Page 60 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

I didn’t know if I’d made it.

I didn’t know anything except pain, the soul-deep, bone resonating, I’d-throw-up-if-I-had-the-energy pain that said I had pushed it too far, that even an inch didn’t matter as much as carrying three, that I might have just done like a couple of the old Pythias I’d had to learn about at Gertie’s who had disappeared after channeling too much power and were never heard from again.

Probably because they were in little pieces.

“Oh, God,” I whimpered.

Someone was yelling at me, but I couldn’t tell who, couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t concentrate on anything except pain—

Until suddenly I could, and realized with a stomach seizing lurch that that had all been for nothing. Because we were out in the dark ocean all right, but ringed by the fey, who had escaped the disintegrating course, too, because they understood this stuff better than I did. And because they’d been rending the half-made spell just fine earlier.

Like they were about to rend us, and I guess they wanted us to see it coming because they’d called up balls of spell light that glimmered over their features like the torches a medieval mob would have carried. I could see it spangling their skin and evil, mirth-filled eyes. They were going to enjoy this. . .

Or not, I thought, as Pinkie lashed out, plunging one of those soft little tentacles straight through the nearest fey’s chest.

It emerged from the other side in a cloud of blood and the approximate shape of a spear, his still-beating heart suspended on the tip of it. Triple points for style, Pinkie, I thought dizzily. But it wasn’t going to matter in a minute.

And it wasn’t. And neither was Pritkin, behind them and letting loose a barrage against the shields the fey casually threw up that seemed to do nothing. I saw his face, staring at me through Pinkie’s wavering hide; I saw Enid, searching my eyes, hoping against hope that I had one trick left; I saw my haggard face in the shiny reflection of all those lights and knew I didn’t.

And then I saw something else.

I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was boiling up from underneath us like a black cloud from an undersea volcano. I couldn’t see any flashes of fire or golden, molten rock. I couldn’t see anything but a spreading miasma that made the dark water around it look as bright as day.

And then I didn’t see anything at all.

Chapter Eighteen

The first time I woke up, it was to the smell of something wonderful wafting around my nose. I tried to reach for it, but my hand didn’t work. Or rather, it did; it just felt like it couldn’t get out from under the boulder that was sitting on it.

And my chest.

And my legs.

And my face.

I also had the impression that my mouth was hanging open at an unflattering angle, but I couldn’t seem to close it or stop drooling.

God, whatever that was smelled good!

It tasted good, too, when a spoon of it touched my lips. Like some kind of rich, spicy fish stew, which I could really get into right about now if my mouth would cooperate. It seemed to be having problems, maybe because my brain was still fuzzy, but my stomach was not, and, as usual, my stomach won.

“Don’t swallow so fast,” Pritkin’s voice came to my ears as I got the initial spoonful down and then practically face-planted into the bowl.

I didn’t care; it was delicious. I found that my hands did work, if shakily, at least well enough to upend the bowl and gulp down the contents, sight unseen. It tasted amazing, and my grumbly stomach, which hadn’t shut up in longer than I could remember, suddenly mellowed out and almost purred.

Warmth and contentment spread through me, and I clutched the warm, muscly body holding me like I would have a man-shaped teddy bear. He was fuzzy enough. I could tell since my cheek had landed on his chest, which was still bare.

I approved, I decided, and drifted back to sleep without a worry in the world.

The second time I awoke, my man pillow was missing, and I was cold. I was also being talked to by someone I couldn’t see because my eyelids were all gummed up. I flailed around ineffectually for a minute.

“They say you’re a goddess,” someone said almost accusingly.

I tried to say not even close, but my throat didn’t cooperate. After several tries, I managed to sit up and sprawled against a rocky wall behind me. It was rough and added a few bruises to my collection, but I didn’t care much right then.

“Not even close,” I finally got out, rubbing my goopy eyes.

God, I felt like death.

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