Dark Waters, page 20
Rachel fought to control her surge of anger at the woman’s cavalier tone. “We’re here. So what do we need to do now?”
Betty looked down at the water streaming from beneath the tree. “You know this is the spot, don’t you? Where the spirits all originated? That’s the spirit spring.”
“I thought they were the spirits of good men and women granted immortality,” Rachel said as casually as she could.
Betty frowned. “Now where did you hear that?”
“I think I read it somewhere.”
Betty shrugged. “Anyway, let’s get to work. Take off your clothes.”
Rachel’s eyebrows rose. “What, just … like that?”
“Are you shy all of a sudden? I assume he’s seen you naked, and I’m another woman.”
Who’s also seen me naked, Rachel thought, because you were spying on me.
Betty continued, her tone mocking, “Plus, we all know Kyle Stillwater has seen you without your clothes on, right?”
“Why don’t you just explain the overall strategy here?” Ethan said quietly.
“They won’t come to her unless she’s naked,” Betty said in exasperation. To Rachel she added, “You know that as well as I do.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel said to Ethan. She glanced back at him, but his face was hidden in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, she quickly undressed, leaving her clothes in a pile beside her. She felt a rush of embarrassment at her nudity, and shivered as the wind suddenly gusted over her skin. Goose bumps rose, and her nipples tightened painfully.
“Nice,” Betty said admiringly. “Even by moonlight.”
“Get on with it,” Rachel said, crossing her arms.
Betty knelt by the satchel and opened it. There was a smell from it that Rachel couldn’t identify, but it nauseated her, and she stepped back involuntarily. She winced as a twig poked into the sole of her bare foot.
Betty stood with a long feather in her hand. “We have to ritually cleanse you before you set out. It’ll make your allure more powerful. Follow me,” she said, and nodded for Rachel to step around the railing, down to the spring tree.
Rachel picked her way over the rocks, wincing when a sharp edge dug into her tender feet. In her lake everything was soft grass and gentle mud; even the stones were smooth and easy to traverse. It seemed like everything in Lake Wingra was out to inflict pain.
Betty impatiently waited for her beside the tangle of roots. The sound of the spring was loud, and the water looked like quicksilver in the moonlight filtering through the overhang.
“Hold up your hands,” the woman said, and Rachel raised her arms as if she was being robbed. “Clear your mind of everything but what you want. What you really want.”
Betty whispered something in a language Rachel didn’t understand, then began to caress her with the feather. Its touch was so delicate and insubstantial that Rachel began to tremble. Betty started at Rachel’s forehead, then moved down her cheeks and neck. The strokes touched the tips of her already erect nipples, the soft undersides of her breasts, the gentle slope of her belly. As it threatened to go lower she thought she might burst.
She felt rather than saw Betty’s lascivious smile as the feather brushed her nether hair. “Oh,” Rachel sighed. By the time the feather stroked her shins and the tops of her feet, she was weak-kneed with arousal.
“I think you’re ready,” Betty said.
Rachel glanced up at Ethan, standing silently at the railing. Did he know how she felt? Could he sense it on the wind still coming off Lake Wingra? Did he understand that this might be her life, caught at this feverish level of desire with no chance for either lessening or resolution?
WHAT IS IT about this woman? Ethan thought as Betty wafted the feather over Rachel. There was something erotic in the two women’s actions but not in the usual way. Like most men, he didn’t necessarily mind the idea of two women together, but Betty set off all his interior alarms.
The wind shifted a little, and he froze. A strange, vaguely familiar smell reached him, but he couldn’t quite place it. He concentrated to find the source. It seemed to come from the satchel Betty had left on the concrete. He edged discreetly toward it, glad for the comfort of the gun tucked into his pants.
BETTY STOOD BEHIND Rachel, her hands on Rachel’s shoulders. She could also feel the other woman’s body against her own. It felt strange and uncomfortable. “Call him,” Betty said softly, so close to her ear that Rachel jumped.
“Should I tell him to bring the heart?”
“What?”
