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SOMEONE SHOOK ALFRED’S shoulder. “Wake up!”
Ethel! He sat up with a start. What was she doing in the underworld? In his bedchamber? “I delivered all the souls you sent me to collect, just as you asked. Except for Jack. The witch revived him.”
“I heard.” Ethel sat on the cushy bed beside him, fully clothed, from muscle and skin to gown and slippers.
Alfred moaned at being caught naked again, his bones showing. Even his coverings were splayed on the floor where he’d chucked them after collapsing in despair last night.
“What I missed was what happened next,” Ethel said.
“What do you mean? There was nothing to report.”
She picked up his tablet from the end table and ran a finger along its new crack. “You spoke with Llyn?”
Heat rushed up to his skeletal cheeks. Alfred retrieved his tablet and set it on the table. “Yes, then she went home.”
“Did she?” Ethel gave him a long-suffering look. “Typical. You did not wait long enough to see the end of the story. Alfred, Adramelech pulled her into the underworld.”
“What! He did not—”
“The fae/warlock saved her.” Ethel held her finger and thumb an inch apart before his nose. “Witnesses say he was this close to ending the demon’s life.”
He slapped her hand away. If he still had a heart, it would be thumping with horror. “Is Llyn all right? She would have steamed down here. She is a water being!”
“Is she?” Even with her bones fully covered, Ethel’s cheek stretched into a macabre smile.
Alfred gave up on her and frantically checked his tablet. Recent enrollees of the dead scrolled up on the maddeningly flickering screen. He sent a silent prayer that he would not spot Llyn’s name.
“So, I was right,” Ethel said, in a jovial tone. “You are in love with the mermaid.”
“She is not a mermaid!”
She hugged him tight, squishing the stone tablet between them so hard it was in danger of completely splitting apart. “I knew it.”
“Release me.” Alfred pushed her away. His tablet screen was blank, along with his hopes. What if Llyn’s name had been at the bottom of that list? “Look what you’ve done.”
“You can use mine until you get yours fixed or you are given a new one. Oh, and Llyn is very much alive.”
He glanced cautiously at his friend.
She nodded. “That is what I came to tell you. I was worried you might have heard about the fight at the gateway. Rumors flew that Adramelech had killed a water goddess but that was horse manure flung by his pet hornets. She is alive, and thanks to the clever Miss Adair, healed.”
Alfred breathed in abject relief and leaned against his bed’s headboard, broken tablet forgotten on his lap. After a moment of contemplation, he remembered his manners. “Thank you for telling me. I thought you were busy.”
“I am, but I also know you well, my friend. I suspected that you might be moping around after finally meeting the love of your life.”
“She sees me as nothing more than Death,” Alfred said in a glum tone. “I could have been any death collector.”
“Did you tell her that you have adored her from afar for ages? That you admire her greatly? That her beautiful smile melts your bones? Alfred, she needs to hear how you feel. Did you even introduce yourself?”
“She was in a rush.”
“We all are. A girl needs to feel that you care about what she cares about. How can she discover that if you do not even speak to her?”
“I know what she cares about. Healing her father, and that means pleasing a witch from Callington.”
Ethel flicked a hand in dismissal. “Did you learn that from her or from your broken tablet?”
“From watching her confront the dark fae’s son.”
“You did not stay long enough to act as her hero when Adramelech attacked her.”
“I did not know she would get pulled in there!”
“Well, what is done is done. Your lady is safe now, thanks to the fae/warlock. You owe him a debt of gratitude for saving her. Which is why I have decided to send you to Wales.”
“What? Why?”
“The water god is on death’s doorstep, metaphorically, and when it is time to collect him, better that it be by someone who is sympathetic to his daughter’s tender feelings.” She tossed his tablet onto the side table where it landed with a clunk that made him cringe. “If you are to impress the water goddess, don’t forget to dress properly.”
She stood and as she opened a gateway to Britain’s best-known city, the clip-clop of horses’ hooves in London echoed inside Alfred’s deathly quiet abode. Before he could argue that he might not be the right man for this job, she had vanished. She had also forgotten to leave her tablet with him to use.
With a sigh, Alfred left his comfy bed. On his end table, his tablet winked to life, displaying an underwater scene where among undulating plants, little fishes swam. A shadow among those reeds caught his attention. He drew closer and spotted an eel swim by as if in a frantic hurry.
