Dark Waters: Book 1 (Celtic Legacy Series) by Mayer Shannon

Author:Mayer, Shannon [Mayer, Shannon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HiJinks Ink Publishing
Published: 2011-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

G AGGING AND HEAVING , I opened the bag and poured the contents into the tub. The flesh was decomposing at an alarming rate; even the bones were barely more than mush. Damn, I’d been hoping to take one and just shove my way through the Barrier. However, there was still a lot of blood, most of it pooled in the bottom of the black garbage bag. Maybe I could still use it. I poured it into the tub with the arms, doing my best not to splash the horrid stuff about.

“When did this happen?” Cora asked, her blue scales flashing as she zipped across the floor and peeked over the side of the tub.

“Last night. I saw Ashling in the mirror, and then a Fomorii came through her cell door and attacked me. The mirror shattered and the arms fell off,” I said, pulling the top of my t-shirt up over my nose and breathing through it. It wasn’t much of a filter, but it was better than nothing at all.

“This might just work,” she muttered. Her tail flicked around, and she pointed with it to my knife and then to the pool of rank, black blood in the bottom of the tub. “Dip your knife in the blood.” I did as she said, gingerly putting the blade all the way in. Steam rose, and the blood bubbled, the boiling action only intensifying the smell. I gagged and nearly dropped my knife.

“Don’t go soft on me now. You’ve got worse than this to face yet,” Cora said.

I shuddered. “I don’t mind facing it. It’s the smell that I don’t like.”

As I drew the blade out, the black blood seemed to be absorbed into it. I held it up to the light, twisting it every which way, noting the edge was no longer shining. “It’s dulled the knife.”

Cora grunted. “The blade is not dulled, only stained. Now your clothes.”

I looked down at her. “Now my clothes what?” Again she flicked the tip of her tail at the tub. She had to be kidding me. I stared at the tub, and then looked at Cora. “Are you sure?” I asked.

She bobbed her head. “Yes. And if I thought you could stomach it, I’d have you drink some of it down. The more Fomorii blood on and in you, the better the chance you’ll have.”

Stripping down, I tossed my white shirt and light-coloured jeans into the foul mess. They soaked the fluid right up and the smell lessened considerably. The white shirt was now a deep gray with flecks of red and black, and the jeans looked as if someone had taken a can of rust coloured spray paint to them. I pulled them out and held them up. They were perfectly dry.

“Put them on, Quinn. Then it is time for you to go,” she said, slithering out of the bathroom and back up onto the king-sized bed.

With a grimace, I pulled the shirt out and slipped it on, holding my breath as it passed over my face.

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