Chapter Forty-Six The Tide Changes
Chapter Forty-Six
The Tide Changes
Filippa and I return from the garden alone.
We also—somehow—return human.
When we swim into the grotto, everything remains just as we left it—Lou and Reid sit on either side of my mother, while Odessa stands sentry between them and the revenants. Death waits at the shore impatiently, tapping his foot like a petulant child, before splashing out to meet us in the shallows. Seizing first Filippa’s arm, then mine, he wrenches us from the waves before turning to search for Michal. “Well?” he snaps. “Where is he?”
I collapse to the ground at his feet, struggling to breathe after navigating the vicious current. My limbs tremble with exhaustion, and my lungs ache; my throat is blistered and raw. “He—he refused to come back with us.”
“Excuse me?” Death asks sharply, his eyes widening. “What did you say?”
Sensing the danger, Odessa urges Lou, Reid, and my mother toward the stairs, bending down to snatch up Jean Luc and Brigitte at the last second. They remain unconscious. Though the revenants silently follow, circling them, Death doesn’t seem to notice; his attention remains fixed upon me, his silver eyes darkening, swirling, building like a storm on the horizon. Good.
“Has your hearing deteriorated since we left?” I ask him. “Michal didn’t come.”
I refuse to flinch—to reveal anything—as Death crouches, seizing my collar and bringing my mouth to his ear.
“Say it again,” he snarls.
“He said no .” I gesture between myself and Filippa, who has managed to remain standing despite her heaving chest. Eyes narrowed, she does not move to defend me, but she doesn’t move to join the revenants either. “We dragged him from the river, but Michal knew if he came back the veil would fall. I couldn’t force him.” Lip curling, I gesture down at my own human body, soaking wet and slight—much too slight to overpower Michal, even if I’d tried.
I couldn’t force him.
And that is perhaps the worst part of all—that I could not convince him, that he would not listen to my pleas. Michal chose to stay in the garden to save the world, and how could I ever take that choice away from him?
“He... said no,” Death repeats silkily.
And—without any further warning—he erupts.
Exploding to his feet, Death throws up his hands before dragging them through his hair, tearing at the strands and screaming with rage. Startled, I fall backward before clambering into the shallows to escape him. “IT SEEMS I HAVE NOT BEEN CLEAR ”—he sweeps the contents from Michal’s desk—“IF YOU THOUGHT NO WAS AN OPTION!” He upends the desk without ceremony, but—apparently unsatisfied—next picks up the mantel clock and launches it across the grotto at Odessa. The revenants part like puppets, and it shatters against her back as she spins to protect the others, to shield them, and wood ricochets in all directions. “Do you not understand the consequences ? Do you think this is a game ?”
He hurls the entire desk at me now, and I just manage to flatten myself upon the rocks as it hurtles overhead. Panic claws up my throat as I roll to avoid the matching chair, then a bedpost, which Death has wrenched from its frame; it streaks into the maelstrom like a javelin. And this— this is bad . Scrambling for the desk chair, I dive behind it for cover, unable to catch my breath. My limbs threaten to fold at the burst of movement, still exhausted from fighting the maelstrom.
I’d forgotten just how feeble my body could feel, but this isn’t the time or place for weakness. Though I knew Death would react like this, I failed to distract him long enough for the others to escape. Now they crouch halfway across the room, trapped by revenants, while Odessa snarls and knocks aside another bedpost. She cannot protect five people by herself, however—not with two unconscious and two more on the verge of collapse.
My mother screams as Death advances—shunting aside his precious revenants when they don’t move fast enough—his skin flushed, mottling with rage. “I told you this would happen! I warned you—”
“ Filippa! ” Desperately, I lunge toward her, stumbling to where she stands by the shore and watches in silence. “Filippa, PLEASE—”
Death snarls again at that, whirling abruptly—changing tack unexpectedly and charging toward us instead. He mimics my voice in a terrifying shriek. “Yes, Filippa, please ! Please, PLEASE, tell me exactly how I should fillet your mother and sister because of your incompetence, your failure .” He bares his teeth in a truly crazed smile. “Tell me exactly how I should—”
“I did what you asked.” Filippa lifts her chin at his approach, unflinching, and meets his maniacal gaze without fear. “I guided my sister to your realm, and I brought her safely back again. Where is my daughter?”
