by Lauren Dawes
“What did Smith have to say to you?” he asked, wry amusement in his voice.
“How’d you know he stopped me?”
“Just a hunch.”
“He told me to fuck off and die.”
He peered at me over this shoulder, his eyes smiling, then slid the visor down over his face. Starting the engine, I felt the vibrations roll through my body.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, wrapping my arms more tightly around his middle as he accelerated out of the parking lot.
“Just that Smith is running out of creativity when it comes to your insults.”
“Right? That’s what I thought.”
“I hope you ignored him.”
“I blew him a kiss.”
He chuckled, and the sound hit me between the legs. Not because he was using his pussy-soaking powers on me, but because the rich sounds just made me feel like being naughty. To clear my head—and my lady parts—of lusty thoughts, I asked, “What else can you tell me about Gwen?”
He blew out a breath. “She’s a water fairy.”
“And what’s the difference between a fairy and the fae?”
“Fairies are generally thought of as good, benevolent creatures. The fae are bad.”
“But what about the Seelie Court? I thought they were good.”
“They are on the whole, but darkness lurks in their minds too, influencing them. Fairies are completely without this darkness. They are one hundred percent good and kind.”
“So Gwen isn’t going to harm us?”
“I doubt it.” He drew his motorcycle to a stop at a set of lights and planted his feet. “All we should have to do today is find out why the kappas have stolen her son, then try to figure out how to get him back in one piece.”
“I don’t even know what a kappa is.”
“They’re not native to the United States. They’re a Japanese water spirit that was introduced into the environment.”
“Like the cane toad was introduced in Australia to eat cane beetles? Ha! Joke’s on them. Those bastards multiplied and have taken over.”
“Kind of like that. Some of the fae brought them here because kappas are very good at drowning humans.”
“I really have to stop hanging out with these drownings-are-cool supes,” I muttered.
He laughed again. “I think you’re right.”
The light turned green, and Sawyer accelerated hard, jumping ahead of all the cars.
“So tell me, how likely are we to get this kid out alive?”
Sawyer made a see-saw motion with his hand. “Fifty-fifty.”
“Gah, put your hand back on the handlebars!” I shrieked, gripping him even tighter. My pulse was pounding in my throat so hard I thought it would try to break through my skin.
He chuckled. “I’m an incredibly safe driver,” he said.
“Words won’t stop a flaming wreck and half my skin being torn off as I’m dragged across the asphalt.”
Sawyer patted my thigh in an annoyingly placating way. “I’ve got you, pussy cat. Don’t worry about it.”
We made it to the lake fifteen minutes later. Dirt-stained snowbanks lined the parking lot, and grit crunched under the tires of the Ducati as Sawyer eased the bike into a designated motorcycle spot.
The place wasn’t as busy as it normally would be in the summer, but winter sports brought people out too. I counted at least another six cars. As I got off the motorcycle, I saw an anxious Gwen standing to one side of the main path, worrying the brim of her wide hat in her hands. She looked even more stunning in the sun, the rays catching and holding the shimmers in her hair and on her skin.
“Just down here,” she said in an uneasy voice, pointing down a smaller, narrower, less-used path. We followed behind her, the plowed pathways edged with about a foot of snow on either side. It didn’t lead to the main rental shack or the mobile hot chocolate and coffee van, but around to the shorter edge of the oval lake. Here, the underbrush was denser. Holly bushes, witch-hazel, and red osier dogwood crowded together, their thin branches covered in fine lines of snow.
I shot Sawyer a glance over my shoulder, and he nodded. If this had been a fae leading us down a deserted path, I would’ve balked and run the other way, but since Sawyer vouched for fairies, I continued.
When we arrived at a small clearing, I looked around. We were on the far side of the lake, the vans and rental hut just barely visible as were the dozen or so skaters on the surface of the frozen-over lake.
