Descendant (2 page)

There were several things I could’ve done in my situation.

The only problem was I was pretty sure each one was just as likely to get me killed as the next. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t move. The water suddenly seemed even less like my usual escape and more like a pool of rapidly-setting cement.

At first, I couldn’t focus on anything but that gun. After a minute I started to feel light-headed. Then I remembered to breathe. My head started to clear a little after that, and almost right away I had this crazy idea that maybe I could escape under the water. I could, after all , easily hold my breath for a whole minute, maybe longer—especial y if my life depended on it. Plus, I was a fast swimmer, so if I could just hold my breath long enough to get out of close-firing range…

It was crazy, I knew. And I was fairly certain this plan would fail miserably, but within a split-second I’d decided I was going to do it anyway. What other choice did I have? Stand there and let him blow my brains out? Yeah, no thank you.

I moved noticeably then, for the first time since I’d laid eyes on the man. I saw his finger itch towards the gun’s trigger, and I inhaled a little sharper than I meant to in response. He didn’t seem to notice. I tried to focus, tried to steady my self and take the deep breaths I’d need to follow through with my plan without being too noticeable. But it wasn’t easy.

He was so close.

So close I could see the cold expression in his pale-blue eyes. So close I could see the pistol he held didn’t so much as quiver as he took two steps toward me. So close that, when his eyes darted ever-so-slightly to my right, I saw it.

And then I saw him move the gun, slowly and deliberately, to follow his gaze as he looked away from me.

I was so confused by this that, at first, it didn’t even occur to me that this would probably be a good time to make my escape. I got over that real quick. I took a deep breath, sucking in as much air as I could possibly hold, and my legs bent to submerge my self in the water. But just as my shoulders reached the surface, two things happened in quick succession:

First, I felt something brush against my arm, and then down to my waist—something warm, something that felt kind of like seaweed. And then, before I could even open my mouth to scream, the man standing before me spoke for the first time, in a deep, calm voice:

“Don’t move, Alexandra.”

I probably would’ve listened too, if only because I was so shocked to hear this complete stranger say my name, except at that moment something grabbed my left arm and clamped down on it with a merciless grip. And next thing I knew, I was under water.

My nostrils and throat burned as water tried to force its way in. I flailed in protest, my legs kicking wildly until one of my feet made contact with something soft, and I managed to break free and resurface briefly. I sputtered out the dirty lake water and gulped down as much air as I could before I was jerked back under.

I twisted. I turned. I kicked. I punched. I did everything I could to shake the thing off, but it was moving around me in relentlessly quick motions, dodging almost every attack I threw. Even the ones that did make contact with it didn’t seem to count for anything. I might as well have been hitting a solid block of concrete. Make that reinforced concrete.

The muscles in my legs and my one free arm were throbbing, and my mind began to dul at the mercy of the constant ache. A sharp pain was spasming through my left arm. It was a fleeting, hard-to-focus-on pain though—and that was the scary thing: it was getting harder and harder to focus on anything. I was slipping.

Was this the end? Was this real y how I was going to go?

I tried to focus, tried to find any strength that might be left inside me. There wasn’t much. But I still was ready to give up just yet. My body went rigid as I prepared it for one last attempt at freedom. The creature must’ve sensed there was still some fight in me, because its grip on my arm got even tighter. Something sharp, something like nails, or knives—I wasn’t about to look and see— crushed through my skin, and then I felt a vicious twist that had to have ripped my left arm at least part-way off.

I had a brief moment of clarity then, and with it came a sudden surge of adrenaline that made me oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t sure I still owned two arms. I began to fight again, jerking and kicking with everything I had left. My foot hit something, and for a second the thing’s grip loosened.

Using the arm I could still halfway feel, I tried to reach around and shove them off.

When I reached out though, my hand didn’t find a body to shove. It only brushed something that felt like strands of hair, which slid through my outstretched fingers and then were gone.

And I was free. Just like that.

My body relaxed and began to float, bobbing awkwardly up and down in the water. I’d kept my eyes closed up until this point, partly because the muddy lake water stung my eyes, but mostly because I was having a hard enough time not panicking without seeing whatever sort of monstrous thing had been trying to drown me. But I did open my eyes then, and lifted my head to gaze in the direction I thought the surface should be in. It was disorienting, at first, but my eyes eventual y found the sunlight.

God, it was so far away.

God, it was so far away.

The sun’s rays seemed so feeble, so pointless in the murky brown water they were barely penetrating. And the surface?

Five feet, ten feet, maybe fifty feet away—I didn’t know. Al I knew was that it seemed so out of reach now. I kicked half-heartedly towards it anyway. It didn’t get any closer. I should’ve been panicking. But all I felt was cold. Very, very cold.

Then the light went away.

The pressure was back on my arms all of a sudden, although this time it wasn’t as strong. Of course, that might’ve been because my nerves were pretty much shot at this point. Still , I could feel enough to know I was being pulled again. I wanted to scream. Couldn’t they just let me drown in peace?

My eyes closed again, and I saw faces—Lora’s face, Mom’s face. Faces I was never going to see again. I reached out. I wanted to touch them one last time, but my hand treaded nothing but water before floating slowly back down to my side.

Whatever had me was whipping me through the water with ease now, but whether we were going up, or down, or what I didn’t know. After a minute the light came back again, and even from behind closed eyelids I could tell it was brighter than before. It was blinding, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from fluttering open once more in response. Just as they did so, my head crashed through the water’s surface.