* * *
DEWER UNCONSCIOUSLY hugged Miss Adair closer before answering his mother’s accusation that he cared for this witch. All the while he kept channeling his energy into her, hoping to revive her strength. It felt too little because he was already exhausted from the battle with Adramelech. He could use his mother’s help, not only with safeguarding Grace’s family on their way to London but healing her, too.
He glanced at this fierce fae queen, his mind whirling on ways to get around her. His mother would sooner kill Grace than help her in any way. Hate seemed to be her calling card. Yet, she also knew how to love. There might be a sliver of an opening there. “You have always said caring for another person makes us weak. Yet, you profess to care for me.”
“You are my son.”
“You also cared for my father.”
“Which proves my point.”
“What about Adramelech?”
For the first time, she avoided his gaze. “What about him?”
“Why do you tolerate him?”
“That relationship is complicated.”
With a monumental effort, he held his tongue, suppressing the urge to spew out his suspicions about that vile demon. The time was not right. There was still too much hidden about what had truly happened the night his father was murdered. Instead, he simply said, “So is this one.”
“Why must I travel to London? I have business elsewhere. I am a busy woman.”
“Not too busy to keep you from interfering with my plans,” he said in dismissal. “In my absence, aside from protecting Miss Adair’s family, someone will have to deal with the underworld invasion of London. In Miss Adair’s absence, her father also needs assistance with whatever troubles him.”
“You do not need to curry favors with the Council,” his mother hissed.
There had never been much love lost between her husband’s people and her, since the Council had vehemently opposed one of their members marrying a dark fae. Upon Dewer’s father’s death, that yawning divide had grown into a chasm, and his mother’s bitterness toward the Council blossomed every time they rejected her son’s requests for assistance.
“They are a bunch of old men.” She practically spat in fury. “They have done nothing but betray you from the day you were born. As for this one’s father’s predicament about his idiotic sick fish, her haughty mother and bizarre grandmother are more than capable of dealing with that silly crisis.”
Dewer frowned. How did she know about the fish? He barely remembered Dotty mentioning her son-in-law’s fish in their drawing room. Could it have been just this morning? It felt as if that conversation had occurred months ago.
With effort, he continued to channel his energy into Miss Adair and focused his thoughts on the discussion at hand. “You owe me, mother. For Adramelech’s incursion into the upper world, for interrupting my journey to Town, and now, for Miss Adair’s illness.”
“How am I responsible for this one injuring herself?”
At least she had not denied the other two reasons, and that worked to his benefit. “Miss Adair would not be so exhausted if she had not been weak after healing Jack, who was only injured by Adramelech thanks to your interference. Jack’s father died to protect mine, your late husband. We both owe Miss Adair a debt of gratitude for saving Jack.”
“Huh!” his mother grunted.
He had won! Dewer reined in his elation.
Fact: Victory with his mother always required a painful sacrifice.
“I call a fae bargain,” he said. Best to make this a formal agreement she could not wriggle out of. He would need to make this deal sweet enough. “Help me revive Grace and ensure her family reaches London in safety and consider our slate clean.”
Her glance returned to his with keen, calculating intent. “Completely?”
He set his mouth in a grim line and nodded.
She sat back and watched him carefully. “Even for what I did to Merryn Pendraven and her family?”
Miss Adair, who had begun to stir in his arms, suddenly went still, as if she listened for his answer.
“For everything,” he said, cleaving himself from his past mistakes and reaching for his future. Miss Adair mattered above everything. A note of caution rose, reminding him of his mission to avenge his father’s death. Almost everything.
The young lady’s eyes opened wide and her startled gaze captured his. With effort, he tore away to strike his bargain. He might hold the indomitable Miss Adair in his arms, but his impossible mother held his heart in her grip. For without her approval, any relationship he wished to have with a woman was doomed to fail. Her reaction to his interest in Merryn had proven that.
His mother’s focus flicked from him to the woman he embraced. Her eyes narrowed and then she blinked, her expression shuttered before she nodded in acquiescence. “Agreed.”
* * *
GRACE SAT UP, AND THEN put her hands over her swimming head.
“Slowly, Miss Adair,” Mr. Dewer whispered as he braced her with a hand at her back, where they were sitting on the ground.
A shiver began where his ungloved hand imprinted onto Grace’s skin through her cloak and gown. Pinpricks of awareness raced across her flesh from that touch point. Feeling the weight of his mother’s gaze sear into where her son supported Grace, she resisted the urge to lean into Dewer’s delightful touch.