“He was dragged under there.” Gwen pointed to a patch of ice that looked thinner than the rest. The fairy folded her arms over her chest protectively and took a shuffling step back. “His friends didn’t see him again after he went under.”
Sawyer took off his over-the-shoulder holster, handed it to me, and uncoiled a length of rope.
I pointed at it. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“I pulled it out of one of the saddlebags.” He wrapped one end around his waist and formed a knot.
“Well, aren’t you the Boy Scout?” I muttered.
“Wait,” Gwen suddenly said, reaching out her hand like she could physically stop him. “You can’t go out there. The ice is very thin on this side of the lake. It won’t hold your weight.”
“She’s right, Sawyer. Let me go out there. I’m lighter,” I said.
“No,” he replied firmly, tightening the knot. “It’s too dangerous.”
I huffed. “So too dangerous for me, but not too dangerous for you?” I scoffed. “What a load of shit. Get out of the way.”
“No.”
“Sawyer,” I said, exasperated. “If you hadn’t noticed time is ticking here. How much longer does Gwen’s son have? We have one chance. Let me go out there.”
He watched me for a full minute, and I could practically see his indecision. I curled my fingers, indicating to pass me the rope. With jerking, angry movements, he untied the rope and stalked toward me. Feeding it around my waist, he secured the knot in the front.
“I hate putting you in danger,” he hissed.
“Yet, you insist on taking me on your motorcycle all the time.”
“That’s different. I can control what the motorcycle does.”
I didn’t want to point out that he had no control over the other motorists too. Instead, I rolled my eyes. “I’ll be… owww!” I swatted his hand away when he pulled too tightly on the knot. “Fine.”
“If I think you’re in any danger, I’m coming out there after you.” He even jabbed his finger at me, driving home his point.
“All right,” I replied indignantly, then turned and looked over the lake. The thinner spot was fifteen feet from where I was standing, looking all peaceful and quiet and serene.
With a grumble, he eased back farther onto the bank, and I slowly crept out onto the glass-thin finish. My boots—which were great for hiking and getting traction on roads—did nothing to help me on the slick surface. I imitated a baby giraffe for a little bit, my legs sliding off in different directions until I could rein them back in again.
“Just a little farther,” Gwen said. “You’re almost at the spot where he disappeared,” she called from the shore.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that I was about twelve feet from the bank now. Sawyer’s expression was pinched with worry as he ran the length of rope attached to me through his fingers, giving me the slack I needed. Gwen looked defeated for some reason, her head lowering as I caught her gaze.
I had a brief moment to wonder why when I heard the ice crack…
Seven
“Cat!” Sawyer called frantically, tightening his hold on the rope. “Just ease back slowly. You’ve gone too far out.”
My breath tumbled out of me, hovering in the air in front of my mouth. I looked down at the fragile surface I was standing on, tracing the lines of the cracks that were forming under my weight with my eyes.
“Slowly, slowly,” he stressed. “Move your right foot backward, then shift your weight with it.” Saw
yer’s instructions were laced with worry, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d probably be the one to race in after me, and an ice bath certainly hadn’t been on the cards for me today.
I did as he asked, though, shuffling back slowly. I’d just lifted my remaining foot off the broken patch of ice when a pale blue hand appeared on the other side of the mirror-like surface. The palm was pressed against the ice, searching for a way through.
“I see him,” I called, frantic. “He’s stuck under the ice here.”
“Cat,” Sawyer warned. “Make sure you’re safe yourself first, then you can help others. You know this.”
I tuned Sawyer out because as far as I was concerned, going back only to come forward again made no sense.
I was here.
I could help him now.
But how?
I placed my hand down onto the ice and knocked something cold and metallic.
Reaver!
I could kiss that damn sword. Instead, I scooped it up and brought the tip to the frozen surface of the lake.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I mumbled. “Make a hole for me, baby.”
Reaver began to glow faintly—a blue not dissimilar to the color of Gwen’s skin—and the ice sizzled. Steam rose steadily from the surface of the lake as Reaver worked its way through the ice, slowly—slowly—creating a hole.
