Page 69 of The Fae Menagerie
"I thought you were dead."
"I told you I wouldn't die."
"You didn't move when the viewing bell rang."
"I …" He frowned. "I didn't hear it. Fuck. I'll be right back. Stay here."
I nodded. What choice did I have? I wiggled on my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Before too long, it wouldn't matter. The water was only a few inches from the top of the couch now.
"Fuck!" Doyle's shout sounded further away than the bedroom. A moment later, he returned through the library door. "The entire enclosure is empty, except this fucking couch."
I glanced around the room. The two side tables, the only other furniture in the viewing room, had vanished. In my rush to wake Doyle, I hadn't even noticed.
As soon as the couch went under, it also disappeared, dropping me into the water. I fell backward, barely catching my breath in time before the icy water swallowed me whole.
I was used to this, I reminded myself. My dad had loved to throw me in the pool wearing all my clothes, even back when I was still in diapers. He thought it was hilarious to make his bodyguards dive in after me, scooping me up off the bottom of the pool, or simply helping me out once I knew how to float. I found my bearings, kicked off my sodden shoes, since they only slowed me down, and made my way back to the surface. I could still stand on the bottom and breathe. I would tread water, when necessary, but it wasn't time yet.
Still, we had a long way to go. I would need to tread water for hours before we got close enough to the top of the enclosure to grab the edges.
"There aren't any sharks in the menagerie, are there?" I'd binged on shark movies one summer, so much so that I had convinced myself they would swim up pool drains.
"No sharks," Doyle confirmed, though his gaze snapped to the west. "I'll be right back."
I opened my mouth to protest and inhaled water. Fuck. I tried to recline onto my back to float, but I couldn't find my balance. Worried my clothes were dragging me down, I pulled them off, but still no luck.
When Doyle finally returned, he found me treading water in my boxers.
"I can't float!" I tried again, kicking up and attempting to level my body on top of the water, but I continued to sink.
"You're human," he said. "You don't float in fae water."
Water was water, right?
"You remember how humans would toss witches into lakes tied to giant stones, saying if they were proper witches, they would float?"
I nodded as I returned to a steady dog paddle.
"That's because they caught a fae once, and the fae floated and escaped. Water in the human realm is denser than fae water. We rise to the top, even when tied to stones."
That was horrifying. They'd murdered so many innocent people that way, all because they'd feared magic.
"I can't swim forever, Doyle."
He nodded. "I'll float, and you can hang onto me."
He flipped onto his wings, spreading them like a raft. I latched onto the fabric of his garment at his thigh, not wanting to touch his warm skin. Shit. Doyle already felt warm to me.
"How cold is this water?"
He turned his head toward me, assessing. "Too cold." He sank down into the water, his graceful twists and turns not disturbing the surface. Slowly, he walked until he was behind me, my back propped against his chest, his hands moving over the gooseflesh on my arms.
"That feels nice. You're warm."
"I'm not warm enough," he muttered. "Stay with me, Parker. If you start to feel drowsy, tell me and I'll try to get you out."
"Sure you will." My words and sarcastic laughter sounded drunk, even to me. My teeth started chattering a moment later, and I clung to Doyle's arms, trying to pull his warmth into me.
Eventually, my teeth stopped chattering. I knew I should be concerned, but I couldn't find a single care. My consciousness dimmed to the sensation of Doyle's skin against mine and his warmth sinking into me.
