Page 88 of Bishop's Flight
The last thought in her mind was a desperate plea to her amnis.
Not the boy!
Then Brigid heard a pop as the room split apart and shattering glass in the bathroom before everything went red.
Twenty-Seven
Carwyn stood when he heard it, nearly falling over in the buffeting wind. “There!”
Bernard was already shouting. “Where was it? Get me the pilots in the helicopter, damn it. Get them on the phone now!”
Carwyn nearly jumped into the water before he stopped and bellowed in rage and frustration. “Zasha!”
“Carwyn, sit down!” Bernard pulled at his shoulder. “There are two people in the air—they’ll be there in moments.”
And looking for the boy, not his wife.
For the first time in a long time, Carwyn desperately wished his old ally Tenzin were around. She was the strongest wind vampire he knew, and she’d have been able to fly into any wreckage and pick up his mate.
He felt helpless on the water. There was no element for him to pull power from, and his raw human strength wasn’t enough.
There was another explosion in the distance and he closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the heavens.
Don’t let us be too late.
In that moment, Carwyn knew he should care about the child, but all he could think about was Brigid in the middle of an explosion that Zasha had directed at her, burning in the element that gave her life.
He reached into the darkness for their bond, but all he felt was emptiness.
Everything was black.
Brigid woke in cold blackness, her body curled into the fetal position and her feet touching the muddy bottom of the lake as pieces of metal sank slowly in the barely perceptible light.
What happened?
Boat. Explosion.
She had caused the explosion.
Lucas!
Brigid pushed off from the bottom of the lake, surfaced, and coughed out the water that had flooded her lungs when she blacked out. She immediately looked around, puking water and blood as her eyes scanned the white-capped chop. “Lucas.”
Her voice was barely audible to her own ears.
She coughed again. “Lucas!”
The wreckage of the houseboat was burning, allowing light to touch the black surface of the lake. Pieces of doors and walls floated. Bits of foam drifted in the air, and the remains of the houseboat rocked violently in the wake.
“Lucas!”
Brigid didn’t see Zasha, but there was a body floating in the distance. It was too big to be Lucas. Henrik?
Brigid turned to the sound of splashing and saw a familiar dark head surface and cough.
“Lucas!” She swam toward him, pulling through the water to reach the boy. “Are you hurt?”
He turned toward her, face a mask of shock and confusion. “You blew up the boat.”
