Chapter 25
CHRISTOPHER
I’m really starting to hate this guy.
Making me climb up two stories of slick marble was one thing, but using my crew member as fish bait?
That’s a whole different level of fucked up.
“Hang in there, mate. I’m going to get you out.”
He must sense my presence through the thick panes of reinforced glass because Finley slowly blinks his eyes open.
Wild and unfocused, they look about as fucked up as you would expect for someone to wake up underwater. An oxygen mask clings to his face, the life source keeping his lungs replenished diminishing by the second.
Six minutes. Fifty-four seconds.
That fucker’s got a sick sense of humour.
Finley must read the hopelessness in my expression because he starts to struggle. Thick chains keep his arms and legs pinned to the metal folding chair, the sadistic contraption keeping everything except his clothes from moving with the water.
“Just breathe. Everything is going to be okay.”
Six minutes. Thirty-nine seconds.
Scanning the base of the aquarium, I search for a quick release latch, an emergency valve, anything that would give me direct access to the bottom of the fishbowl. Nothing turns up, and with the number on Finley’s oxygen tank counting down, it leaves me with one alternative.
Going in through the top.
Considering how long it took me to get down here, I calculate it will take me twice as long to get back up. That leaves my crew member less than three minutes of oxygen should everything go to plan.
Which, given my track record, is not fucking likely.
Readying myself to start climbing once more, the saving grace comes in the form of a ladder. Clinging to the side of the aquarium like my own personal saviour, the metal rungs are the perfect solution to my problem.
But now I have to get to the ladder.
Grabbing the edge of a nearby sewer pipe, I hoist my body up and over the massive cylinder. My sneakers slip and slide on the slick edge, but a fumbling start has me close enough to lunge for the ladder.
I catch it with inches to spare, and without a moment of hesitation, I start climbing.
Up past the sandy blonde hair floating through the water.
Up past the sea creatures eyeing me hungrily through the glass.
When I finally reach the top, a grated bridge awaits me. Suspended over the rippling water, I can hear the generator coughing and churning while dark shadows swim in the depths below.
Water splashes up and seeps into my sneakers, soaking my socks and dampening my spirits as I stare into the blue haze of death. Eels of all shapes and sizes swarm every corner of the oversized fishbowl, the sheer quantity of the serpents blocking my view of Finley entirely.
“Bloody hell.”
Willing myself to jump, I’m about to make the worst mistake of my life when a rod catches my eye. Kept off to the side, it sits neatly beside a bucket of chow that has seen better days.
A sad looking lasso hangs off the end of a cleaning stick, the thin wire just long enough to wrap around the tin bucket nearby. Pulling the cords as wide as they can go, I send up a prayer and cast the line.
The eels immediately swarm the stick, its intruder status placing them on high alert as I slowly lower it into the water. Pelts of liquid hit my pants and shoes, the cold surge making my muscles clench as I struggle to keep my grip.
“Come on... goddamn it.”
Falling a few inches short, the wire grazes the top of Finley’s head.
There’s no more rod to hold, so I risk life and limb and lie myself flat on the ground.
Nose-to-fucking-nose with the piece of metal keeping me above water.
Frigid liquid laps at my hands as I shove the rod farther down. Something slimy brushes my fingers and it takes every ounce of willpower not to drop the fucking thing and run for my life.
Just a little farther.
I can feel the weight of the chains as I wiggle and slide the wire through the back of Finley’s chair. Twisting my arm until my rotator cuff begs for mercy, I keep pushing until the loop hits the aquarium floor.
Time slows to a standstill when I start to lift him. Slowly, carefully, so the wire doesn’t come free from its position, I drag the back of the chair off the ground and up through the water.
There’s no way of knowing if there’s any oxygen left in Finley’s tank, but I carry on as if there is. Crew members don’t abandon their own and I’ll be damned if Wolf Hollow breaks the one rule that’s guided my life to this point.
Never leave anyone behind.
Sea creatures crowd the chair, the sleek bodies converging around Finley as if he’s their final meal of the day. Being eaten upside down while a stranger drags you ass-first out of the water probably isn’t the best way to go, but fuck, it’s the best I’ve got.
The angle gets too awkward until I have no choice but to free hand it. Tucking my feet along the opposite end of the bridge, I make a desperate grab for the back of Finley’s chair.
Plunging both arms into the freezing water, I manage to wrap my fingers around the chains hanging from Finley’s body. Sharp metal digs into my palms as I yank upwards, feeling the weightlessness of the water slip away.
Gravity takes hold and we both go careening forward. My head breaches the surface, sending a surge of saltwater up my nose and down my throat.
Choking and barely holding on with my lower half, I can’t see anything except the shadows swarming my vision. Something brushes the back of my neck and the unnatural texture is more than enough to freak me out.
Jerking back, I rip my face out of the water and gulp down a breath.
And then I try again.
And again.
And again.
By the time I drag Finley out of the water, the stench of sweat and failure is clinging to the shivering surface of my skin.
0 minutes. 0 seconds.
The timer beeps at me mockingly, the noise far too loud now that it’s not underwater. I stare at the red numbers, feeling nothing but the weight on my chest.
The concrete cylinder threatening to suffocate me.
Unforgiving metal digs into my knees as I sink down, staring at Finley's lifeless body.
He was so young.
Guilt knocks into me like a sledgehammer, bludgeoning me until I’m gasping for air. It’s a terrible sort of sound, one that doesn’t sound quite right coming out of my mouth.
“Did you know aquaphobia is most prevalent among adults? Having a fear of water is surprisingly common, although many do not understand the side effects associated.”
Polished dress shoes tap along the bridge, casually ambling closer.
“Swimming, bathing, even being near rain can trigger an anxiety so strong it rivals the sensation of drowning. The shortness of breath, the rapid heartbeat, the unbearable pressure in one’s chest. It is, perhaps, the cruelest fear a person can give to someone.”
I watch the Sea Witch’s son adjust his cufflinks before bending down and prying the oxygen mask off Finley’s face.
“This man is responsible for the trauma my little saint has to face every day.”
The Seaborn family crest glitters against the droplets clinging to the dead man’s skin, a dead man who apparently got what he deserved.
“Tonight, I finally returned the favour.”
A tarnished key unlocks the chains around Finley’s chest and the oxygen tank falls to the floor.
Giving me a clear shot of his chest rising and collapsing with every breath.
“What... how is that possible?”
Marlin tilts his head, studying the scars carved deep into the unconscious man’s shoulder.
“It would seem numbers are not the only thing that lie around here.”
If there was a drop of energy left in my body, I would stand up and push the fucker over the edge. Laugh and watch him flail around with the eels to see how he likes it.
“I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this.” Lying flat on the ground, I close my eyes and breathe for the first time this evening, “But you’re one sick bastard.”
“That does come up in conversation. More often than you would think.”
“What a surprise.”
He doesn’t laugh at my dry tone.
“Don’t forget to clean up this mess before you leave.”
“Mm.”
“I expect everything to be put back where it belongs.” A meaningful pause, “Including the silverware you’ve got tucked in your back pocket.”
“Fuck off and let me get some rest.”
He sighs loudly before the sound of his expensive shoes starts to fade.
“Oh, and Deville?”
A beat passes before I force my eyes open.
“Congratulations.”
The piece of paper hits my chest. Kiss marks smear the front page, the deadly shade of lipstick one I know far too well.
Opening it up, I find four words waiting for me.
Four words that flip my world upside down.
Welcome to the team.