“McKenzie!” Sawyer shouted, cursing me creatively while he was at it. When I glanced at him over my shoulder, I found that he’d come out onto the icy lake too, the length of rope tied to me in his hand. I followed it to where Gwen was standing on the shore. She was holding the end of our only safety anchor in a white-knuckle grip, her expression tense and scared.
He eased up behind me, the ice groaning and creaking under our combined weights.
“Sawyer,” I croaked, raising the tip of Reaver from the surface. “Stop.”
He stilled when the ice creaked again.
He growled in my ear, “You’re going to get yourself killed doing this.”
“Now isn’t the time to make threats,” I shot back snidely. “Besides, you’ll be dying right alongside me since you came out here, too.”
He snarled, low and steady. “I’m a lot stronger than you. I can survive an ice bath. You, on the other hand, will die of hypothermia within minutes.”
“I’ll be fine,” I replied. “Now get back so you don’t send us both down into the water.”
With a growl of frustration I was becoming accustomed to hearing, he backed away a few steps. I wouldn’t say it out loud, but I was glad for the rope around my middle. It was just the safety net I needed. The ice still whined in protest of the weight, and I waved him back even farther. If he plunged through the surface, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.
Lowering Reaver once more, I watched the water bubble and steam. It had finally made a hole, but I needed it to be bigger. A few more minutes was all it should take. Eventually, I’d made a hole big enough for Gwen’s son’s hand to reach through. I took that cold limb in mine, curling my warm fingers around frigid ones and murmured, “We’ll get you out of there. Just hang on.”
Calling over my shoulder to Sawyer, I said, “I’ve got him, but I need to make the hole bigger.”
“Cat, it’s not safe.”
“He’s not safe,” I hissed, gesturing to the boy trapped under the ice. “I’m not going to leave him to die at the hands of the kappas.”
I twisted my head around, staring down into the dark lake to see if I could see his face yet. The grip on my hand was still tight—strong—and really, that should’ve been my first indication that things weren’t right.
If her son had disappeared into a freezing lake yesterday, how could he possibly still be alive almost eighteen hours later? How could he possibly still be alive trapped under the ice for that long?
Around my neck and under my jacket, my necklace pulsed with heat.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
A pair of orange-red eyes were staring back at me, blinking slowly. My gaze shifted down, and where I expected to see a mouth and nose, I saw a beak like a snapping turtle might have and tiny little round nostrils spaced closely together. On its head was a thatch of black hair, which floated like river weed around its head. The blue-green skin covering his arms and face was a combination of dark and olive greens, with a spattering of pale blue spots.
“Sawyer!” I yanked back, trying to pull away from the hand, but the creature wouldn’t let me go. “Sawyer!”
“I’m so sorry,” I heard Gwen say, shaking her head, before she vaporized in front of my eyes. The tension on the rope disappeared, leaving us without anything to anchor us.
What the ever-loving-fuck was going on?
“Sawyer! Help me! Whatever it is has me.”
He ran out onto the ice, going into a belly slide to distribute more of his weight. This time the ice didn’t groan as much as he skidded closer to me.
“I’ve got you,” he said in a tight voice, grabbing hold of my waist.
Pointing with my free hand, I asked, “What the hell is that?”
He looked. His jaw tightened. “It’s a kappa.”
“It won’t let go of me.”
I screamed when claws sprouted from the fingers holding tight—razor-sharp talons that were at least an inch long. Blood flowed from the wounds, dripping onto the ice. It was almost offensive to see the bright scarlet drops against the virgin snow.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said and pushed away from me, retreating back to shore. The kappa yanked at my arm, plunging my hand into the ice-cold water of the lake. Then another set of hands was on me. And another. They all clawed at me, pulling, shredding the skin from my forearm and hand. I screamed, my blood tinting the water red until the color diluted away into pink.