“The dead man’s heart, where the spirits are kept.”
“Oh. No, that’s for later. We have to get him here first.”
Rachel had to lick her dry lips and swallow hard. “Kyle,” she said.
Betty pushed her lightly forward. “Not that way, honey. He won’t hear you. You have to be in the water.”
Rachel turned and stepped down into the stream coming from beneath the tree. It was barely ankle-deep, but it would be enough. If the spirits wanted her, they could find her. The waters were all connected, especially here at the source.
She looked out at the lake. The dark waters of Wingra seemed more like a gulf that would pull her in than a welcoming place where spirits might dwell. She felt a rush of terror, and her physical exposure only added to it.
“Kyle,” she said again. “Kyle Stillwater.”
“Keep going,” Betty said.
Rachel swallowed hard and continued out toward the open water. Each step across the rocky channel bottom seemed to grow more difficult.
When the water reached her waist and touched her intimately, she froze in fear and revulsion. The wind increased, and she hugged herself for warmth.
ETHAN SLOWLY KNELT beside the satchel, his eyes never leaving Betty. He knew how to move in silence and how to keep his movements slow and steady to avoid drawing attention from the corner of someone’s eye. He seemed to still have the knack. She was oblivious to him, focused entirely on Rachel’s form easing out into the darkness.
The wind gusted in the treetops. The weather said nothing about a storm, but the air seemed charged nonetheless.
Rachel was a slender, feminine silhouette moving down the channel toward open water. She looked small and vulnerable, her narrow waist and broad shoulders emphasizing her femininity. He felt all the intangible warnings of danger, and he wanted more than anything to scoop up Rachel and carry her to safety. But he also knew that a warrior had to fight his, or her, own battles. And in her way, Rachel was a formidable warrior.
The satchel was halfway unzipped, enough for his hand to slip inside. He went slowly, feeling for anything sharp; he didn’t want to cut open a finger on a knife. First he encountered what felt like a plastic grocery bag. As he pressed harder, it crinkled, and he froze. But the wind masked the sound, and Betty had not noticed him.
Rachel, the water now to the middle of her back, was almost to the open lake. His heart thudded with anxiety.
He pushed harder. Whatever was inside the bag was solid yet spongy. His fingers slid over it, establishing its shape as vaguely round and about the size of his fist. He reached the bottom of the bag and felt something wet and sticky.
Suddenly the smell resolved in his mind. Blood. Not fresh but definitely blood. He continued to explore, working his hand into the bag and feeling the wet, tough, sticky object it contained. With a shock, he comprehended what was in the bag.
A human heart. Garrett Bloom’s heart.
But Betty had said the evil spirit, Kyle Stillwater, killed Bloom and used his heart to trap Rachel’s spirits. If that was true, then why did she have it?
And if it wasn’t true …
RACHEL WAS CHIN-DEEP in the water now, and so scared tears ran freely down her cheeks. How could she have let this happen? Whatever lived in this lake, whatever she was approaching at her most open and vulnerable, it was not the kind, loving spirits she’d known in the other lakes. She felt them swirling around her, malicious and cruel, biding their time. But for what?
Then she froze. Hands touched her waist. A presence loomed up behind her, no spirit but flesh and blood. Definitely flesh and blood; she felt his erection press against the small of her back.
“Hello, Rachel,” Kyle Stillwater said.
The words shot through her, and she would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught her under the arms and turned her to face him. She was weak with a surge of unwanted desire, limp in his hands, and the water lifted her feet from the bottom. Her legs drifted apart on their own, and she could hardly breathe.
She looked up at him, silhouetted against the starry sky overhead. She didn’t want him rationally, but the primal need swelling in her with every second could not be controlled much longer. He was right there; all she had to do was guide him where she wanted him to be.…
She could not see his face, but his voice purred with confidence. “We never did finish what we started the other night, did we? Is that what you’re here to do?”
Yes, she wanted to scream. Yes, take me, fuck me, end this awful sense of hovering and send me over the edge! She had to grit her teeth against the words.
