Reckoning (The Watchers Book 5) (11 page)

These were the thoughts rumbling through my head as he wheeled me out of the keep. Generally, I tried not to dwell on things, but this was one mental loop I clung to. Anger was so much easier to process than the terror that nagged me.

Because the only thing more frightening than the ancient wheelbarrow’s
squeak-squeak
as it echoed through the cavernous halls of the keep was when the squeaking stopped. When Carden would let go the cart’s handles to speak, masking his accent in hushed tones, and male voices mingled with his, asking questions, giving orders.

I held my breath, grateful I had yet to hear the voice that scared me above all others—the voice of Sonja, queen of them all.

Reborn
, I reminded myself. A new person. A courageous person—one who walked alone, made her own rules.

One who wasn’t freaking out, buried beneath pounds and pounds of foul gore.

Carden pressed on, and just when it felt like he was going to spend the rest of eternity wheeling me in my own personal horror show, suffocating and scared, his voice came to me in a rough whisper. “Almost there.”

Even from beneath the layers of burlap and carnage, I felt the temperature plunge. Carden stopped, and I held my breath, tensing and straining to detect where we were and who else might be around.

But we were alone, and he began to heave chunks of Trainee off of me.

A blessed blast of air hit my skin, and I shivered with pleasure as he peeled away the heavy layers of fabric. It’d stuck to my skin and made a horrific wet sucking sound as it separated from my body.

I blinked to clear my eyes, but it didn’t get any brighter. I propped myself up on an elbow, trying in the near-darkness to make sense of where he’d brought me. A single torch hissed and popped as it cast slashes of gold and black dancing along rough-hewn rock walls. Wherever the light caught, gleamed with dampness. I tuned into the distant
plip-plip
of water and the sulfurous stench of underground springs.

This was one of the caverns beneath the vampires’ cliff-top keep.

“We’re still here? After all that, I thought we’d be in, like, Finland by now.” I was wiping the gore from my face when my hand froze.

In one swift movement, Carden pulled the hooded cloak from his body. Torchlight danced across his hardened form, glittering along the thick sword that hung at his side. He wore his kilt, but even that looked dangerous, a thick dark mass of wool gathered around his waist and sweeping over his shoulder, held in place with a crude little dagger.

This was the Carden of old. A vampire
and
a warrior. And his eyes were boring down at me, his expression unreadable.

It seemed I wasn’t the only one who’d turned a new leaf.

A different sort of fear began to pulse through my blood. Was he still angry with me? How would things be between us?

Nervous, all I could think to say was, “Hi to you, too.” It came out sounding more like a question than an actual greeting. “I, uh, like your sword.”

Inexplicably, this made me blush, and I cursed myself under my breath.

His face softened, and he briefly shut his eyes with a shake of his head. “Och, and hi yourself, dove.” He reached a hand down to help me out.

“Thanks.” I gave him a relieved and grateful smile that felt like it had originated from my toes. “I mean, in a big way. Thank you for coming for me.”

“As if I wouldn’t.” He caught me as I stumbled on my cramped legs, but then he grimaced.

I realized I must’ve looked—and smelled—disgusting. “I’m pretty gross, huh?”

He tapped the tip of my nose with his fingertip. “A bit unpalatable, yes. But nothing a leap into the sea won’t fix.”

“Great,” I grumbled, looking around to see where we were. Because of course our escape couldn’t be as simple as strolling out the front door.

A few tunnels extended around us like spokes from a wheel. I didn’t know which scared me more, the passage that was pitch black or those that shone with torchlight.

Our location clicked. A fine needle of dread pierced me. I knew this place.

“We’re near the sea gate,” I said, trying to make myself sound more confident than I currently felt. Deep beneath vampire central, I’d come this way when I’d broken into their lair what felt like a lifetime ago. I’d made my way out again, but I’d never be able to escape the memory of the horrors I’d seen that day.

I assumed we weren’t going back the way we came, which meant the only way out was through that pitch-black tunnel. It led to a cliffside gate that dropped off into thin air—and that wasn’t even the scariest part of this whole thing. The scariest part would be the freezing waves churning and crashing against the rocks below.

“How high is the tide?” I asked, not even sure what I wanted the answer to be.