She turned around, slowly so her wavering sight would not completely desert her, and glanced warily between mother and son. “What have you both agreed to?”
She waited for one of the two people who had selflessly worked to revive her – she sensed their dark energies coursing through her like an icy river - to offer an explanation. Into that pregnant pause, Farfur came forward and licked her cheek. She absently fondled his fur as Bartos trod over and sat heavily against her back as if afraid she might collapse. She leaned against him, grateful for his silent strength.
“Travel arrangements,” Burns said, finally. “My son plans to accompany you to Wales with the water goddess, and I will accompany your mother and grandmother in his carriage to London.”
Grace was strangely comforted by the notion of Dewer accompanying her, knowing he planned to watch her back, too. She pictured him leaping through the gate to the underworld to save the water goddess and wanted no one else by her side. Ever. Burns traveling with her mother, on the other hand, would spell naught but a disaster. “That latter part of the plan is unnecessary,”
“Exactly what I pointed out,” Burns said. “The boy insists.”
“The matter is settled,” the boy, um...Dewer, said, and rose to his feet. He offered her an impersonal hand up, now properly gloved.
She accepted his offer and was swiftly on her feet. They were no more than a breath apart, leaving her a little out of breath and a great deal out of composure.
He blinked once, and then twice, his gaze slipping to her lips and lingering there with a burning hunger she wanted to quench. He prudently stepped away and turned his attention to his still-seated mother and extended both his hands.
Taking a gulp of breath, Grace stepped back, her heart hammering with excitement or shock, she was unsure which. This man brought her entire body awake faster than a nightmare. Did he expect to travel alone with her into Wales? Surely her mother would never allow it.
Where was her mother? In the past, the baroness had always sensed when Grace’s innocence was under assault and had been at her side like an avenging guardian angel before her daughter could find the words to say yea or nay to a tempting offer.
A check over her shoulder showed her grandmother’s white-knuckled grip was on her mother’s wrist. Ah! All of Grace’s defenders and her defenses, had deserted her. Even Burns, if she truly meant to accompany her mother and grandmother to London and leave her son in Grace’s lone company.
Llyn approached then, looking anxious. “Miss Adair, are you truly better?”
“Well enough to travel. It seems Mr. Dewer plans to accompany us to your father’s home. Where does the water god reside?”
“Oh, thank you,” Llyn said. “He is at Llyn yr Afanc, our home in northern Wales.” She held out her arms to Grace and Dewer. “If we are to go, we must hurry.”
Grace took hold of his right hand. Instantly, the goddess triggered her magic, raising bumps on Grace’s arms. She called for her staff and Joy flew into her grip, while her witch’s hat wove its ribbons snugly through her hair. Dewer’s staff was likewise in his hold as their feet left the ground.
“Grace,” her mother called out and ran toward her but the three of them were already airborne.
“Mama, tell Papa, I shall join him as soon as I can.”
Dewer’s mother came over to the two witches on the ground and Grace felt a sweep of guilt at what she had landed her mother in. Ignoring her quarrelsome companions, her grandmother cheerfully waved goodbye to Grace from beside Dewer’s carriage where the two hellhounds were howling in protest at being left behind.
“Guard them,” Dewer ordered and the two quieted, and obediently flanked Grace’s mother and grandmother.
“Thank you,” she said, touched by his thoughtfulness, then caught her breath as Llyn’s flight took alarming twists and turns, pulling them along. They rippled through the air as if they swam instead of flew.
* * *
THEIR TRAVEL MADE DEWER’S head swim as Miss Adair’s must have after she healed the water goddess. It did not help that as they proceeded on their leisurely, meandering way north – he had assumed the water god was at death’s door! – a blossoming sense of loneliness at being separated from Farfur invaded, setting Dewer’s heart thumping in worry and stretching his nerves like a tightrope on which Llyn was currently dancing.
He had never felt such a strong attachment to another living thing as he did to Farfur, not to his mother or father, not even to Merryn Pendraven. His only comfort was that he was with Miss Adair on this journey. Her presence was a deep, calm ocean beneath the churning emotional waves assailing him within and without.
Also, surprisingly, since he hated inane chatter, it helped that Farfur gave him a minute by minute report on all he saw, smelled and tasted on his journey to London. Dewer made a note to have a talk with the hellhound about the number and times he succumbed to the urge to sniff things, most especially rear ends.
