Chapter XXIII
XXIII.
I turn, and my eyes widen in horror.
The door to Lot Eight stands open, the bottom of it wedged in mud. That’s not the worst of it, though.
The Greedy spill out of the door, surprised cries bursting from their chapped lips. The sludge doesn’t slow them down. They’re up and over the ladder by the time I’ve dragged Nate to the end of the bridge. They use the railings to heave their bodies along, clambering across the bridge toward me.
I could try to outrun them, but Nate’s still literal dead weight on my back. My muscles throb, and I’m out of breath from the climb. There has to be some way to stop them.
Bracing Nate against the railing, I drop to my knees and inspect the bridge. The planks are held together by the same yellowing thread as the railings, looped and knotted around wooden posts at either end.
Beneath us, Lake Sanguis swirls, teeming with fins slicing in and out of the water. I shudder, grateful that I’d been too focused on hauling Nate to safety to notice our precarious position.
Kneeling in the muddy embankment, I yank one of the ropes, and the bridge sways. A shadeling tumbles into the red water below with a soft splash. The liquid bubbles as creatures swarm them, silencing their screams.
I gag and turn my head. Better them than me. Besides, the creatures will eventually return them to Lot Eight when they’re done playing.
Standing, I grab Nate and sling him over my back again before taking a deep breath and drawing my sword.
Here goes nothing.
I plant my feet into the mud and swing. The first rope is already thinning like Mr. Bellum’s hair, so my blade makes quick work of it. I hack at the bottom rope on the second post until it’s severed.
The shadelings waver but don’t fall. They stagger closer as I push my bangs off my forehead and wipe my brow.
Nate groans against my back. Shushing him, I hike him higher before sawing the third rope.
Two more to go. Then the shadelings will be the creatures’ problem instead of mine.
A shadeling ahead of the pack lets out a delighted shriek and reaches for the ruby on my finger.
“Oh no you don’t.” I stretch out my hand to push them away, and a ball of fire bursts from my palm, striking the shadeling in the chest. They scream and stumble into the others, knocking them over like naked, human dominoes.
I stare at my palm with wide eyes. Fireballs. That’s new.
The top rope shudders and snaps beneath my blade.
The shadelings wobble on the uneven planks, their bodies slick with grime.
Two fall onto their backs before sliding down the planks and dropping into the water below.
The rest watch, frozen with fear. Some grab for the railing and howl, their eyes pleading.
The back of my throat burns, and I close my eyes against their piteous looks. “Sorry,” I whisper. “You belong to the creatures now.”
Then I swing my sword down on the final rope.
The bridge collapses with a loud snap, the shadelings making no sound as they disappear below. The fins swarm them in an instant.
Grunting, I hoist Nate up on my shoulders and start down the ladder on our side to the shore below. I take my time as my boots are slick with mud and slip on the metal bars. By the time I make it to the bottom, my fingers ache from gripping the railing too tightly.
Massaging my hand, I scour our surroundings.
We need a place to hide so that Nate can recover, preferably far from here. The trackers on the greedy shadelings will alert the souldiers of their escape and send them right for us. We need to be gone before they get here.
A loud rumble draws my attention to the right, and my stomach sinks.
Or they’ve already arrived.
The souldier boat is more impressive than the dinghy Nate and I took to the island.
It has a metal roof and is large enough to carry at least ten souldiers.
It’s one of the newer boats in Father’s fleet.
Faster than the wooden dinghy and fueled by coal, the steel hull is stainproof and impervious to the sharp teeth of the creatures in Lake Sanguis.
That’ll do.
The boat propels the souldiers to the shore, where they leap out in tandem and chase the dripping shadelings emerging from the water. The Greedy wail and reach for the souldiers’ weapons. One manages to rip off a boot and holds it over its head like a trophy.
With the souldiers distracted, I sprint as fast as Nate’s weight will allow toward the boat. They didn’t even leave anyone behind to guard it. Works for me.
Taking a deep breath, I climb the ramp leading to the boat. It’s large enough we could spread out across the floor and not touch. The walls are high, the metal impervious to not only the creatures below, but the souldiers’ arrows.
As far as getaway vehicles go, we could do worse.
We have done worse.
I drop Nate onto the empty floor with a thud and run to the controls. There’s only a wheel and a lever. Okay, it looks easy enough. But nothing’s ever easy here.
I shove the lever forward, and nothing happens. Sweat builds on the back of my neck, and I survey the rest of the bow. I sigh inwardly at the metal doors under the steering wheel.
Right. I have to start it first.
I open the compartment that contains the coals and frown. There’s no starter. I search for a button or a lit torch, but there’s nothing among the coals or by the steering wheel. This is why the souldiers didn’t leave anyone behind. They took the starter with them.
Well, they took a starter with them.
I stare down at my palms. It worked on the bridge. Please do it again. Closing my eyes, I hold out my arm and picture the coals catching. Heat flares down my arm and blasts through my palm. The coals spark, then glow orange with light, and the engine roars to life.
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. This will come in handy.
“Hey!” a souldier cries from the shore. “Get out of there!”
Snapping my head up, I knee the doors to the compartment closed and reach for the lever before taking a deep breath.
Here goes nothing.