Page 49 of Captured in Love
Levi starts whistlingThe NeverEnding Storytheme song, and I pinch his thigh to get him to stop. He throws me an unrepentant grin over his shoulder. His enthusiasm is catching, though, and I squirm in anticipation of this dive.
“All right, masks on,” Raphaël says.
We take a moment to adjust our gear, then I tap Isak on the flank. “We’re ready.”
He moves beneath us, and it’s all I can do to stay in place. His neck and back shift sinuously as he dives underwater. I hold on to Levi, who’s seated in front of me, and do my best not to get swept away. Behind me, Raphaël steadies me with a strong grip on my waist. I lean as far forward as I can to lessen the drag, but Isak doesn’t seem to have issues with our weight. We slice through dark water at an amazing speed, our flashlight beams illuminating the tunnel that zips past us. The fit is tight with Isak’s big body, and I flatten myself against Levi’s back to avoid smacking my head into the ceiling.
But Isak swims low to the bottom, protecting us from harm. Without him, this would have been an arduous swim to the surface, and we might not have made it. Now we’re going to get there with oxygen to spare. I’m tempted to whoop, then remember that’s not a great idea while breathing through a tube.
The tunnel flies by, and suddenly we draw to a stop. I peer around Levi, craning my neck to see what’s going on.
The rusted metal portcullis is still barring our way out.
Isak swipes his great paw at the grille, and a dull thud reverberates through the water. But though his claws rake scratches over the rust-brown iron, the grille doesn’t budge.
Raphaël releases my waist and swims off Isak’s back. I follow him, Levi close behind, and find myself staring at the obstacle that might cost us our lives after all.
On our way in, I’d decided to dismiss the threat of this portcullis when it started to descend. Raphaël and Levi both chose to follow me through, and now our decisions have come to bite us in the ass. I’d been too excited to get to the final destination and find the token, and I’d ignored the possibility that the grille might become permanently lodged here. There had been evidence that someone had passed through before us. I now know that had been Isak.
There was also the third empty slot in the token box. Whoever took the third medallion must have gotten out somehow.
The grille should have lifted again by now.
Isak slams his claws into the metal. Flakes of rust float off, red dust sinking to the bottom, passing through the beam of my flashlight. He might make his way through eventually—the thing looks like it’s been here for years, and likely isn’t as strong as it used to be.
But we don’t have the luxury of waiting for that.
I grab the small white tablet and wax pencil.
THERE MUST BE A LEVER OR A SWITCH
I scribble the words and show them to the guys. I’m not at all certain I’m right, but I have to dosomething. I can’t just float here and wait for a miracle.
Levi takes one side of the tunnel while Raphaël and I tackle the other. The walls are rough stone with some moss-like algae growth and an occasional barnacle, but this deep in the passageway, there aren’t many organisms willing to brave the dark and the cold.
Several minutes later, nothing has turned up. No hidden buttons, no switches or levers or even cracks that would indicate there’s anything we can do. Isak keeps scraping at the grille, peeling off layers of rusty metal, but it’s slow work, and I’m worried he’ll damage his claws on the rough surface. Raphaël swims to the bottom and tries, with Isak’s help, to lift the grille, but they can’t get it to budge. It’s either too rusted or too well made.
Just as I’m checking my oxygen levels on my wrist computer, Levi grabs my arm and points out into the tunnel. I follow the beam of his flashlight and jerk in surprise.
There’s a person floating on the other side of the grille.
Raphaël notices us staring, and soon, all three of our flashlights are turned on the stranger in professional diving gear. Judging by his size, it’s an adult man, though it’s hard to tell with his face obscured by a diving mask. His hands are bare, held in front of him as he slowly moves his flippered feet to keep from sinking.
I recognize the pose immediately. Levi looks just like that when he’s breaking a curse.
This witch is doing something to the grille, trying to keep us inside.
Trying to kill us.
I push up against the grille and wave at him, but he doesn’t respond. I even scribble PLEASE STOP on my little tablet and thrust it out toward him, but there’s no use. He doesn’t come closer to read the tablet, and there’s no change to the portcullis. He’s here to see us fail, and my pleas are useless.
I turn to find Levi in that same pose, his eyes closed behind his mask. As depleted as his magic is, he’s still trying to break whatever magic that witch is using. But he lowers his hands a moment later, shakes his head, and floats closer to take my tablet and wax pencil.
TELEKINESIS NOT A SPELL
Well, crap.
The art of moving objects with magic is one most witches possess in some small capacity—I can make feathers float, but not much more. I’ve always thought it to be more of an elemental magic, using air to help levitate small items, similar to lighting a candle with my mind.
