Page 119 of Demonic Cage
Slowly, I extend my hand towards the water. I have to do this.
Drip. Drip.
My finger touches its surface. Coldness caresses my skin. I tense.
Drip. Drip.
Trembling, I immerse my finger in the water.
Drip.
I form a cup with my palm.
Nothing.
My underwater fingers freeze. I hear nothing. Everything freezes with me.
Then it bursts from the water. A damp, black, bony hand clasps my wrist and pulls me into the depths.
Water fills my lungs. I scream and kick as hard as I can. The naked monster wraps around me. It holds me at a distance, looking at me while grinning. Panic forces more water down my throat. I desperately try to break free.
Sharp nails slice my chest, and finally, I can breathe freely. I’m still underwater, but I’m getting oxygen as if I were on land. My cut-open chest moves like gills. My eyes widen.
Léthé wasn’t joking about her form. Ink-colored octopus tentacles sway around me and hold me captive. Her crystal-blue mermaid tail digs into the lake’s depths. Her gaze is twisted, two coral-colored membranes in place of ears pull her features upward. Her coffee-brown eyes are swollen like an insect’s. She’s not in her best condition.
Blue bruises mar her bronze skin, her eyes are broken, and her mouth looks dry even though we’re underwater. Maybe she’s only just escaped Darya’s torment.
I want to say something to her, but one of her tentacles wraps around my neck, and when I open my mouth to speak, she tightens her grip. I cough, and small bubbles rise before my face.
“Shut up, bitch, or I’ll tear your heart out!”
I don’t doubt it for a second, but with a choked voice, I speak anyway.
“I can’t even imagine,” I croak, “what Darya would do to you then.”
The grip on my neck tightens.
“What in Diávolo’s fiery hell are you doing here?” she hisses between her teeth, swaying like a snake. I notice, however, how much effort it takes for her to straighten up.
“I want to remember. You offered it once. Of course,” I cough, “you were choking me then too. I suppose it’s a fetish of yours.”
She hisses.
“I know why he likes you,” she sneers, “but you’d better know he’ll never love you back. Darya is incapable of love.”
As best I can, I laugh.
“That’s the difference between us, mermaid,” I croak. “I don’t care about Darya. Unlike you.”
Léthé’s plump lips curl into a mocking smile.
“Oh, of course! Keep lying to yourself! You’d better know, bitch, that the mad always fall in love with their medicine! It won’t be any different with you!”
I relax in her grip because I can read between the lines. She’s talking about my future; she doesn’t want to kill me. Darya would never forgive her for that.
“Are you going to continue to lecture me, or will you finally let go?”
Léthé snarls, but her grip loosens, and she eventually releases me. The octopus arms ripple back behind the mermaid. I try not to show how terrified I am, though my heart pounds in my ears.
