Chapter Twenty-Three

“Rebel!”

The tunnels rang out with Anjeline’s screams, shattering her voice into a kaleidoscope of echoes. “You promised!” Her wails bounced off the waters, her eyes widened in shock, but Rebel’s form had already disappeared into the blackness. “Rebel!” she yelled, tugging at the bars as her throat flamed from bellowing the name.

“Quiet.” Doris flicked her tail. “The girl’s gone.”

Please… Anjeline might have whispered her name again, but she felt too shocked to think. Saltwater left blurry shapes in her eyes, and she finally became aware of the tears. Still, she made no attempt to wipe her face, to see anything beyond her loss.

The old mermaid drew near. “Honestly, I didn’t think she’d leave so easily,” she said, sounding disappointed. “But you can’t blame her. Humans know nothing of our world. It’s a mercy. Ours would have devoured her.”

“We had a pact.” Anjeline stared at the archway, down the dark opening, hoping she’d seen everything wrong. Rebel wouldn’t just leave, would she? But she did.

The mermaid hummed. “Sometimes the one you’d do anything for is the one who stabs you in the back.”

“Iskuty!” Heat boiled from Anjeline’s lips, flashing off her like a draft of fire. Her magic pushed at her bonds, and the runes upon her skin shimmered through the sweater she wore. Rebel’s sweater. The scent of her still lingered on the fabric, and Anjeline felt her absence. Felt submerged in numbing ice. The loss pierced her chest with a vicious blade, her heat not enough to sweep away the feeling.

“I’ll leave you to simmer down,” Doris said.

In a swish, she vanished beneath the water.

Silence filled the tunnel cavern, and Anjeline’s eyes drew to the now empty cage beside her. She caught sight of the book floating atop the water. The one Rebel was never without. Reaching through the bars, she grabbed the waterlogged book, hugging the small thing to her chest. She let her heat surface, fanning the book’s delicate pages until it was dry, and remembered Rebel’s promise, twining a finger with hers. How many times had Madrath warned her of human promises?

She heaved out a single sob. “How could she do this? Her eyes were trustful.” Those eyes were gentle, kind, and they looked at her in such a way she thought she’d found the one—the one Solomon had spoken of.

“Don’t despair, Wishmaker.” It was Piran’s voice, but she heard the echoes of Rebel’s behind it. “You think she’d betray you after the fox betrayed her?”

Heat misted from her mouth as she exhaled. “Those who have been bruised end up bruising others. Humans learn to save only themselves.”

“But the Fingersmith stole you, didn’t she? Helped you?” He grinned. “And your heart? Did she steal a piece of that, too?”

Her shoulders sagged, trembling a little more.

…

The icy water stole Rebel’s breath.

It was deeper than it looked, but she cut through the current as fast as she could, not sparing a glance behind her. With questing fingers, she gripped the sides of the tunnel wall in surety. The glacial river gushed into her mouth, and she coughed, glad she swallowed one of her pills to keep her ticker from causing a blackout. When she’d first hit the river, she feared her heart would freeze, and she pushed away the words filling her mind.

You go on this journey, and you will die on it.

Torn between relief of the mermaid releasing her and distressed over what she must do, Rebel wondered if this had been such a wise choice, despite the fact she’d already made it. The rushing water felt like she was struggling against a beast, grabbing at her legs in a powerful grip. Hypothermia would soon be setting in if she didn’t hurry. Her lower half was going numb, feeling as if she were turning coldblooded.

But she hadn’t noticed the pain.

How could she focus on anything other than the voice that had been begging her to come back? The cries had echoed on each side of her, Anjeline calling her name with such urgency her pulse had weakened. She’d whispered with every ounce of her strength for Anjeline to stop. The screams did stop, yet the sound had already pierced her heart. She’d felt it in her bones. It chilled her more than any icy river could.

Collect yourself. Rebel exhaled. You can do this. She kept herself from moving against the downstream current the water wanted to push her toward, out into the main river. Thanks to Jaxon, years ago, she’d learned how to swim when he’d pulled her into the Thames and taught her how. At last, she came to the spot and saw her prize glitter below. She held a breath and reached for it at the bottom of the water. As her fingers hit the metal, she wrapped a hand around the bone hilt, thanking the Creator she hadn’t lost her beloved switchblade.

At least it hadn’t betrayed her.

Though the waters appeared to be unobstructed, rocks and rubbish littered the bottom floor. Her knee smashed into a piece of metal, and she groaned. The object floated up to the surface. A tire cap. Along with several dead trout covered in plastic wrap. Which would explain the Siren’s vengeful actions. How could anyone survive among garbage?

Rebel grabbed one trout for bait, in case she ran into those eels. Then she shoved her switchblade into her belt. Minutes passed as she waited, her breathing coming harsher, her muscles growing stiffer, but she drove herself on. Yet she no longer felt cold, which meant all the blood in her body was cooling down. Soon, she told herself. Soon she’d be warm. Her insides hummed in excitement at the thought.

At last, she heard the old mermaid and the beat of a tail sloshing away. Rebel knew she had left. No time like the present. With a shiver and one quick movement, her head went under the water.

She did not come up again.