“What I asked ?” Death’s eyes bulge incredulously. “You are willfully— You have not — I WANT THE VEIL DOWN, FILIPPA,” he bellows into her face. “HAVE YOU brOUGHT THE VEIL DOWN?”
“You are clearly overcome”—her voice drips disdain—“and unable to control your emotions.” Sneering, she shakes her head. “I should’ve realized it sooner, but I didn’t—or perhaps couldn’t. I foolishly agreed to help you, to obey you, in exchange for my sister’s protection and my daughter’s return. You broke the first condition without hesitation, but I will not allow you to break the second. Not after everything I’ve done.” She draws herself up to her full height now, squaring her shoulders and glaring at Death like he is not a primordial entity but an unpleasant little boy in need of scolding. And despite everything, I cannot help but admire her for it.
I have always admired her for it.
As if I’d ever let anything happen to you, Célie.
“Now,” she says coldly, “allow me to repeat myself— where is my daughter? ”
Death actually spasms in response now. Then his fingers curl around Filippa’s shoulders, and he says, “I could not give a single fuck about your daughter. If she was still in your belly, I would throw you both into that maelstrom just for the pleasure of watching you drown.”
And there it is—the truth we’ve all tried to speak gently, now spoken with cruelty instead. Unimaginable cruelty. Despicable cruelty. I never wanted her to hear it, never wanted her to break, but now she knows the depths of Death’s depravity, the lengths to which he will go. She knows Death does not care, that he never cared, and he will never bring her daughter back either.
Filippa stiffens beneath his touch as she realizes it too. And though Death clearly feels no remorse, I still do; it tightens my throat as her eyes lock with mine and fierce understanding passes between us.
A look that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Whatever idiotic scheme you’ve concocted”—Death’s fingers tighten on Filippa with brutal force—“I suggest you reconsider. As your sister has pointed out, you’re both quite soft again, darling. Quite vulnerable.”
Though Filippa opens her mouth to answer, he squeezes harder— too hard—and she cries out in pain as her clavicle snaps. He doesn’t stop there, however. He continues to squeeze, and though I leap at him—horrified, panic-stricken—he catches my arm and launches me into the sea, where I plunge straight into the bands of swirling water. Choking now, I struggle to keep my head aloft—my legs spasming, cramping, seizing against the tide—as Death throws Filippa in too, and she screams before plummeting below the surface.
“ Filippa! ” Frantic now, I dive toward her because she cannot swim; he broke her bones , and the current—it’s too strong, too fast —
My fingers catch her wrist as Death careens into the shallows after us, but I cannot focus on him. I cannot focus on anything but Filippa. Filippa. She flounders in my hand, clawing up my arm, and I heave her forward with all my might. I fling her toward the islet with the next sweep of the current, and she understands instantly, grappling at the rock with her good arm. Her fingers catch a dip in its surface. When she hooks a leg over the ledge, however, the same current tows me away again, and I hold my breath—lungs splitting—as it pulls me back under. As it pulls me down—
Down.
Down.
And somewhere above, I hear another scream, followed by an abrupt slipstream as something— someone —plunges into the depths beside me. My heart sinks as large hands thrust down upon my shoulders, my head, pushing me deeper in an effort to catapult themselves upward. Gritting my teeth, I catch their waist at the last second, and we burst through the surface together.
Death.
He snarls, attempting to disentangle himself, but I will not drown in this wretched place. I will not . Clamping my limbs around him, I climb up his body and refuse to let go. Though we thrash like a pair of eels—Death cursing and spluttering and wrenching my hair until lights pop across my vision—my mother stands stricken in my periphery, in the shallows , her hands still outstretched as if she—
As if she pushed him.
Revenants descend on her in the next second, and my grip on Death loosens. Before he can break free, however, we spiral downward in the treacherous current—deeper this time. Closer to the heart of the maelstrom. And this wasn’t part of the plan, not with Michal and Dimitri still down there, still waiting , but I bring my knees to my chest and kick outward at Death. I strike at him, and I pray it’ll be enough. Though he tries to seize my wrist—still snarling, determined to take me with him—I twist at the last second, and he catches my sleeve instead.
When the fabric tears beneath his fingers, I slip from his grasp, and the current rips him through the veil. We did it.
I cannot stop to celebrate, however; I cannot even pause to check on Filippa.
I can only pray she’ll be ready when I return.
And—without waiting another second—I take a deep breath and dive after Death.