Chapter 20
XX.
The dinghy wobbles as I step in, but Nate braces against the dock, keeping it steady. Once I make it over the edge, I collapse on the bench, my legs wavering.
Another cry echoes from the cliffs, and an arrow whistles past my ear, forcing my attention.
“Let’s go.” I plunge the paddles into the water and row, keeping my eyes on the souldiers and not the liquid swirling beneath the boat.
The souldiers break into two groups, one set running down the ramps to the shore. The others meld into a solid line on the cliff as they load arrows from the quivers on their backs. When I glance over my shoulder, the dock is still in clear view, souldiers spreading across the shores behind it.
We’re not moving fast enough.
“Nate.” I kick at a second pair of oars laying across the bottom of the boat. “A little help?”
“Right.” He blinks, then grabs the oars. We synchronize our strokes, and the boat speeds up, but we’re not fast enough. An arrow sails at Nate’s face.
“Nate! Get down!”
Dropping my oars, I leap across the boat and knock him over so he’s sprawled beneath me. The arrow whistles over us, skimming my hair.
My stomach sloshes as the boat rocks, and I plant my elbows on either side of him.
Every inch of us lines up. We’re still breathless from the run to the boat, and we pant in rhythm, our chests rising and falling together. I’m no longer sure if it’s my heart or his knocking against my rib cage.
He gives a sly smile. “If you wanted me on my back, you could’ve just asked.”
Glowering, I open my mouth to retort when a wave slams against us, rocking us violently.
I cry out and grip Nate’s forearms, pressing my face into his chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him until the boat stops swaying and I relax deeper into him.
“I get it now,” he says. “What happened back there on the shore. You’re afraid of water.”
Raising my head, I scowl at him through the hair pasted to my face. “I’m not afraid. I’m…not used to it. The only waters in Dominus are the rivers leading into the city of sin, and I have no reason to use them.”
He brushes my hair behind my ear, and my skin tingles where he touches. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Lots of people have a fear of water.”
I roll off him onto my back and study the orange balls rotating over our heads. “You know, you should be scared of this lake, too.”
“No, I love the water. I spend—spent—most of my life at the beach gazing out at the ocean. The vastness felt like freedom. It was the only thing that brought me peace.”
Warmth tingles through my chest like electricity. “I have stars painted over my bed for the same reason. I always wondered what it would be like to watch Earth’s sky at night and gaze up at the stars. It must feel…endless. And not sad endless like the black pit over Dominus, but freeing endless.”
I turn my head at the same time he turns his and we stare at each other, understanding connecting us like an invisible string. He leans closer, all traces of amusement clearing from his eyes.
“Devica,” he whispers.
I snap my head away and stare at the wall of the boat, my fingers coiling against my stomach.
It has to be the human side of me relating to him this way. It’ll disappear when he does, as will the desire to press my body deeper into him and never leave the peace of this boat, even if it means staying on the water.
Another group of arrows screech over us, piercing my thoughts. They tumble into the water with tiny splashes.
Right. We’re still under attack.
“Well.” I clear my throat. “We’d better get moving if you want to get back to the oceans on Earth.”
“Yeah.” The word is coated in sadness.
I push myself onto my elbows to get an idea of our position, and an arrow soars toward my face. Dropping onto my back, I hold my breath as it streaks over us and drops in front of the dinghy.
“Guess we’re rowing from down here.” I reach for my oars and curse under my breath when my fingers encounter only air. “Uh, Nate? I dropped my oars. Do you think you can get us moving with yours?”
“Maybe,” Nate says. “But it’d be easier if we each take a side.”
He waves an oar over my face. I angle it into the water, tightening my grip so it doesn’t fall. If we lose another oar, we’re screwed. Stuck going in a circle till the souldiers reach us. Or the things in this lake do.
“Okay.” I tighten my jaw. “We have to row at the exact same time. On three. One…two…three…row.” The water sloshes around us, and the boat is propelled forward. I breathe slowly against the movement and reposition my oar. “Again.”
Another cluster of arrows scream across the sky.
They’re too high and they rain down on us, plunking into the water and between our legs. One pierces the hull of the boat beside me, the tip slicing through the wood like teeth. I hiss as it scrapes my shoulder, drawing blood.
“Are you okay?” Nate asks, panting hard as he rows.
“Yeah.” I ignore the burning in my arm and maintain our speed with my oar. “Just a scratch. Faster.”