My shoulder was jammed into the hole while the kappas pulled, attempting to drag me down. I screamed as they tried to pull the socket from my shoulder, and I was kind of grateful it was my left arm they had rather than my right. I’d hate to have to relearn doing everything with just my left arm.
I shook my head. What an odd thought to have.
Beneath me, there was a sudden pounding that grew louder and more violent with every strike. The ice buckled then broke apart, plunging me into the black, sluggish water. I managed to suck in a gasp before I was fully submerged, but the shock of the cold made me open my mouth and scream.
Three more kappas grabbed my other arm, another three on each leg as they dragged me down to the bottom of the lake. Even through the murky light, I could see each creature had a shell on its back like a turtle, its hind legs like a frog. On top of their heads, however, I noticed a small silver dish, making them look like they’d all had Friar Tuck haircuts at the same barber.
My lungs began to burn as the need for oxygen increased. I kicked out frantically, dislodging all but two of the kappas then did the same with my arms, shaking off a couple, but not nearly enough. I’d just managed to pull my opal free from the neck of my jacket when the ones that I’d flicked off reattached with a lot more gusto this time, digging in their clawed fingers and drawing more blood.
My feet touched the bottom of the lake, and the light emanating from my opal flared suddenly, revealing about a hundred skeletons on the silty lake floor. Jesus, how many people had these kappas drowned, and why had they never been reported as missing?
The kappas released me when there was a flare of light, shielding their eyes as if they were in pain. Using their distraction, I bent my knees, kicked off the bottom of the lake and propelled myself upward. Bubbles streamed from my nose as I ascended, although as I tried to breech the surface, I realized I had no idea where that hole was. I bobbed along under the sheet of ice, slamming my fists against it again and again and again.
Frantically, I turned around, my lungs burning with the need for air, my eyes stinging, my arms and legs aching.
There was no way out.
No way out.
Suddenly,
there was a thunderous crack and a tree limb careened through the ice, barely missing me. Out it went before it was plunged back in again. And again. Ice broke away in large pieces, creating an opening for me. Sawyer’s hand was suddenly there, and I reached for it, clutching at my lifeline. He pulled me up, and my head breached the surface. I sucked in a large gulp of air before I was tugged back down into the black water.
My opal flared to life again, heat accompanying the light show. Then a ripple emanated from it, like a shockwave or electrical impulse moving through the water. All the kappas froze in position, their eyes the only thing still moving. They’d been stunned. I didn’t have time to nut over that one. Instead, I kicked my legs and fought my way back up to the surface.
Sawyer hooked his arms underneath mine as soon as I did, pulling me out and onto the ice. My whole body was shaking, my core temperature dangerously low. Dragging my limp body to the edge of the bank, he hauled me out then propped me—standing—against a tree, stripping me out of my wet clothes. When I was naked except for my bra and panties, he shucked his jacket and wrapped it around me.
“I have a Mylar blanket in one of my saddlebags.”
“A-a-aren’t y-y-y-you—”
“Don’t try and talk,” he chastised gently.
“B-B-Boy Scout,” I forced out, my teeth chattering painfully.
Before I could move, he scooped me into his arms and walked us back the way we’d come. The red osier brushed against our legs as he moved quickly but carefully through the woods. I tucked my head into Sawyer’s hot neck, trying to take the warmth into my own body. I’d never known cold like this—not even after the witch tried to drown us in the subway station a few weeks ago. I felt it all the way in my blood and bones—like I’d never be warm again.
“How are you doing?” Sawyer asked softly.
“O-O-O-Okay,” I managed to stammer out. “C-C-C-C—”
“Cold. I know, pussy cat.” He dropped a kiss to my forehead, then picked up the pace.
When we emerged from the path into the parking lot, many of the other cars that had been there previously were gone. Sawyer set my feet to the ground but kept one arm wrapped around my waist as he pulled open one of the saddlebags and took out a folded Mylar blanket.