The Demon's Grave by E.M. MacCallum

Author:E.M. MacCallum [MacCallum, E.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-05-30T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Feeling a hard floor at my back, I wheezed a harsh breath and opened my eyes.

The ceiling above my head had vaulted upward with cracks allowing in fresh air.

No water, no kitchen, no fear.

Glancing to the window I saw the moonlight had faded. I wanted to sit up, but couldn’t bring myself to move. The beauty of being safe was something to savor.

I took a deep breath. The air moved my chest up and down. What a relief. I took another and another until my hand touched one of the chairs sitting back to back in the circular room.

I had thought it was a dream. How could I have forgotten when the spiders were attacking? I was here before. Was this all a dream? A hallucination? Where was everyone?

“Phoebe?” I whispered. “Read?”

Dead air shattered under my voice and when my ears stopped ringing, no one had answered. “Cody? Robin?” I turned my head into the chair, my forehead bouncing off the wood and I winced.

“You ask for everyone but one,” the mellifluous voice echoed in my ears but my eyes wouldn’t adjust to see him.

Blinking several times I realized he was a shadow, pacing the wall near my feet. His broad shoulders hunched and hands clasped behind his back with his head tilted down. From the angle, he could have been watching me.

“Where am I?” I asked.

The pacing stopped and he straightened slowly. “You don’t know?”

If I didn’t know better, it sounded as though Damien were smiling.

* * *

Warm water assaulted my mouth and nose, striking through my sinuses like twin daggers.

I clawed at the water to reach the surface. One of the currents shoved me against the island shooting pain through my bruised back.

Instinct took over and I shouted in bubbles. I clawed at water as if it were a mountainside or a tree.

It wasn’t until after my gurgled scream that I realized all my air was gone. With a jolt of panic I planted my shoes against the island.

Pushing off with all my strength, I aimed for the window, praying to break the surface.

Stretching my fingers, I strained to feel Aidan’s hands. I could see his watery, warped face above; see him reaching for me.

As my feet found the island to push off, a second current shoved me back. I skidded over the island as the water’s flow flushed me away from the kitchen.

Kicking and swinging my arms, I tried to find the surface.

Panic heated within my chest, my lungs were starting to ache, my throat convulsing for something, anything. It took all my concentration to not take a breath.

One frantic kick landed something solid beneath my foot. Pushing off, I rose. My muscles leaked of energy with each labored stroke.

My fingers broke the surface first. I don’t think I could rise fast enough before my head broke free. I took a shrieking breath. My lungs felt as if they’d been caved in. My arms wind-milled for something to grip.

I didn’t want to go under again, but I had to get to the window.

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