My left arm was shaking, a weird itching numbness running through it. I was light-headed, and not quite sure how I’d made it to that precious, previously underappreciated oxygen—but I had. I could breathe. And for now that was all that mattered. There was an arm around my waist, and whoever it belonged to was still pul ing me along. It didn’t occur to me to try and see who it was though. I didn’t care about that either. Everything was so peacefull now, and I was too busy enjoying the miracle of oxygen to worry about anything else.

Al too soon though, the peace came to an end. I felt my legs, and then my back, scrape along the lake’s rocky bottom. A second later I was brought to an abrupt stop.

Everything was still for a moment, and then I was lifted out of the water and into a strong pair of arms that cradled me against a broad, muscular chest. I was soaked, and in the merciless wind I quickly succumbed to a fit of shivers. It had started to rain, too, and, even though I was already drenched, I huddled closer to whoever held me in an attempt to get away from the pounding raindrops.

“Are you alone?” said a deep voice. I tried to lift my head, but found I didn’t have the strength.

Alone?

“Answer me!” barked the voice.

Just give me a minute! I kind of almost drowned there…

“Vanessa. Please.”

Vanessa? My name is not Vanessa...

I heard footsteps, followed by what sounded like a low growl, and I tried twisting my neck around to get a better look. Bad idea.

About twenty feet from me stood a huge… creature. At first glance I would’ve called it a wolf, but it was as big as a grizzly bear—if not bigger. It was stocky, with thick trunks for legs and feet with claws so long that even from this distance I automatically drew back at the sight of them. The creature was dripping wet, and its long black fur clung to its body, clearly outlining the bulging muscles in its legs and neck.

There was a blonde-haired woman walking toward it, and even on its four legs, the beast could easily look her in the eyes. I was terrified for this woman—this woman who eyes. I was terrified for this woman—this woman who seemed unbelievably tiny and fragile next to the beast. Her stride was confident, but as she approached it the creature let out another menacing growl, baring teeth that looked several inches too long for its mouth.

I wanted to scream, to beg her to turn around, but my mouth was so dry I could barely swallow. I couldn’t take my eyes off the creature. They kept unwillingly shifting back to its frightening display of a mouth, and soon I noticed the fur directly around there was darker, and that several of its teeth were covered in red splotches. Blood, maybe? My eyes drifted to my mangled arm.

Was that the thing that had tried to drown me? I turned my attention back to the creature, and a small gasp escaped my mouth.

The woman now stood only inches from it, her stance relaxed. The giant wolf-creature was pacing irritably. Every time one of its oversized paws collided with the earth, the tiny pebbles covering the beach around it rattled as if they were being subjected to an extremely localized earthquake.

Several times it stopped directly in front of her, brought its face so close to hers that the tip of its nose almost bumped against her forehead, and let out a low growl. The woman never even flinched.

“Last chance,” she said in a cold voice, after about five of those up-close-and-personal growls.

The creature turned its head in my direction then, and its glare caused a fresh set of shivers to run through my body.

Thankfully, its eyes lingered for only a few seconds before turning back to the woman. Then it sat down and tilted its head to the right. For a long time it held that pose, looking almost like it was calculating something.

Then it laughed. There was nothing animal-like about this laugh, either; it was shril , piercing, and devoid of any humor. And there was no mistaking it for what it was. Now might be a good time to point out that I am not, in fact, insane. Or at least I didn’t think I was.

But then it spoke.

I uttered a small whimper of surprise, and the person holding me gave a small chuckle. Somehow, I’d almost forgotten about my brush with death, and that I was still being held by whoever my savior was. Maybe because the man had been so quiet. Or maybe because the talking wolf-thing happened to be demanding my attention.

I didn’t understand the language it was speaking in. The words were quick and seemed to fall together in an almost melodic way. Its tone, I decided after a minute or so of listening, sounded amused. You know—assuming it could speak in a tone. And that it was capable of complex emotions.

Okay, maybe I was going insane.

It went on for at least a full minute, pacing as it spoke and not pausing once for breath. When it final y seemed to be finished, nobody spoke. Nobody moved. There was no sound other than the plop, plop, plop of the steady raindrops as they disrupted the already uneven surface of the lake.

Then, in a motion so fast I would’ve missed it if I’d blinked, the blonde woman had the creature—the huge, five-times-her-size creature—by the throat, and in another blur of movement she lifted it effortlessly into the air and flung it across the beach.

The creature managed to twist itself so it would land on its feet, but it hit the ground so hard that its claws dug a ditch several feet long before it was able to skid to a stop directly in front of the man holding the gun. It gave a disgruntled growl as it straightened up and shook off the dirt that had gotten into its fur.

The man with the gun hesitated. He said something in what sounded like the same language the creature had used, to sounded like the same language the creature had used, to which it responded with a vicious snarl. Then they both fell silent. The creature’s ears laid flat against its head as it gave another low growl.

The blonde woman took two steps toward them, but then seemed to change her mind and stopped midway through the third. Now she just stood, arms folded against her chest and eyes alternating between the creature and Gun Man.

My savior shifted his weight to the right. I just stared, wondering when I was going to wake up from this nightmare.

It was gun-fire that shattered the silence.

One, two, three—I couldn’t keep count. At least ten bullets had to have hit the creature, several of them landing square in its chest. It winced as the first bullets hit, but then stood its ground, even when Gun Man threw the first gun aside and pulled another from his coat pocket and unloaded its clip as well .

My mouth dropped open. “It’s not…dying…” I said, more to myself than anybody.

“He’s not trying to kill her,” said a quiet voice. It sounded annoyed.