The Acropolis

by R.K. Ryals

Chapter 12

  Emma

  I am cold.

  Demons . . . power . . . such power.

  I can't breathe.

  Fire . . . blazing flames . . . I am burning.

  I am scared.

  Burning . . . I am burning . . . it feels amazing.

  I am dying.

  I am in water when I open my eyes, and I panic, thrashing as I draw in a lungful of salt water. It burns, and I struggle. There is no oxygen left. And still I struggle. I am weakening. I struggle. I am slipping away. I struggle.

  There are arms around me, vice-like and cold. We are moving. I am dying. My world is going dark, the only sound, a gurgling of water.

  And then I am gasping. The arms around my stomach are so tight, they are squeezing the water from my body. I am still, choking, but there is air above me, water surrounding me. Moonlight plays on choppy waves. And behind me, like a god of water, is Conor.

  "Breathe, Emma," he says. He is worried, desperate. He is watching the skies.

  I still can't catch my breath. I am cold, so very cold, and I feel like I will never be warm again. Something breaks the surface of the waves near us, and I recoil as I gasp. It is a sea monster.

  "Get back under the waves, Reinhardt," It hisses. It is Roach.

  Conor ignores him, his arms finally loosening some around my waist.

  "Emma, you've got to listen to me . . ."

  "She has called an army of Demons, and you want to pamper her?" Roach yells.

  His long, serpentine head arches backward, his beady eyes on the sky. It's the first time I notice the grotesque monsters in the air. They are moving fast toward us. I want to scream, but my throat is on fire.

  "You and I, Roach! When we get to the Acropolis, you and I! In the training center! Understand! Now, get your scaly hide back under the water and let me deal with this!"

  Conor is angry. I feel the emotion course through my blood. It is fire. It is good. Roach roars, his eyes flashing.

  "Dying for a Demon isn't dying honorably."

  With this, Roach is gone. I can hear keening in the sky. I don't look up. Conor is forcing my face in his direction.

  "Listen to me! We are going to have to go back underwater, Emma. Do you understand me?"

  I nod, but I only feel half-present. I do not know how I got here. I only remember the smooth taste of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I remember being afraid. Now, I feel fuzzy. I feel strong. I feel weak.

  Two heads surface near us, Will and Rachel. They share a look with Conor and are gone again. Conor looks up at the sky.

  "Fight it, Emma. Remember your mother, and for God's sake, hold your breath," he whispers urgently into my ear.

  My mother. In my mind, I glimpse a woman with dark hair and scarlet eyes. No, not my mother. My mother has auburn hair. She looks weak, but she is strong.

  I feel Conor turn to the waves. There are beating wings close now. I can feel the breeze on my face. Conor runs his hands over the waves, and water surges violently upward, forming a twister that circles us then moves away. I hear screaming. It isn't human.

  "Hold your breath," Conor orders.

  This time, I am ready. I fill my lungs with air, and then I am underwater. It is dark beneath the waves. The salt water stings so badly when I try to open my eyes that I force them closed again. I want to exhale, and I fight the urge. My lungs burn, but we are moving quickly, so fast the water almost hurts. It is tearing at my skin. I can't see, but I feel.

  The water temperature changes constantly. It is cold, colder, warmer in spots, but never truly warm. I am freezing. I don't know how Conor sees, but I trust him. For once, I trust him because I have too.

  There is suddenly air again.

  "Breathe!" Conor shouts.

  I exhale, I inhale. We are underwater again. I am digging my nails into Conor's skin. We move so fast, I am afraid he will let go. I am cold. So cold. I am dying from the cold. I am tired. I lose time. Someone slaps me gently.

  "Breathe!"

  Air again. Conor. I sputter, then inhale. Water again. The water hurts. My lungs can't handle this. I am dying. I exhale underwater because I can't hold my breath anymore. I open my eyes without thinking. Through the burn, the water is suddenly red. We are near the surface, but there is fire above.

  I get a glimpse of Conor's face. He looks defeated. He cannot surface. His eyes meet mine. His mouth descends. He is trying to breath for me.

  There is no warmth when our lips meet. My eyes are closed again. He exhales. I am not sure a person can breathe for another, but my lungs are fooled. Briefly fooled.

  I am struggling again. Why doesn't he just let me go? We break the surface again. There is air. I gasp.

  "We are almost there, Em. Hold on. One more time. Breathe one more time."

  I inhale. Water again. I will forever hate water now. I am too tired now to struggle. My eyes stay closed. I feel myself drifting. The cold, the lack of air . . . it is finally killing me. I welcome the darkness. There is no pain there.