Page 12 of Gemini Hunted
I have the Horn.
It’s way more than a contest prize. This ancient thing is an enchanted object. It’s powerfully bespelled for fertility.
This is the magic I need to save my fellow witches, whose bloodlines are so diluted we’re practically sterile. This Horn will help the whole witching world make babies to restore our dying races.
But this is no time to rest on my laurels.
The aching pressure in my lungs demands relief. I need to surface.
Like,now.
Clutching the Horn under my arm like a football, I swing my flashlight over the chaos to find an escape route.
Ronin and Nikolai are fighting, knife to knife, both expert divers and master killers. It’d be a thing of beauty to watch them go at it—if I weren’t so terrified for Ronin. Looming over their struggling bodies and dangerously close, Cleo thrashes in a blind agony that tears at my own stupid heart.
That spear still bristles from her throat.
Damn it. Don’t be a moron, showgirl.That’s me, giving myself a lecture.She betrayed you, remember?
Before I can decide whether to try and intervene, a violent spasm of her thick forked tail slams into the two human combatants—Ronin and Nikolai—and sends them spinning apart.
Propelled by the powerful impact, Nikolai tumbles end over end.
Right into me.
The heavy cylinder of his tank knocks the Horn from my grip. The glittering crescent spins into the darkness, then drops under my light into the murky deep.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I have to surface. Have to.
Ronin!I shout blindly through our bond, shoving the image into my mate’s head by brute force.I’m outta air. Get the Horn!
But I can already tell by the muddy feeling in our bond that a nullifying object is still in play. Even as Vasili’s dad fins away, struggling with his battered gear, I’m guessing Nikolai has the nullifying object tucked under his wetsuit.
Ronin can’t hear me.
The pit of my belly drops in despair.
But Ronin can still see.
Suddenly, my mate’s floating before me. Through the visor, his urgent amber eyes lock on mine.
Roughly Ronin pulls the respirator from his mouth and presses it to my lips. I grip his wrist to stabilize both of us and suck in a desperate breath of delicious air, easing the crushing ache in my starved lungs with sweet oxygen. I pull in two more greedy gulps to replenish my empty lungs, then pass the respirator back to him.
We’re buddy breathing.
Over his shoulder, I catch a flashing glimpse of something new emerging from the deep. A thick tangle of tentacles, purple as eggplant, speckled with sinister black. A cruel beak gapes wide under an indigo eye, cold and remorseless as death.
Cheese on toast.
Another monster.
I’ve never seen one in the flesh before, but I’ve done my witch academy homework.
That’s a kraken.
A fuckingkraken.
