Except that hed been hurt pulling me back from whatever horror Id somehow imagined behind what was most definitely solid rock. I couldnt remember, but that much I knew. Hed been trying to save me, and for that I owed him something.
I edged closer to him, and the heat seared me. I felt tears form in my eyes, and blinked them away impatiently. Crying wouldnt do any good. If I leaned over and let them fall on him, they would sizzle and evaporate like water on a skillet.
Oh, hell, I muttered disgustedly, wiping them away. You shouldnt have to die, no matter what you did to me. I moved closer, and my face felt sunburned. God help me, dont fucking die on me, I said desperately.
The sudden flash of light was blinding, thunder shaking the ground, and I was thrown back against the stone wall. Panic swept through mewhat if it opened again; what if this time he couldnt save me? I scrambled away from it, then turned to look for the dying man, and I knew I was hallucinating again.
His body was surrounded by a circle of tall figures, shrouded in mist, and there were wings everywhere. Maybe hed died. They must be angels coming to take him . . . where?
One of them picked him up effortlessly, impervious to the heat of his flesh. I was frozen, unable to move. Sure, he was dead and on his way to heaven, but I had no strong desire to accompany him. I wanted to live.
But I could feel eyes on me, and I wondered if I could run for it. And I wondered if I really wanted to.
Bring her. The words werent spoken out loud; they seemed to vibrate inside my head. I was prepared to fight, prepared to run before I let them put their hands on me, before I let it happen all over again . . . but there was nothing but a blinding white light, followed by dark silence, as a blackness deep and dark as death pulled in about me.
Shit, I said weakly. And I was gone.
I WAS COLD. AND DAMP. I could hear a strange sound, a rushing noise almost like the ocean, but there was no ocean in the forest, was there? I really didnt want to move, even though I was lying somewhere hard and wet, the dampness seeping through my clothes and into my bones. In my Swiss cheese of a memory, it felt as if every time I opened my eyes things had gotten worse. This time I was going to stay put with my eyes tightly shutit was a lot safer that way.
I licked my lips and tasted salt. There were voices in the distance, a low, muffled chant in a language older than time.
Keep your eyes closed, goddamn it . This had all been one hellacious nightmare, and clearly it wasnt time to wake up. Once I could feel my comfortable bed and my five-hundred-thread-count cotton sheets beneath me, then it would be safe to wake up. Right now consciousness was nothing but more trouble, and I had had enough.
But all my self-discipline had been reserved for my writing, and when it came to anything else, like denying my curiosity, I had the willpower of a rabbit. I decided to open my eyes just a slit to verify that, yes, I really was lying in wet sand at the edge of a rocky beach. And out in the waves the men stood waist-deep in the water, holding the body of my . . . my what? My kidnapper? My savior? It didnt matter what the hell he was, he was mine.
He wasnt dead. I knew this as I struggled to my feet, my whole body feeling as if it had been kicked around by monkeys. He wasnt deadyet they were letting him sink beneath the surface as they chanted some kind of garbled nonsense. They were letting him drown, burying him in the sea, and I was not going to let that happen, not after working so hard to keep him alive last night.
Im not sure whether I said something, screamed No! as I raced toward them. Out into the icy water, shoving past them as they let his body go, diving for him before he could sink beneath the turbulent waves.
It was only when my hand touched
him beneath the water, felt him turn and his hand catch mine, that I conveniently remembered that I had never learned to swim.
The words came out of nowhere, dancing in my head:
Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.
The words were muzzy, dreamlike, but now I was the one sinking. What an idiot Id been, diving after him. I was going to die after all, and it was no ones fault but mine. I should have known Id hear Shakespeare when I died.
I would suffer a sea change, entwined with the demon lover beneath the cold salt sea, and I welcomed it, dazed, when his mouth closed over mine beneath the briny surface, his breath flowing into me, my body plastered against his as I felt life return. A moment later I found myself propelled to the surface, still trapped in the dead mans arms. The dead man who had pulled his mouth away, and was looking down at me from those strange, silvery black eyes.
Then we were standing waist-deep in the ocean, the waves breaking against us, and he was holding on to me as he looked to the men who had brought him here, a dazed, questioning expression on his face.