Dewer passed a lake below and his escort took another unnecessary detour so they could all dip their feet into its chilly surface. Llyn seemed as drawn to bodies of water as Farfur was lured to backsides. Then they swooped up at a dizzying pace until they kissed misty clouds.
After the twelfth such drop and rise, Dewer was ready to upend the meager contents of his stomach, which was nothing more than bile, since he had not eaten since early this morning. He glanced over to see how Miss Adair reacted to this bizarre mode of travel.
Her face was wreathed in enjoyment, eyes crinkling delightfully. It was such an enchanting, infectious sight, his indisposition withered under the joyous assault and he had to resist the impulse to break into a matching smile.
Then the goddess proclaimed, “We have arrived!”
He breathed a sigh of relief that caught in his throat as they dove at a staggering pace toward a lake nestled at the base of a series of rugged mountains two hundred feet below. As they drew closer, a long grey line formed on the lake’s surface, and then water churned around the projection as if whatever had come up to greet them was thrashing with excitement, setting waves rolling onto the shore sides.
Dewer clenched his staff, channeling his power through it in readiness for any needed defense. His staff vibrated, and to his shock, Farfur’s energy poured in, multiplying Dewer’s power tenfold. He almost lost his grip on the staff in shock. Down, boy.
Like a well-trained puppy, the influx of power settled, making Dewer thrill at his command of that unexpected weaponry, all without a single spell cast. So, this was what it felt like to be tied to a familiar. He had thought this strengthening of his ability only came from having a warlock for an apprentice, which is why he had spent most of his teen years trying to acquire one. All to no avail as the Warlock Council blocked his attempts at each try.
Why had his mother never told him that having a familiar could be useful? Why try to cut his link to one once he connected with Farfur? He took her for many things, most unsavory, but had never doubted that she was a devoted mother who had his best interests at heart, however dark that heart might be.
Then another thought intruded. Could his being half-fae play into this mixture, strengthening it? Wyhcan magic was ever blocked by this world, hence the witches’ liking for the baptism ceremony. Could his blood tie to the fae be his key to tapping into Earth’s powers? If so, then he understood why the Warlock Council had so stridently resisted Dewer attaining an apprentice, never mind revealing the command he could wield once he bonded with a familiar. So much so, they had even allied with witches to keep Dewer at heel.
There was so much to being a warlock he had missed because his father died when he was a boy. That old ache to find and punish the one who murdered his father surfaced and Dewer squashed the deep-rooted desire. That was a long game he had no intention of sharing with anyone.
Inside his frantic suppression of that desire, a vision of Farfur surfaced. The hellhound swished his tail on the carriage floor, as if he understood Dewer’s command for silence on this delicate matter.
He was taken aback by that silent sharing of a goal he had never voiced. Not even during those tortuous months when Adramelech confined him, trying to draw out his prisoner’s secrets. Here Dewer was, freely sharing it with Farfur. The hellhound felt as much a part of Dewer as his thundering heart. Finally, after all these months, nay, years of isolation, he was no longer alone. It was a humbling revelation.
“What is that thing?” Miss Adair asked and he realized they were about to break through the lake’s surface. He took a breath and they were underwater, face-to-face with the creature that had surfaced to greet them. He fashioned a breathing bubble for himself and glanced over to suggest Grace do the same. She already had. Smart girl. He now turned his attention to their greeter.
The creature was at least twenty feet in length, with short and smooth fur. It looked like a beaver pelt. Mostly it looked like a giant black blob with a short rounded white head. Tiny black eyes peered at them with the avid curiosity of a hungry predator deciding if something was a teeth-breaking rock or an edible mollusk.
Once in the water, Llyn transformed into her tentacled form and spoke to the giant beaver in a series of musical notes. It then did an about-face and swam away. Since they followed in its trail, Dewer assumed it was to be their vanguard to the Water God’s palace.
They’d travelled for a bit when he noticed that they had acquired a tiny shadow directly below. An eel with bulging eyes kept pace directly beneath Miss Adair. Considering that every other sea creature had made way before the charging advance of the behemoth beaver, the persistent eel made him curious. He used his staff to signal Miss Adair to the interloper. She glanced down and then surprisingly, she released her grip on his hand.
He signaled Llyn to halt, unwilling to lose sight of Miss Adair. The giant beaver was the slowest to stop and then it returned to Dewer’s side, hovering so still, it was like standing next to a dark gray wall.
