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At last, the seabed began to slope upwards. The myriad colours of the water through which Jarrod and his clan moved their people forward prismed with light. Jarrod’s thoughts moved to the waiting beach where his compliant helpers would leave the water. Were there many villagers there on the sands he wondered? He smiled as he imagined their horror...followed by their stunned capitulation. This would be fun.
Jarrod began to rise through the lightening water to the surface. And then gagged as a sensation like a hand reaching down his throat halted his ascent.
He jerked, trying to back away from the feeling. In his peripheral vision, he could see others of his clan, moving similarly, trying to break free of the invisible assault. The sensation slid into his chest like a web taking root. He was pinned, hovering helplessly. One by one, the connections which held his human companions safely to him were ripped loose.
Appalled, he watched those nearest to him, waiting helplessly to witness their convulsions when the ocean drowned them. Instead, each spasmed, a tremor shaking them for an instant. Then, free of the will by which he sustained them, the human host moved forward once more.
What was happening? Was this Hunter and his witch, ‘rescuing’ those he had spared a gruesome death and given nothing but pleasure? The rage that filled him burned more fiercely when he found he could give it no voice. This would not go unanswered. He would break free. He would destroy them.
Tentatively, cautiously, he felt with his mind along the revolting presence that still pinned him, following it patiently to its source. His eyes widened as he recognised the gloating delight when she sensed him. Thea.
Real fear gripped him when he felt himself moving slowly through the tide once more, against his will, towards the waiting shore.
