Page 52 of Heir of Illusion

Water floods my mouth as I release a scream of rage. In some distant corner of my mind, I recognize the voice. I understand the meaning behind his words.

I know exactly whose hand holds me under.

My legs still kick, but not as forcefully. Fatigue is settling into my aching muscles. I always believed water could extinguish any flame, but the heat in my lungs burns me from the inside out. My grip on the man above me slips right before my hand splashes back into the water. I want to reach for him again, but I can’t think past the pressure in my head.

The temptation to fill my lungs is too great to be denied.

Tired of fighting, I give in to that deep, gnawing urge.

I breathe the water in, then out.

It’s just like breathing air, only heavier somehow. My lips twitch with the ghost of a smile as the fire inside of me finally dies.

The hand that was holding me lets go, but instead of floating to the surface, I sink below the depths. The water welcomes me into its cold embrace, as if I belong here. Maybe I do? Now that I’ve stopped thrashing about, I see a few fish swimming in the distance. Their iridescent scales flicker pretty colors as the sun hits them.

My heavy lids fight to stay open, but sleep calls to me. If Clara finds out I’m napping, she’ll be angry. She says ten is too old to still take naps every day. But Clara will never think to search for me down here. It’s the perfect hiding spot.

Something large splashes at the surface, and a dark shape moves toward me. As it gets closer, I recognize my brother’s face. The final image I see before my eyes drift shut is Bel’s hand reaching for me, but a dark voice whispers that he’s too late.

I’m already gone.

I shootup in my bed, desperate for the air I’d been denied in my dream.

My original fear.

My first haunting.

I catch my dim reflection in the mirror across the room. My chest heaves against the white nightgown, and messy, unbound hair crowds my face. Staring into my amber eyes, I recite my familiar lies.

“It was just a nightmare.”

It wasn’t.

“The past cannot touch me here in the present.”

Yes, it can.

“This will be the last time.”

It never is.

Chapter

Fifteen

One good thing about the Lowers is its proximity to the water. A cool breeze moves through the district, carrying the briny scent of the fish market. The sun peeks its shy head over the horizon, sending orange and pink beams reflecting across the sea. They stretch toward the coast but never meet it.

The streets aren’t crowded yet, relieving me of the need to become invisible. Leaning next to the front entrance of the pub, I feel strangely exposed. I think I’ve come to rely on my invisibility too much as of late, using it as a crutch. I’ve reveled in the comfort of anonymity to the point that being visible, even without an audience, sets my nerves on edge. Revealing myself right now is an exercise in control.

“This is healthy,” I whisper as I push my toes into the ground to stop my knees from twitching.

“If you’re talking about getting breakfast at the pub, I’d have to disagree,” an amused voice says.

Pushing away from the wall, I find Thorne approaching. His dark hair is still slightly damp, curling around the ends. Is he staying nearby? For some reason, I can’t imagine him renting a room. It’s too mundane for someone like him. He’s dressed in the same dark colors as always, though he’s forgone the cloak today. He carries no sword, but I spot a dagger at his hip. Practical.

“Reaper.”

“Angel.”

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