“High enough. We must hurry.” Carden waved me into the exit tunnel, needing to duck lower the closer we got to the gate. “Ready for a sea bath?”

I dragged my feet, wanting a second to wrap my mind around what we were about to do. “Do I have a choice?”

But then faint voices carried to us, echoing along the tunnel walls. I tilted my head, straining to listen, but sound played tricks here. The speakers could be ten feet away or ten times that.

“Come, lass.” He snatched my hand and pulled me into a jog. We were quickly plunged into total blackness, and I must’ve gripped his hand too hard or made an anxious noise, because suddenly the old Carden was back with me, squeezing my hand, speaking with an easy lilt. “I’ve always wanted a swim with you.”

For a second I thought it was just my eyes adjusting, but I soon realized the tunnel was getting lighter. How long had I been inside? It was the dimming, which meant the sky never got brighter than a dreary gunmetal gray.

“Where’s the light coming from?” I squinted, trying to make sense of it. “Is that a spotlight? Do they have search—” I slammed into Carden’s back as he stopped short. “What—?”

He clapped a hand to my mouth.
“Wheesht.”

And then I heard it. Heard
her
.

Sonja, her voice vibrating above all the others, saying, “Find them.”

We broke into an awkward run. I slammed my forehead against a low rock and stumbled, swooning with pain. But Carden grabbed me, and wrapping a tight arm around my chest, he began to haul me the rest of the way.

But it wasn’t necessary. I was racing on my own power now. I was so out of there.

“We must—” he began, but I didn’t care to hear what he had to say. The sea gate was in my sights now, and it was propped and hanging open.

I hurtled through it and flung myself over the edge.

I sucked in a breath, then instinct kicked in. I was falling, falling, but managed to right myself, tucking my elbows tight to my body, pinching my nose, aiming my toes down. To avoid smashing my bones against the hard surface of the water, it was critical to soften my muscles, and I relaxed my body—at least as much as one could while hurtling into the sea. I wouldn’t say I sliced neatly into the waves, but I didn’t break anything, either.

Still, I hit the surface hard enough to momentarily blacken my vision. I came to as I was kicking my way up, and was sucking in my first gulp air before my thoughts had even cleared.

Thank you, Ronan, for so many months of rigorous training. I could do this unconscious…and almost had.

I didn’t have a second to spend with that thought when a wave slapped me from behind. And then another. They were relentless, coming one after the other, hitting me, pushing me down. I tumbled and rolled in the black sea. I was thrown against rocks. My feet caught on them at the bottom. They cut my hands, my face. Impenetrable blades of granite all around.

I refused to die in this water.

I kicked and flailed and used everything I had to propel myself away from the craggy shoreline and swam deeper into the water, until finally I made it past the break.

The waves were softer and rounder here, but no less dangerous. These rollers had the force of giants. Massive swells bobbed me up and pitched me down, able to drown me just as surely as the choppy breakers.

Where was Carden? I scanned up the cliffside to the sea gate. A figure was peering out, scanning the horizon. A figure…lit by a spotlight.

I gasped a quick lungful of air and dove under. I knew a moment’s panic—was that Carden up there?—but then a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back up.

His voice was husky in my ear. “You’ve lost your mind, lass.”

“You could say I’m a new woman.”

“I like it. Och,” he blurted and tugged me hard, out of the blaze of a roving searchlight. “Hold your breath. They hunt for us.”

Before I could say anything, he pulled me under. My arms cramped and my lungs burned, but we swam and swam, and when I thought I couldn’t make it any farther, Carden grabbed my upper arm hard enough to leave a bruise and dragged me the last few yards.

With a kick, he heaved me above the water’s surface just as a rowboat splashed up beside us.

I tried to grab hold of the side, but the craft was tiny, pitching and rearing on the rough water. “Hurry,” a voice rasped from inside.

A gloved hand grabbed me as Carden shoved at my butt, and I toppled like a dead fish into the belly of the boat.

A pair of eyes stared at me from beneath a wool fisherman’s cap. “Cain’t say I won’t be pleased to see your backside, lass.”

Did Tom the Draug Keeper just make a comment about my backside?

I glared at him. “Excuse me?”

“Stop your gawping.” He spat into the water.

Carden dropped into the boat. “He only means he wants you gone.”

