away. Blood trickled from his left temple, and a darkening bruise marred one side of his face. His clothing was torn and hanging in shreds, but he was alive, and Draven clung to that.

  “Let me have my revenge. You promised me this.” Draven heard from behind him, and he knew that voice, had once anticipated hearing it.

  A chaotic sound followed, and it made Draven’s head throb as if it were about to burst.

  “Fuck. Fuck, ow!” Riveen’s legs gave out, and Draven went with him to the floor. The net kept them off most of it, but what Draven felt beside that was slimy and cold.

  “We will let the human go,” Andres was saying to someone. “If I must.”

  Another rumbling followed, and Draven had to cradle his head with both hands. Riveen whimpered and started to shiver.

  “It is not fair,” Andres snapped. “Why should any of them be freed?”

  The third time that foreign sound occurred, Riveen’s entire body convulsed. Draven only had a moment to feel the utter depths of terror before his own nervous system went haywire. The next thing he knew, he was curled up on his side, and he ached all over. The bright light was either stronger or he w
as just fucked up. Draven couldn’t tell which, and his head hurt too bad for him to be able to think.

  The air around them shimmered, wavering like heat wafting off asphalt. Riveen whimpered, and Draven rolled over, pulled to look toward the light.

  Ninfa appeared, water dripping from her hair, and at first what Draven thought was seaweed sliding through her dark tresses.

  Then he blinked and his vision came into focus, and he saw the dozens of thin sea snakes—no, eels—writhing in her hair.

  “What—?” The word was hardly even a sound. Draven coughed and tried again. “What are you?” Because she wasn’t just a shifter. He felt the power flowing from her, much as he’d felt the power coming from the source of the fucking light.

  Ninfa didn’t answer him. She moved one hand behind her and made a gesture. Draven feared he wasn’t getting her message, but warmth radiated up from his toes, spreading inside him, chasing off the pain and cold.

  Riveen stretched out beside him and almost glowed. Draven saw the wound to his arm heal in a matter of seconds.

  “Titus,” Draven whispered, crawling onto his hands and knees. Titus’ wounds were gone, and his eyes were open, his gaze on Draven.

  The bindings holding Titus fell off, and Titus pushed himself up. There was a silver-blue aura surrounding him for the briefest of moments, then it was gone.

  Ninfa spoke, and though Draven couldn’t comprehend the words, they didn’t hurt him like the other thing’s sounds had.

  Titus glanced toward the light and blanched. He rushed over to the net and started pulling at it. “How do I get this off?”

  “The more you pull, the harder it will be for us to get free. It’s tightening around the bottom.” Draven pointed at the enclosed end. “There’s usually—”

  “Here.” Riveen worked at the bottom of the net, parting the gathered material there and spreading it open.

  “Hurry,” Titus urged. “I don’t know what’s happening, but none of them are paying attention to us now.”

  “Not true.”

  Titus froze. Draven pivoted, still squatting, and felt dizzy when he found himself only inches away from Andres.