Page 52 of The Dead Saint

Something huge and rough wrapped around her ankle, jerking her down and dragging her farther beneath the surface. She fought against it, kicking out, but the grip tightened. Sorcha looked down and met a pair of strange eyes, wide and flat and dark, the face and body thin and rocky. A collection of stones brought to life—a cairn taken human form.

Its grip moved from her ankles to her knees, then her thighs, hips, and finally to her waist. It brought her closer, their faces almost touching. She struggled, inhaling water in a gasp, and terrible pressure built in her chest. Then the creature moved, propelling them deeper down, farther into the lake. Sorcha choked and inhaled more water, fighting the creature, desperate for air and the surface. But it held tight as the world went dark.

Chapter Fifteen

Cold stone floor. Smooth beneath her fingertips. Pain behind her eyes, lungs burning.

She coughed raggedly, expelling water as her stomach cramped.

“A waste of good water.” The voice was gravelly—grating stones and shifting fault lines.

She rolled onto her side, trembling, fighting the urge to moan or yelp with fright.

The creature sat beside her, legs crossed, hands on its knees. It leaned closer, peering into her face, on the verge of touching her without bridging those last few inches.

“You’re the Lacus,” Sorcha whispered.

She’d heard the stories, as all children had, of a lake guardian made of the bones of the earth, a creature who could give or take away, fortune or misfortune held like a pebble in the palm of one four-fingered hand. A fitting caretaker for something as precious as the Saint.

“And you are either brave or stupid to trespass. Or possibly both. I have not decided.”

Sorcha pushed up on one arm, her clothes clinging to her, her damp surroundings sinking in. It was a cave with a pool of water to her left and a light high on the ceiling. Not daylight. Something magical, something unreal—shimmering suggestion of the sun. There was nothing else in the space except the pool, the light, the creature, and herself.

“I’ve come to ask you for something,” she said, knowing in her heart it was not that simple.

The creature’s face moved, but she could not read the expression—living stone with flat eyes, body language impossible to understand.

“I have nothing for you,” the creature said.

“But you have something for the Saint.”

It hissed and stood abruptly, moving away from her—stones grinding. She moved slowly, carefully, worried that it would pounce on her if she surprised it.

“It’s not yours to take.”

Sorcha pushed back the sleeve on her dress, exposing tattooed skin. “You don’t have a choice. I’ve come to collect him.”

“And if I refuse, Oracle?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” The creature turned, pacing. “Nothing means nothing. Something would happen—would come. Nothing is a lie.”

“It’s not my lie. I don’t know what would happen. I would be dead.”

“And with your death, he would walk again.”

Sorcha swallowed, mouth dry despite the water all around them. Kahina Kira had shared very little of what might be required of her. Only those higher up within the Aureum Sanctus knew everything. The others believed and trusted she would do the right thing by them. But it would mean her death. She’d refused to contemplate it until now, forced to see it and embrace it. Or run. Become a traitor to those she’d loved.

“That’s what I’ve been taught.”

“But not what you believe?”

“My belief is unimportant.”

The creature stopped with its back to her, controlled anger almost visible between them, a volcano on the verge of exploding. Sorcha held her breath. There was no escape here. She had no idea where exactly she was or how she might be able to reach the lake shore again. Even then, she would come back empty-handed if she could not convince Lacus to help her.

Do you really want his help? The question threaded through her mind, weaving between her guilt and sense of obligation. Yes! Of course I do, she thought. But even in the privacy of her head, those words felt hollow.

---