“Yeah, well, I want me gone, too.” I flinched, reacting just in time as Carden tossed something to me. It was my duffel.

“Hey, awesome. Where’d this come from?”

“I found it on the path. It’s how I knew you’d been taken. You’d never abandon your wee rucksack.”

He peered inside as I unzipped it and rifled the contents. Hammerfest, Norway was north of the Arctic Circle, and I’d packed accordingly, bringing every warm item of clothing I owned.

I shivered, thinking there wasn’t a parka in the world that could’ve eased the chill that’d settled into my bones. Seeing the stuff that I’d packed what felt like a thousand years ago brought home what I was doing.

“Get some dry clothes on before you catch your death,” Carden said with a grin that was too jaunty for my tastes.

“Yes, sir,” I muttered, though I was grateful for the fresh change of clothing. I stopped talking after that. Getting dressed while neither exposing myself nor tumbling out of the wildly bobbing boat demanded all my attention. Finally, I dropped onto the bench, no longer freezing and only slightly damp. “Is this thing even sea-worthy?”

“My boat’s a braw thing.” Tom set to rowing. “You’re the one’s gonna get us all kill’t.”

“What?” I gave him an overly innocent look. “I’m sitting.”

“I mean your addlepated notions of escape.” The way Tom said it sounded like
excape.

Carden laughed, low and resigned, and gave a quick half-hug around my shoulders. “What can I say? This is
your
plan, love.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Carden joined Tom at the oars, and after several minutes of rowing—plus a fair amount of whispered curses—the searchlight had shrunk to a pale disc in the far distance.

I turned on Carden the moment we were far enough away to start the engines. “We need to discuss this Alcántara thing.”

“What Alcántara thing?” He reached into his bag and pulled out a small leather pouch. “A wee gift for you, to show my appreciation.”

“You’re avoiding the topic.” I took the pouch from him. It had an intriguing heft to it. But, no. I wouldn’t be distracted. “Don’t try to change the subject. You know what thing. Since when are you two friends?”

“We’re not friends,” he said flatly, and set to stowing his oars. “Are you not going to look at my gift?”

“I may be hundreds of years younger than you, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Tell me what’s really going on.” I stared at him, waiting for a better answer, but he only stared right back. “Okay, fine. Wee giftie.”

But then I felt like an ungrateful shrew, because in that pouch was the most amazing weapon I’d ever seen. It was a throwing star, but one like I’d never seen before. Two-pointed, in the shape of an S. A very sharp, very lethal S. “Ohmygod, Carden. It’s…it’s amazing. I’ve never seen such a thing.”

He seemed pleased. “I thought you might take a fancy to it.”

“I do. Thank you.” I
was
so very grateful. But also very aware that the conversation had gotten off the topic of Alcántara.

Tom piped up, “War finds men peculiar bedfellows.”

My cheeks blazed. “Excuse me?”

The old Draug Keeper sucked on his teeth. “You asked ’boot the Spaniard”—pronounced
Spainyerd
—“he’s who all I’m talking about. When fighting starts, in your bed you might find one you thought was your enemy.”

“Not the way I’d have put it.” Carden rubbed his face with a sigh. “But, aye. Alcántara wants Fournier ousted just as much as I.” He closed my hand gently over my new weapon and leaned close to whisper, “I’m glad you like it. When you throw it, it will come back to you. Like a wee boomerang. Lethal grace. Like you, dove. And, like the star, I hope you always return to me.”

Some unknown feeling filled me. Was it love? Trepidation? Regardless, it was more emotion than was safe.

I cleared my throat and returned to the topic. They both seemed in a talkative mood, and I knew better than to miss my chance at answers. “So is Alcántara also allied with Freya?” I still couldn’t figure how Sonja’s sister fit into all this.

“Alcántara is allies with Alcántara.” Carden nestled closer to me on the floor of the boat. “And that is that.”

I turned to him, ready to proceed with my interrogation, but couldn’t help laughing instead. Carden’s hair was wet and scraggly from the endless splash of waves over the sides. His kilt and cloak were soaked, and the stink of the boat—something like petrol, goat poop, and marine slime—clung to the wool.

“Who’s the aromatic one now?” I bit my cheek to lessen my grin. “Though you did tell Ronan you wanted, what was it, the sea breeze on your cheeks?”