He complies, and I match his strokes. We find a rhythm quickly, oars slicing through the water to a steady beat. I glance up every so often to confirm we remain on course before dropping my head back into the boat.
Eventually, the arrows fall short of us, plopping into the water with small splats. When the cries of the souldiers turn to distant echoes, I sit up.
Lapis has retreated into the horizon. From here, the stone walls and torches look like buildings in the distance.
Ahead of us, Lot Eight looms. Its size is impressive. It occupies the bulk of the horizon, the trees surrounding it cutting eerie silhouettes against the suns in the sky.
A chill creeps across the back of my neck, and I tug my cloak around me. We’ll have to skirt around the land and hope we can find a shore that’s not occupied with more souldier camps. There’s no way I’m going into another lot.
Nate pulls himself into the seat across from me, his face contorted as he holds the dripping oar above the water. “It looks like blood.”
“It is.” I rotate my shoulder, attempting to get feeling back into my arm. “Father’s nothing if not gruesome.”
“His reputation on Earth is well-earned.” Nate eyes the bottom of the boat. He leans forward and lets out a low mutter. “Uh, Devica?”
“Yeah?” I settle my oar between my legs and lift the hair from the back of my neck. I thought Dominus was hot, but at least we didn’t have three freaking suns to contend with.
“Do you think this might be a problem?” Nate holds up an arrow, the tip dripping red.
“Where’d you get that?”
“From the bottom of the boat. It pierced a hole right through the keel. I wondered why my foot was wet—and, well… I don’t think it’s the only arrow that damaged us.”
“What?” I lift the hem of my dress and gasp. My boots are leather, so I hadn’t felt the thick, red goo surrounding my feet. And it’s spreading toward my calves.
The breath whooshes out of my lungs, and I hug myself, rocking on my seat.
This isn’t happening.
“Devica.” Nate claps his hands in front of my face, and I jump. “I know you’re freaking out, but unless you want to learn how to swim real fast, we need to find something to plug these holes.”
I nod slowly, searching the empty dinghy. All we have is the oars and us. With trembling fingers, I undo the strings of my cloak and slip it off my shoulders. “What about this?”
“Worth a shot.”
He takes it, and my stomach lurches as we rock while he spreads the fabric over the bottom of the boat, shoving it into the small holes. I hold my breath as my beloved cloak disappears under a sea of red.
Well, fuck.
“We’ve taken too much damage.” Nate peers over the side of the boat. “It might be time for you to learn how to swim.”
“Even if I could, we can’t go into these waters.” I point to the dark shapes below the surface and the grouping of fins angling toward us in the distance. A pair of bright white teeth gnash at my fingers, and I snap them back to my side. “They’re guarded by Father’s water demons.”
“Of course they are.” Nate rolls his eyes and lets out a long groan. “Well then, we’d better get ourselves to land. And fast.”
We row like our lives depend on it—which they do. We head for the lot ahead, the water thickening the closer we get to the island.
Warm liquid pools around my feet, and I wrinkle my nose when it seeps through my skirt and swirls between my legs. That’s going to stain.
The creatures flock around us, gnashing their teeth and snarling with every inch that we sink.
Nate yelps as one of the creatures jumps out of the water and narrowly misses locking its jaws on his nose.
Father once told me that he shaped these beasts after sharks on Earth, except these creatures are black, their bodies etched with scars. Their eyes glow yellow, helping them traverse the waters with ease. On their backs, mangled fins break the water’s surface, drooping over themselves with age.
We hit the shore with a jolt and leap out of the boat as it splits in two. The creatures grab the pieces and pull them under, growling and squealing until everything disappears beneath the surface.
Nate wipes his brow with a bloody hand, smearing scarlet across his forehead. “That was close. Sorry about your boat.”
“Not mine.” I wave his apology away and focus on the gate in front of us. The door to the lot is solid gold, etched with tiny designs—various symbols for money used all over the world. The metal glints against the bright orbs circling overhead.
My insides twist like the trees in the distance. There are only three ways off this island: the bridge above us that leads right back to the souldiers we just escaped, the second bridge on the other side of the lot, and the water full of hungry creatures.
Only one option is the obvious answer.
I reach for the handle but stop when Nate touches my wrist.
He nods at my shoulder. “You’re bleeding. Are you okay?”
I peer down at the spot where the arrow sliced my skin, then wrench the door open with a loud crack. “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with. Nathan Reynolds, welcome to Lot Eight: Greed.”