“Just say it,” he murmured. “Say what you want.” She could feel him hard and ready, bobbing in the water. He lifted her slightly and eased her forward, ready to claim his prize.
And then Ethan’s voice rang out from shore. “Rachel, don’t! It’s a trap!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BETTY WHIRLED TOWARD Ethan. “Shut the fuck up!” she snarled, and began lobbing fist-sized rocks from the streambed. He tried to elude them in the darkness, but one hit him solidly in the temple and he fell, dazed.
By the time he shook off the stars, Betty stood over him with a stick she’d evidently snatched from the ground. It was a yard long, and the end above his head was jaggedly sharp. “You’ve just outlived your usefulness,” she hissed, and drove the crude spear at Ethan’s head.
He rolled aside, and it struck the concrete base of the little observation deck. Acting on instinct, he kicked her feet out from under her, and she fell hard on her back. He rolled on his own back beside her and drove his elbow hard into her sternum. She gasped in pain.
Then he straddled her, pinned her arms with his knees, and held her by the hair. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded. “Who the fuck are you?”
She glared up at him, her eyes jet-black in the darkness.
AT ETHAN’S WARNING, Rachel found the strength to wrench herself away from Stillwater. “No!” she managed to cry, before he claimed her and everything was lost. She fell into the water with a clumsy, loud splash.
Instantly she was disoriented, and when she tried to kick her way back toward the surface she encountered only more water. The dark currents changed chaotically, tumbling her until all sense of direction was useless.
Then watery hands began clutching roughly at her. They were similar to the ones formed by her lake spirits, but these were knobby, sharp-nailed, and groping. They touched her everywhere with no regard for gentleness, and she writhed uselessly to escape them.
The depleted air in her lungs burned, and she fought the urge to let it out, knowing that only dank Wingra water awaited her. She clenched her teeth against the bubbles, but they escaped, and that desire to take the next breath grew too powerful. I’m going to drown! she thought helplessly.
A new hand, solid and powerful, closed around her throat. Suddenly she was yanked from the water and found herself staring into Kyle Stillwater’s face. But it wasn’t the desperately handsome visage she’d seen before: This was a sharp-featured, black-eyed demon glaring at her with utter contempt.
She clutched at his forearm and kicked madly at the water. She still needed to breathe, but his iron fingers held her windpipe shut so tightly she could get only the slightest bit of air. He pulled her close against him, and she again felt his erection touch her.
“I’m going to take you so hard you won’t survive it,” he hissed. “I’ve locked your spirits away from you, and when I’m done with you, I’ll use your heart to trap them forever. Any heart will hold them, but only yours will torment them. How does that sound? I’m going to love you to death.”
Fury surged through her at the threat. “With what?” she croaked, and used both hands to bend his erection like a dry twig.
He screamed and released her. This time she hit the water swimming and headed back toward the inlet and the spring. With each stroke she expected the vile clawed hands to grab her and pull her down, but they didn’t. When the water was shallow enough, she stood up and splashed through it, ignoring the pain in her bare feet. She looked back over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Stillwater.
She heard Ethan’s voice demanding, “Who the fuck are you?” and then Betty’s cold laugh. She climbed over the rail, soaking wet and shivering from the wind, and saw Ethan astride Betty.
“Wh-what happened?” she asked, rubbing her pebbled arms with her hands.
Ethan didn’t look away from the woman he held. “She killed Garrett Bloom, not Kyle Stillwater.”
“What?” Rachel gasped. She knelt by the open satchel and pulled out the plastic bag. The smell and weight confirmed what Ethan said: This was a human heart, Garrett Bloom’s heart. Any heart will hold them, Stillwater had said.
Betty began to cry. “He’s gone.…”
“Are they in here?” Rachel demanded. “Are my spirits inside this?”
Through her tears she snarled, “Of course. I sucked them in like minnows in a vacuum cleaner. They were so weak they couldn’t even fight back, thanks to you.”
Rachel’s blush of shame was hidden by the darkness. “Let her go, Ethan. This is all we need.”
