Page 4 of Curse the Fae

Or the presence of another.

From around the bend, the wet slap of footfalls resounds. I fist my weapon and barely have time to paddle to the boat, where I hide behind its girth. Dunking myself beneath the frame would be better, but no sooner do I reach the vessel than a large body fills the adjacent tunnel to capacity. I peek around the boat.

And I see him.

A water Fae.

The figure is tall, dark, and male. There’s no mistaking the shape and size of that chiseled, masculine body. With his back to me, he strides into the vaporous corridor, his gait fluid yet aggressive, like a predator moving effortlessly through liquid. The Fae walks as though he would sooner step on anything that obstructs his path, rather than slip around it.

I hold my breath. Since I know how to do that well, it’s my only source of protection, the only way to keep myself from being noticed. Because Faeries possess heightened senses, I can only pray to Fables this creature won’t smell me, if not hear me.

An ebony hooded robe hangs off the brackets of his shoulders. As far as I can tell, the front panels are open rather than discreetly cinched. The thin garment puddles to the ground and drags like smoke across the floor, the material as black as eventide. Despite the lanterns, he carries darkness with him, his physique swathed in an utter absence of light.

Another male with hair the color of algae materializes from the sidelines, his form as thin as an eel’s. Above the silken pants, his torso is bare, and he balances a halberd in his grip.

Like a guard, he bows to the larger, hooded figure. “Sire.”

But the dark Fae doesn’t stop, merely stalks past the guard without a response other than a dismissive sweep of fingers, the tips flashing like metallic jewels. For some reason, those digits extend to sketch the nearest wall as he moves.

Sire.

My heartbeat had been slamming into my chest at a rapid tempo, but now it stops. I cling like a barnacle to the boat. From within me, a tsunami breaks loose, blood ravaging my insides.

If he’s calledSire…and if that means…what I think it means…

Too soon, I expel the breath I’d been holding. Too late, I realize this mistake.

It happens just after the guard vanishes, leaving the cavern empty but for the two of us, which provides more space for sounds to travel, for my mistake to be heard. In spite of the distance, my exhalation takes on greater volume, at least to the preying ears of a villain.

The figure halts midstep.

Although he stops walking, nothing about him signals hesitation. Because the instant he registers the noise, the water Fae moves again. With his hand still extended toward the wall, his knuckles curl as though catching the released breath and then suffocating it. Instead of turning, he lashes his arm toward a trickle of water leaking from the ceiling and dices his fingers through the fluid, his gesture intentional. Then he drops his arm and continues slithering down the cavern while etching the wall, as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

That’s when the water reacts, the surface agitating around me. And that’s when I feel the tug. And that’s when the water yanks me back under.

My mouth opens, liquid clogging my throat. The pool becomes a riptide, seizing my limbs and hurling my weight in an unknown direction. With a force of a rapid, it pulls me like detritus and throws me over another unseen precipice.

I fall into a second drop, careening down a slide flanked by rocks. The slide veers into sudden curves, this way and that, so sharp I nearly catapult into the rocks and lose my hold on the spear. The chute barrels into several dips and more twists, my body lashed by the sting of water.

I plow through a curtain of wet plants. At which point, the slide ends, and I soar into the air.

The freefall is quick, my limbs scissoring before I crash. I’m under for only a second before the momentum propels me back up. I’ve landed in the liquid basin of a modest-sized cavern.

Anxious, I pat around my throat, searching, praying. Relief washes through me when my fingers land on the dainty gold links draped across my neck. By a stroke of fortune, I hadn’t lost the necklace.

My spear rides the water several feet away. Desperate, I breaststroke across the distance to catch it, but a ravenous thrust of water gets there first, suctioning the weapon beneath the surface.

“No!” I shout, then dunk myself under.

In contrast to the humidity and tepid water thus far, this pool is so chilled, it leeches every drop of warmth from my bones. My eyes open to scan the depth. The visibility is better here, revealing aquamarine water and rocky projections embroidered in vermillion moss.

My intricate bun has unraveled, the layers plastered to my cheeks. However, the hem of my dress is still knotted, enabling my legs to move freely. I swish about, hunting for a weapon inlaid with iron.

The subterranean colors are as brilliant as gems. They saturate the atmosphere, from the richest green to the brightest blue. I swim into a beam of light piercing from above, which enhances my vision further.

Something slick grazes my heel, a fin passing across my flesh in one clean swoop. I reel backward, dread creeping along my skin. In my world, I would be excited by such a moment. But in this world, my muscles tense, thoughts of sea creatures from the Book of Fables manifesting in my head.

Fish and mammals with fangs and razor teeth. Fauna that can shift sizes, from diminutive to unearthly.

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