Page 39 of Blood on the Tide

On instinct, I whip out my magic, intending to bring it to its knees so I have easier access to its neck. But instead of feeling the familiar sensation of taking hold of another being’s blood... my magic finds nothing to latch onto. What the fuck?

No time to wonder what this freakish creature has running through its veins. It charges toward the helm, intent on Alix and Rin. “Oh no you don’t.” I sprint to meet it, heading it off before it can snatch my navigator.

It sees me coming and changes course, the pounding of its claw-hooves making the deck shake beneath my bare feet. I gather myself and spring up, aiming for its head. If I can wrap my body around it then I can—

It pivots, moving even faster than I’m capable of in midmotion. Certainly faster than I can counter. Instead of meeting its head, I land sprawled across its back. That’s fine. I can work with this. I just need to—

It’s magic takes hold and pins my arms and legs to either side of its broad body. I fight against the invisible bonds holding me in place, but there’s nothing to fight against. Trapped. I thrash as much as I’m able, but it’s as if I’m glued to its muscular back. It twists, and I know where it’s headed before it takes its first step. “No!” Not the water. Not the depths. Not the thing I fear most in the world.

As if sensing my fear and feeding off it, the massive kelpie screams in triumph and it leaps over the side of the ship, taking me with it. I don’t even get one last look at Maeve in the crow’s nest before the water closes over my head.

chapter 19

Maeve

My breath turns to stone in my lungs when the kelpie takes Lizzie over the edge and into the water. She’s going to die. More than that, she’ll be terrified when it happens. I can’t let her go. Not yet. Not like this.

My body takes over. There’s no time for my brain to provide all the ways this is suicidal. There’s only motion. I throw myself from the crow’s nest with every bit of strength I have, propelling myself well outside of the range of the ship and drawing my skin close around my body as I fall. My stomach is in my throat. I’ll only get one chance at this.

I shift in the air, my body growing and morphing. It feels like stretching after spending hours in a cramped space. Even now, even with panic screaming through my mind, there’s a sliver of joy in the ability to do this.

I dive into the surface of the water face-first, my body narrowing to take advantage of the momentum of the fall.

I fully expected the water horse to drag Lizzie into the depths, but it’s a handful of yards below the surface. Just deep enough to drown. She’s trapped on its back, its magic holding her in place despite her struggles. And she is struggling. Blood saturates the water around them as she drives her fingers into the water horse’s side again and again. It’s not nearly enough.

She has a few minutes. Maybe a few seconds.

I charge through the water in their direction, pouring every bit of strength I have into pure speed. The water horse is easily twice my size, but it’s distracted with the vampire attached to its back. More than that, its horse shape is made for running on hard surfaces. I am made for the deep.

I’ll only get one chance to strike unchallenged before it’s an all-out fight. I have to make it count. I dive deeper, coming up from below, where it won’t expect an attack. Lizzie sees me first and her crimson eyes go wide. There’s no time to reassure her. No time for anything.

I hit the water horse in the stomach hard enough to spin it toward the surface. Even over the roaring in my ears, I hear its pained cry. It’s so fast. It turns almost instantly and lashes at me with its hind claws. I dodge out of the way easily. This is a fearsome beast, but I am not prey.

I twist around it, distracting it as best I can as I wait for another opening. I can hold my breath for a prolonged period of time, but I don’t think Lizzie is able to. She’s a vampire, but vampires are mammals just like humans. She can’t go without oxygen indefinitely. Not like the water horse can.

I charge again, though this time I don’t have quite as much speed behind me. It doesn’t matter. My entire body is a weapon and my teeth are just as sharp as the kelpie’s. I dodge another kick and rip into its hindquarters. It screams in pain again, but it hasn’t released Lizzie.

Blood clogs the water. It’s in my mouth, thick and coppery and not enough. I have to save her. We’re running out of time. Distantly, fear clamors that we’re going to draw bigger and more fearsome predators if we’re not fast. There’s no time to worry about that now. I have to save Lizzie. We have to kill the water horse, or at least drive it off and save the crew and the ship.

Overhead, the Serpent’s Cry continues to cut away from us, the crew running for their lives. Of course they are. They’re not warriors. They owe no allegiance to us. They’re hoping that the water horse is too busy murdering us to come after them. I don’t blame Alix and the rest of them for that choice, but I have no interest in dying today. Or letting Lizzie drown.

The kelpie spins to face me, its fangs snapping closed inches from my side. I barely twist out of the way in time and slap it with my tail.

It startles back and shudders. I get a glimpse of Lizzie wrenching herself off its back, its magic obviously waning as its distraction increases. But instead of pushing off and rushing for the surface, she clings to its neck and drives her fingers into its throat. The water horse lets out a shriek that I can feel in my bones, but I don’t stop to feel sorry for it.

It’s us or the kelpie.

I dive for the back of its neck, using my bigger body to knock Lizzie free as I sink my teeth into the top of its spine and twist and spin and wrench as hard as I can. Once, twice, a third time. On the fourth, its spine snaps and the creature goes still. I push it farther down into the depths, hoping that any other predators in the area will go after the body instead of us.

I sweep back up, coming beneath Lizzie’s flailing body. She wraps her arms around me and I swim as quickly as I can to the surface. Her gasping breath is music to my ears. We survived. But we need to get out of the water, and we need to do it now. It’s not safe. The dead water horse will draw other predators, and we need to be well away from here when that happens.

I’m not able to speak in this form, but Lizzie eases her grip on me so that I can swim easier and tow her to the ship. It takes a matter of seconds. But the entire time, I’m paranoid that something will rise from the depths and attempt to take a bite out of us.

As we come even with the Serpent’s Cry, I fully expect the crew to ignore us—or try to finish what the water horse started. But Rin leans over the railing and tosses down a rope to trail in the water before us. Lizzie wastes no time wrapping it around her waist. Ze pulls her up onto the deck with quick movements, far stronger than zir lean body suggests. Less than a minute later, Lizzie is back safely aboard the ship.

Now it’s my turn.

It wasn’t until I’d regained my skin that I realized exactly how much I’d lost alongside it. How much strength and speed, how much confidence. Even now, days later, I’m not entirely certain how much of that was actually physical or mental. Regardless of the cause, I’m easily able to scale the side of the ship and vault over the railing to land on the deck at Lizzie’s side. She’s on her hands and knees, coughing up water.

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