“Yes, it is,” Kyle Stillwater said from inches away.
Rachel jumped and backed into the rail, which was cold against her bare buttocks. Stillwater stood naked before her, feet wide, hands balled into fists. Water trickled from his sculpted body. He was no longer erect but still radiated danger. “Now give me the heart.”
Rachel was trapped against the rail, and the wind grew more violent. The memory of his fingers at her throat made her tremble even more. “No,” she said.
Behind Stillwater, Ethan rose like a dark, avenging shadow. “Let her alone and back away, pretty boy.”
Stillwater did not look around. To Rachel he said, “I will snap him in half and then take my revenge on you. His death will at least be quick. Now give me the heart.”
In a small voice Betty said, “Artemak?”
Stillwater looked as if he’d heard a ghost. He turned away from Rachel as if she didn’t exist and looked down at Betty. “I am Artemak. Who are you?”
“Teculor,” Betty said, her voice trembling. She got to her feet, smoothing down her sundress. “I am Teculor. Look at what they’ve done to me.”
Stillwater looked Betty over intently. He seemed to have forgotten Rachel and Ethan. “Teculor,” he breathed in wonder.
“They have made me into a woman,” Betty said hatefully. “A woman! My body is weak, and prone to disgusting things, and I can do nothing to stop it.”
“Teculor, my brother,” Stillwater said. His own voice shook now. “What is going on here?”
“I saw you the day you emerged at the park. I knew your presence meant that the sanctimonious netherworlders who imprisoned you had been weakened enough for you to escape. So I made a sacrifice. It was so simple, Artemak. They flowed into the heart just as easily as they once flowed out. I could hear their screams.” She nodded at Rachel. “Then tonight I used their avatar to summon you, to present you with this gift.”
“I’m here, my brother. I locked our jailers into their lake at the first opportunity, but it took me some time to wrest full control of this form from the consciousness that inhabited it.”
“I know. I had the same trouble with this one at first.” They both giggled, siblings sharing an inside joke.
Ethan slipped around the two and stood beside Rachel, one hand across her shoulders. He took the heart from her and held it out of sight behind his back. Then he slowly eased them both down the railing, trying to get in a position to make a run for it. Rachel slid her bare feet along the concrete.
Betty suddenly turned serious. “You must help me, Artemak. I have lived in this form for years now, and I can bear it no longer.”
“Anything, my brother,” Stillwater said.
Betty’s voice was so small that Rachel barely heard it. “Free me from this prison. Being a mere spirit is better than this soft, pliable flesh.”
Stillwater sounded genuinely regretful. “I cannot. It would take all my power, and I will not allow myself to be that weak again. You must endure this until its normal span of time reaches its end.”
“You must try!” Betty shrieked, simultaneously petulant and desperate. “You are my brother!”
Rachel and Ethan were almost in the clear. Ethan gave her the barest nod toward the trail. Rachel squeezed his hand in acknowledgment.
Stillwater took another step back from Betty. “I thank you for your help, my brother. Together we have defeated those who judged themselves superior to us. Now I will destroy them utterly. It will not be as poetic as I had planned, but it will be just as permanent.”
Simultaneously Betty screamed, “No!” and Stillwater flung himself at Rachel and Ethan. Instinctively Ethan pushed Rachel aside and braced for the impact, but Stillwater was supernaturally nimble. He snatched the plastic bag from Ethan’s hand and leaped over the rail. He landed in the shallow spring pool and kept going down into the water until he disappeared.
Rachel did not even pause to think. She jumped up, put one bare foot on the rail, and leaped in after him. Ethan was an instant behind her.
By the time Betty got to the rail, three people had vanished into a pool barely six inches deep. The surface rippled to show their passage, but otherwise there was no sign of them. Betty heaved herself onto the rail and jumped but landed with a painful thud in the shallow water. She sat there helplessly, knowing where they’d gone but unable to follow. Only willpower opened the channel between the worlds, and her will was imprisoned with her masculine spirit, both impotent inside her female form.