He took a deep breath to infuse some much-needed air into his lungs while they quietly waited for Miss Adair to finish her conversation with the eel. Finally, she returned looking worried, the eel swimming at her side, looking wild and agitated with those bulging eyes. She indicated that her new friend would be travelling with them.
They continued their underwater trek. Over two hundred feet away, at the other end of the lake, a rock face stretched straight up to the surface. At a gesture from Llyn, the barrier shimmered and became transparent. They swam through as if crossing a sheer fluttery curtain and came out into an enclosed shallow pool on the other side.
Dewer surfaced and, discarding his breathing bubble, took a breath of fresh, cool delicious air, rejoicing at breathing naturally again. Beside him, Miss Adair, too, took a gulp of breath. Now its escort service was no longer required, the giant beaver swam away, thrashing his tail so hard he buffeted the three of them and the eel against the marble edge of the pool. Except for the eel, they all climbed out. The eel checked out the small enclosure in a frantic fashion.
While Miss Adair had looked her usual enchanting self while underwater, on land her clothing clung to her in all the right places. She shook herself and her clothing instantly dried.
Dewer suppressed his disappointment at that necessity and also dried out. He indicated the eel. “Who is your impatient friend?”
“His name is Hollis. He has a loved one who is ill,” Miss Adair said, glancing over her shoulder at the circling eel.
“You realize that you cannot save everyone you meet?”
She gave him a quick glance filled to overflowing with concern. “I may not have a choice in the matter, Mr. Dewer.”
“This way.” Llyn, having transformed into her attractively dressed human form again, gestured at them to hurry. She directed them toward a pair of rounded pillars that led to a room with a glass ceiling, above which were all manner of fishes and other aquatic creatures. Occasionally, those marine lifeforms stopped to gaze at their passage below.
This building’s walls were also made of transparent glass, like a giant marine vivarium that extended as far as the eye could perceive. They traversed along curving corridors while the residents of the vivarium observed them with avid curiosity. Then again, considering they were beneath a lake, perhaps it was not the aquatic animals that were in a cell, but the three of them.
They came to an enclosed aquatic chamber that housed a gigantic open white shell. A pale gray creature lay on that bed, the likes of which Dewer had never witnessed. Then he shook his head. No, he had seen something similar to this giant squid-thing.
Llyn had shifted into this similar visage when they entered this lake. These two were related, so this ailing creature must be her father, the Water God of Britain. Another, bluer, squid-like creature entered the chamber and on sighting them, it hurried over to the glass wall. Llyn and the newcomer touched hand to tentacle on opposite sides of the barrier.
She turned back. “This is my brother, Llyr.”
Dewer’s forearm twitched at the brand Llyn had burned there, as if it recognized the creator of that “trick.”
This was the brother who had taught Llyn how to cast a physical binding onto a human, and now she’d done so with a warlock. Since Dewer had enabled Grace to accompany Llyn to her kingdom, the onus on him should end. The release could not come fast enough. Ever since he had spent months as Adramelech’s prisoner, Dewer did not care for restraints placed on his will.
He seemed to be acquiring many earthly connections of late. Over and above his mother’s fae blood, there was the binding the Laneast well had placed on Farfur and, through him to Dewer. The Callington witches believed that well was a sanctuary to Earth’s overprotective Creator. Dewer rubbed his forearm.
With each mark, each knot tied, this world appeared to be claiming him as its own. Considering this planet had rejected all things “Wyhcan” after his ancestors’ unexpected intrusion on its surface three hundred years ago, Dewer was uncertain if he should be pleased or wary about this sudden unrolling of the welcome mat.
Fact (according to his mother): All kindly gestures came with a hefty price.
Grace approached the glass separating her from her patient. At her touch, the glass shimmered, giving her access into that aquatic abode. Encasing her face in an air pocket again, she travelled across.
Once again, without the slightest hesitation, she strode into danger simply to reach a patient. Dewer resisted the overwhelming urge to pull her back. How would she ever learn to be cautious if he kept saving her?
* * *
PINPRICKS OF ENERGY kissed Grace’s skin as she moved from an environment of air to one of water.
Llyr, the water god’s son, nodded a welcome before he stepped into the adjoining air-breathing room Grace had just vacated. There, he transformed into a young dark-haired gentleman, properly fitted in modern English attire that included a tailcoat, pantaloons and polished hessians. Was he was trying to best Dewer’s stunning appearance?
