Page 61 of Sharpen Your Claws

Even without the sight of blood, she was too sick to conjure any strength. Fire wouldn’t bloom upon her fingers. She was cold and listless, dragged further into the depths, but something tugged on her ankle where pain throbbed.

Through the murk, a silhouette appeared, then silver light flickered, revealing Evera’s cruel snarl. Her nails pierced Charmaine’s ankle, having used the pain to wake her. In Evera’s other hand, the silver light coalesced into an orb like wildfire that even the water couldn’t snuff out. But when Evera opened her hand, that light lashed out with dozens of tiny strings that cut clean through the siren’s wrist.

Her ears popped when Evera yanked her and swam above to where the sunlight breached the water. She hacked and spit, her lungs struggling to take in air. Evera kicked toward the river’s edge where she hastily threw Charmaine onto the muck. Evera fell over her, heaving, clothes soaked through and clinging to her skin. Her breath caught, her eyes lingering too long on Evera’s chest. The fae caught her chin to bring them eye to eye. A wild smile spread across her cheeks.

“While I appreciate the admiration, we have more pressing matters than breasts,” Evera said. Charmaine tried arguing, but Evera cut her off, “Are you of sound mind or do I need to cut you again?”

The sirens continued to sing, making her brain fuzzy, but all she focused on were Evera’s midnight eyes, such a deep blue they bordered on black.

“I don’t think so,” she replied, not for the same reason, anyway.

She wished Evera could hit her a few times to get that image out of her mind, of the perfect woman she yearned to be, that the siren unwillingly snatched from the deepest recesses of her mind. The thought was one thing, a desire, but to see it below so real, right at her fingertips, dug the pain deeper than ever before.

“Good, because your friend is about to drown.” Evera leapt off her, leaving Charmaine to realize that she didn’t see Henry anywhere.

“Shit.” She dragged herself further from the water, trying to call upon flames that wouldn’t obey her. The shimmer sickness had zapped her of strength, leaving her as nothing more than a worthless husk on the river side. If anything happened to Henry, William would be beyond distraught.

The river rippled outward, causing waves to lap against the sides. She dragged herself forward, otherwise the strength of the waves would take her under. Then from the center, Henry burst out nearly twenty feet above the water, arms and legs flailing. Evera popped out of the water too, half laughing. Wind caught beneath Henry’s open palms, sending him away from the water to roll across the grass near Charmaine.

“You mortal mages have some interesting tricks up your sleeves,” said Evera while she swam. Behind her, the sirens peeked through the water, glaring.

“Be careful,” Charmaine croaked.

Evera walked onto the grass to ring out her hair. “Oh, they won’t bother us after wasting all that energy, although we should hurry. Those are young ones, spiteful and weak, and probably why I didn’t sense them. Their parents, however, won’t let us escape so easily.”

“They’re quite feisty for being that young, though I suppose that is why they messed up,” Henry coughed up water, then he held out his satchel. He pointed his palm out to summon the wind to dry it off.

Evera knelt by Charmaine, signaling for her to get on her back. She flushed, thinking of their wet clothes, how she’d feel Evera’s body pressed against hers, and vice versa. It made her stomach twist into a painful knot.

“Did they show you something that wasn’t of interest?” asked Evera.

“They were off to a good start by putting me into a library, but then a naked woman showed up.” Henry laughed and came over to dry them off with his wind. Charmaine was thankful, and a tad confused about why a naked woman would have been what broke the siren’s spell. “Well, I’m grateful, although it seemed like you were also on your way to save me. I appreciate that, Evera.”

She waved him off, then pointed at Charmaine. “Help me with her.”

Henry caught her under the arms to ease her onto Evera’s back. At least they were dry, and she was too exhausted to do more than lean against Evera.

“Let’s find our lost companions, shall we?” Henry asked, then wandered toward the bridge, but not before giving the sirens a harsh glare that sent them diving into the river.

21

William

Branchescreakedandcracked.Darkness fell, an inky black to absorb all life. William and Nicholas held one other, their pulses mirrored. Their death would be in darkness, mercifully unseen, albeit heard as the forest breathed around them. The trees laughed, an eerie sound to chill the soul. Then all went silent.

He dared not to breathe. His lungs ached, wishing to expand, choosing to risk death rather than the eldritch beast’s malice. Pale blue light passed through forest leaves, but those leaves did not hang from the branches. They warped beneath the call of a darker and ancient entity, fluttering above their head where a great eye formed, then another, and another, and another, until hundreds of beady eyes coated in grime and worms gazed upon them. From the soil, little white hands no larger than a child’s sprouted and wiggled. Their thin fingers slithered through the dirt to wrap around his ankles. Their chill seeped through his clothes, a cold like death.

Normally, he would fight against them, tear those hands from the person and the soil. However, even he understood they were part of a beast unlike any other. He need not learn more about The One Who Waits to comprehend that it was beyond anything, that perhaps even Fearworn would have trembled under its many watchful eyes.

“Trespassers,” the eyes spoke all at once. Their voices were many carried as one, causing the forest to shake.

He didn’t comprehend what he looked upon, if any of it was real or a fabrication, an illusion from the forest itself. His thoughts lurched, grappling for answers that weren’t there. Every moment he drifted further into madness.

“We do not trespass of our own volition. None would dare go against The One Who Waits,” Nicholas said impassively, then gave the slightest tilt of his lips, taunting in a way. “And yet, someone has.”

He put a painful squeeze on Nicholas’ chest, not much different from the ghostly hands. Their nails, coated in dirt, pinched the skin, threatening to draw blood.

The last path they should take was to piss off what had caught them. Nicholas held firm to the one eye above them, the biggest one blinding to gaze upon.

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