Page 49 of Touch of Evil
“Oh.” I release his hands. “That makes sense.”
Bren starts to walk off, appearing restless, but almost immediately returns. “This whole place is like one giant maze, even under the layer we’re standing on. There are dozens, if not hundreds of passageways beneath us. I think it’s how the creature has survived Tahoe’s magic so long, it tried to burrow into the lake floor and distance itself from the water where the magic is more potent. The thing is, the lake found a way through anyway, it’s why the whole structure is disintegrating as fast as it is.”
“Oh,” I say, realizing how much worse everything is.
“The passageways the creature took you through were too narrow for my wolf. I had to swim through them in human form. It’s why it took me so long to find you. I kept popping up in the wrong spots. Good in a way because I was able to get air, but bad because you weren’t there.”
“It’s all right,” I say, recognizing how bad he feels. “I used the time to figure things out and formulate a plan.”
He strokes my damp hair. “Yeah. You did good, Em.”
My eyes widen as Bren releases a bone-rattling growl. I turn toward the water, the sense of evil and wrongness returning with a vengeance. “It’s Una,” I say. I back away from the water’s edge. “She’s coming.”
Chapter Fourteen
Emme
Bren snarls. He senses Una’s arrival, too. And he’s not alone.
Gerald releases Merche, spitting out chunks of fur as he jets to our side. His head flips flops from side to side, harsh enough for each ear to alternate hitting his shoulders. The witches may have provided him enough of a feed to reattach his head and seal the skin, but not enough to repair the vertebrae.
“The crazy bitch is almost here,” Gerald tells us.
Oh, yes, she is.
The water charges with magic, lighting up the pool in a wash of green and blue sparkles that reflect along the wall.
“Tahoe doesn’t like her,” Bren mutters. “All that is the lake’s magic is fighting hers.”
Merche and Farrah clutch each other, racing away from the water’s edge. Bren’s focus bounces from them to the pool. “Hell, it doesn’t like you either.”
“It’s because the magic they used for Mirror was just as dark as what made Una,” I whisper.
The pool spills over and splashes against our feet, bubbling as if boiling. I barely register what’s happening when Bren drags me behind him. “It’s banging the crap out of Oompa’s magic.”
“Una,” I remind him. I lead him to where the witches are hugging the wall. “Do you think Tahoe can kill her?”
“Yeah, I do, but not quicker than she can get to us,” Bren says. “Tahoe’s packed with enough good magic to suffocate the bad. But it’s like I said, she’s kept a safe distance from it by burrowing underground. It’ll be hours, or maybe days before Tahoe breaks that freak apart, and that’s only if she stays underwater long enough, which she won’t do. She’s too smart.”
He whistles, trying to snag Merche’s attention. “Mickey, hey Mickey. Get us the hell out of here.”
Merche doesn’t take too kindly to the mouse reference. I think she tries to flip Bren off with her paw except it doesn’t quite work due to her lack of fingers.
“Come on, Merche, go,” Farrah urges. “We have to at least try to find our way through the tunnels.”
Merche adjusts her position beside Farrah and they begin their chant. I don’t understand enough Latin to interpret what they’re saying, but I recognize enough words to know they repeat the spell more than once.
The wall beside Gerald starts to split and a section breaks off and lands in the water. “Any day now, ladies,” Bren calls behind him.
“We’re trying,” Merche squeaks. “But it’s like you told us. Tahoe doesn’t like Una or us. It’s blocking our spells.”
“Try harder,” Bren snaps.
The opposite wall cracks. Bren presses his body against me, shielding me from the crumbling rock. Gerald is beside himself, jumping in place and causing the sides of his head to slam repeatedly against his shoulders. “I don’t want to die,” he says. “No way, not like this. Not under the damn water like a punk, and not after I sucked a fish.”
“I can respect that,” Bren agrees. “How we doing, witches?”
“We got it,” Farrah calls.