Page 84 of Leashed

Chapter Thirty

Bo slowed his pace when the lake appeared in the distance, his tongue hanging out as he panted from the exertion of the first leg of his journey. He trotted toward the water, his eyes scanning the treed banks for signs of danger.

It had been an uneventful five hours, save the strain his muscles had been under while he tore across the barren landscape.

Two hundred miles was, without a doubt, easier by truck than by foot.

But considering what likely lay ahead, a few sore joints and bleeding feet were nothing.

The lake was completely calm, the surface unbroken by the ripples always present in the open water topside. He paced the banks for a few minutes, his parched throat aching as he assessed the area, torn between crossing through the water or taking his chances amid the trees surrounding it.

When the rustle of leaves drew his attention, he zeroed in on the movement, his decision made when a catoblepas emerged, teeth bared. Its immense form stalked out from the shadows of the trees, the foul stench of its breath already wafting over him as he stared the creature down.

Unarmed and moments away from taking human form, there was no way he could hold his own against a catoblepas. If the horns on its enormous head didn’t gut him, the rancid breath from the grotesque lion-esque mouth would seep into his lungs and poison him from the inside out.

Water creatures were solitary and his chances of surviving a swim were definitely higher.

He backed away from the banks and transformed, dropping his satchel off his shoulders and yanking his clothes out, keeping one eye on the catoblepas circling the outer rim of trees. The beast purred in anticipation, its head swinging up and drawing his own attention to the cavern’s ceiling.

Nothing.

Tightening the straps of his empty bag and cursing himself for forgetting his shoes, he licked his lips and shook off the growing desire to quench his thirst. Hades’s warning rang in his ears.

The catoblepas tracked his movements, observing him as he knelt down and broke the seal of the lake’s waters with his hand, ripping it out when his intrusion set off a small whirlpool in the middle of the lake. He rose up and watched the whirlpool as it grew slowly, the banks of the lake receding at his feet.

Second-guessing his decision to travel across, he trekked toward the catoblepas, gauging the monster’s strength as it wove its serpentine tail through the fallen branches.

When another two joined it, he licked his lips, took a deep breath, and dove into the lake.

His hesitation had cost him valuable time, the whirlpool having grown incrementally larger in the middle of the water. Skirting it now meant a longer swim around and more opportunities for whatever was causing the whirl to seek him out.

He broke through the surface for air, reorienting himself as the draw of the spinning water threw him off course. The catoblepas stalked him from the banks, over a dozen now winding through the trees and lunging playfully in his direction, held back only by whatever was swimming in the water beneath him.

The thought wasn’t reassuring.

Fighting the water’s pull, he pushed toward a bank he couldn’t see, propelling at a good pace until something slithered against his leg. His concentration broken, he floundered, kicking against the caressing tendril as it inched up his shirt and slid along his belly.

Scylla.

He powered ahead, repulsed by the slimy tentacle leisurely working its way over his skin but knowing the first hint of his disgust would summon the anger of the vain sea creature. The whirlpool continued to tug at him, draining the banks and his strength at a steady pace.

His stomach clenched as the invasive tendril moved up his throat to his lips, probing his mouth gently in an effort to force it open. The scent of decay and death clung to it, souring every breath he took and leaving a putrid slime on his face with every pass.

The far bank finally appeared on the horizon and Scylla doubled her efforts, his skin crawling when a second tentacle slipped up the leg of his jeans. It grazed his inner thigh and he made an involuntary noise at the back of his throat, his stomach lurching.

Scylla’s reaction to the slight was instantaneous.

The tentacle at his thigh gripped him, its hold tightening when he jolted and his unencumbered foot instinctively fought against the restraint. The tendril dancing across his face sought out his mouth and dove in, forcing his lips apart and allowing the lake’s water to permeate the barrier of his clenched teeth, burning down his throat.

She rose from the whirlpool, her multitude of heads arcing toward him, teeth bared. The sight froze him momentarily, allowing the pull of the whirlpool to drag him off course again. Forcing himself to relax against her grip seemed to appease the sea creature, and her hold on his leg loosened a fraction, the tendril in his mouth sliding out and caressing his cheek.

Dark figures began to emerge from the water in front him, closing in at a frightening speed. He recoiled from the ambush, thrashing his arms out at the closest attacker and making contact with nothing but the lake.

Hallucinations.

Spitting the remaining vile water from his mouth, he locked his eyes on the shore and barreled ahead, no longer fighting against the monster gently trailing over his skin. Creatures continued to breach the surface of the lake and advance on him, passing over his body without so much as a whisper.

The rocky shore of the lake was within reach when Scylla again tightened her grip, pulling him back. Swallowing his revulsion, he relaxed into the hold and ran his hand over one slimy tendril, caressing it as one might a lover, relief washing over him when it trailed across his brow once more and slipped into the water, his leg released.

---