Page 50 of Touch of Evil

A crackling noise accompanies a break in the stone. It opens enough to allow Merche through.

Farrah doesn’t stand a chance. Bren lugs me away in the opposite direction as an octopus tentacle thrusts though the water and snatches Farrah by the waist.

Farrah screams.

So does Merche.

So do I.

So does Gerald.

“An octopus,” Bren says, pointing. “I fucking knew it.”

He shoves me in the direction of the fissure as Farrah is forced underwater. The horrible sound of shattering bones precedes Farrah’s reappearance. She floats to the surface of the water, belly up, her lifeless protruding eyes no longer moving.

Bren urges me through the opening. “Go,go.”

The rock edge scrapes my shoulders and rakes at my shirt as I angle my way through. Gerald is a tighter fit and Bren barely makes it through.

I move forward blind, using myforceto feel around the tight space. It’s better than using my hands but not efficient enough to run.

“Bren,” I call out. “I can’t see.”

“I’ve got you, Em,” he yells. “Harold, go after the mouse.”

Gerald doesn’t bother to correct his name. “On, it,” he says.

Like a spider, Gerald scrambles up the wall and onto the ceiling, passing over top of me.

The stretch of space we’re in widens enough to allow Bren ahead of me. He clasps my hand, hurrying us ahead.

A collision of rock and magic shake the ground at our feet. “Mother fucker,” Gerald hisses.

He’s somewhere to our far left. But it doesn’t make sense, there’s only wall and stone. He screams, the agony in his tone paining my ears.

And then he’s gone.

I clasp my hand over my mouth. “Oh, Gerald,” I say.

“Yeah,” Bren mutters. “It must’ve been his time. But it’s not ours, Em. This way.”

We dash in the opposite direction we heard Gerald cry out. We’re farther along and pass into another cell. This one is more of a cave. Stalactites in varying length and width hang from the ceiling.

I’m out of breath from running and breathing in the stagnant air from such an enclosed space. “Do you think we’re closer to the surface?”

Bren takes a sniff and curses. “No. These aren’t mineral deposits like in caves. It’s the same crap that makes up the wall.”

He presses his hand against my shoulder, driving me backward. I think he hears Una, until the walls splinter and crack. A large stalactite falls, and another. We double-back, returning to the small pathway as the opening of the cell we were just in collapses.

The sound of rushing water fills my ears and the cavern floor grows wet and cold. Panic threatens to consume me. We’re in a dark maze, filling with water, and no exits in sight.

“Bren,” I say.

“Don’t,” he tells me. “I’m going to get you out of here. I swear to God I will.”

Merche’s squeaks reverberate from further away and down toward the right. She’s in pain, and she’s scared, each sound sharpening to an ear-rupturing squeal.

The entire area shifts forward at an angle and we fall, the frigid water soaking my chest and legs and threating to split my bones.