Page 47 of Caging Darling

This time, the cold isn’t quite as shocking, so I’m able to hold my breath for longer. I don’t let the water in, not immediately. I want to have time to panic more completely.

Pain bursts in vibrant flames in my lungs. They grapple with my mind to take control, begging me to breathe, impartial to the substance.

My lungs want air so badly they’ll happily take the counterfeit, even if it kills them.

I understand the feeling.

It’s when my lungs run out of air that the true panic sets in. I grasp at Tink’s wrists, trying to cue her to pull me out. I don’t want to do this. She’s going to hold me under too long, and I’ll drown. We should have agreed on a time.

But Tink doesn’t let go. She just shoves me more forcefully underneath the waves.

No, no, no. She’s going to kill me, after all. Just like I wanted her to only a few weeks ago.

But I’m too much of a coward to die. I don’t imagine anything good awaits me on the other side.

My body takes hold of the reins. My mouth opens of its own accord, and water floods me. Needles erupt from my lungs, puncturing them from the inside out. I push up against the sandy floor with my feet, but this time, there’s no surface. Not with Tink’s hands in my hair, pushing me further down. I scratchat her wrists, silently pleading with her to let me up for a breath of air, but she doesn’t.

Black specks corner my vision, appearing as if they’re swimming about me in the moonlit water.

I’m sorry, Michael, I think to my brother, reaching out to him in my mind.

And just as the blackness encompasses me, I feel a tug at my hair. Water gives way to salty air, burning at my nostrils, my mouth. My lungs fit, spewing water everywhere. I keep coughing, and even when nothing comes out, it’s as if my body still isn’t convinced we’ve purged ourselves of all the water.

Tink holds me close, my back to her chest so I have room to expunge the water, but she’s carrying me back to the shore, my legs almost completely limp.

When we get to the beach, she lowers me to my knees, slapping my back to assist. When I’m finally done, snot and saltwater still clinging to my nose, my sinuses and lungs on fire, I take in a breath.

Even breathing hurts. But there’s an absence there. The water wasn’t the only thing expelled.

The faerie dust is gone, used up with the adrenaline as my body fought to keep itself alive.

Tink softly takes my chin and lifts it upward. I gasp at what I see.

Wraiths gather around us on the beach. So many of them, I wonder if they’ll swarm us. But they simply watch.

And then one steps forward from the rest. He makes a motion as if he’s pushing at the bridge of his nose.

Like he’s adjusting his glasses.

CHAPTER 17

Ilet out a sob, and it hurts worse than drowning.

“It’s about time I was able to reach you,” says John. “I’ve only been trying for over a year.”

I laugh, and it scrapes against my throat even as my tears sting against my cheek. I want nothing but to throw my arms around my brother, but it’s not my brother, only his memory. One composed of a moment of extreme pain in his soul.

Sadness washes over the relief of hearing his voice as I remember why my brother is dead in the first place. Whatever pained him so badly he took his own life, I have a feeling I’m about to find out.

“I missed you so much,” is all I manage to say.

John’s wraith squats down. I get the sense he’s looking me in the eye. “I’ve missed you, too. I’d much rather ramble to you than the thin air, even if you were only pretending to be listening half the time.”

I’d smile if I thought I could continue to hold in my sobs. Tink, next to me, grabs my shoulders and helps me stand.

“I could see Astor’s wraith,” I say, confused. “I don’t understand. Why couldn’t I see you?”

“Astor’s wraith is slightly more belligerent than the rest of us,” John says. He fidgets like he always has when he’s lying.

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