Suppressing a smile, Grace silently wished him the best of luck with that doomed strategy. Her attention swung to the water god. His large white shell-bed rested on a four-foot stand, bringing it waist high to her. Laying her staff on the floor, she sat on the shell’s edge. As she examined her patient, time felt as if it sped by, slipping from her grasp like water trickling through splayed fingers.
Hollis, the eel who had followed her to this lake, had said his friend, Hudson, was dying. As was this water god, if the ebb of his energy flow was any indication. Grace could only help one at a time. Since Hudson was currently lying sick on the bank of the River Thames, many hundreds of miles away, she feared she would not arrive in London in time to be of any assistance. That looming failure ate away at her as she sent probes into this ailing deity, gauging the source of his malady.
There were no distinct dark globules on him as there had been on his daughter’s ankle and forehead. Instead, Grace sensed a pervading sense of death flowing from the water into the god.
“You are too late, Healer.” A tentacle touched her forehead. Startled, she glanced up. His words were jagged musical notes that translated as a breathy speech in her mind. “I will not live to swim my streams another day.”
“Do you know what ails you, my lord?”
“My waters are infested with I know not what. My creatures are dying, including the friend of that eel that seeks your assistance. Save your energy to help them.”
His gaze wandered toward his children and his tentacle slid down and wrapped around her neck before the tip touched her lips.
Grace tasted the poison there. The salty tang was tinged with a familiar flavor of the underworld’s dark magic. She moved the tentacle aside. Could the water god have been infected with the toxin that had injured his daughter? If so, was Adramelech also its source?
The water god gripped her shoulders and Grace gasped as he pulled her thoughts into him, taking her on a journey though lakes, rivers and streams, crossing England from west to east, flying above ground for the most part but occasionally dipping underground until finally they splashed into the Thames. From there they travelled beneath several bridges, skirting galleys and row boats until they reach the bank by the Tower of London. This was where the poison originated, where Hudson lay dying.
The water god released his hold on Grace and sank back into his shell, looking exhausted from the ordeal of sharing that information.
Without his support, she gasped and slid to the floor.
“Go,” he commanded, his misty sight lingering on his children. “Heal my world, before this insidious infection destroys all I love.”
She stood on shaky legs but instead of leaving, she sat back on the shell and placed her hand over his chest, trying to detect his heartbeat. She received the steady beat from that organ. The flow of energy was strongest there, where his blood pumped hardest.
With firm resolve, she sought out the minute specks of darkness infecting him. There were millions of those deadly dots. More flowed into him from the water. Slowly, Grace chased them from around his heart, and then from his body, back out through his pores and into the water. As soon as she released her hold on the water god, she sensed them swarming back to infect him.
He took a gasping breath and swooped up, looking vibrant again instead of pale and deathly.
Grace staggered away from the shell on shaky legs, envying the water’s god’s returned energy. She was entirely drained from that healing exercise.
“You are not cured, my lord,” she said by way of a warning, “merely revived. To properly heal you, we must find and halt this invasion of your waters. You are already becoming re-infected.” She glanced back at his son and daughter in the other room. “I am unclear why your children seem well. If all of Britain’s waterways are so poisoned, they, too, should be at death’s door.”
“They are not tied to my waters as I,” the water god said. “They will remain safe, until my passing. You have given me hope that I can withstand this assault until we can effect a permanent cure. You must hurry. Go. Find what is darkening my realm, Miss Adair, and eradicate it!”
As Grace turned to leave, Llyr and Llyn rushed into the room and swooped to hug their father, tentacles swarming around him. Grace, about to give this family time to celebrate their short-lived joy in private, noticed an eerie shadow in a corner that set her pulse hammering with alarm. Her unease rose as she caught a glimpse of a blade. She summoned Joy, who was instantly in her grip, thrumming with rising power.
The hooded shade raised a bony hand in peace and then a finger beckoned her closer.
She glanced into the other room. Dewer was at the window’s edge glaring at her, ordering her silently to come to him. He held out his hand, as if offering her assistance.
He must realize she would be weak after that healing. His offer was touching and she wanted to go to him, but not yet. Holding her left hand up to indicate she would be just a handful of minutes, she followed that bony summons.
The specter led her into a dark recess of the chamber. Had it come to collect the water god, and was now upset she had stolen its prize? It did not appear angry, though it was hard to tell much beneath that dark hood. She, instead, gained the impression it was merely anxious to converse.