Blood in the Water (5 page)

Oh, brilliant, a tea tray. That looks safe. And we’re going
boarding on them? In pairs?

“
Grab on.” Ruble’s voice is pumped with adrenaline, and he
reaches back, taking my hand and wrapping it round his narrow
waist. I cling on, harder than is probably necessary, and move
forward until he’s basically sitting on my lap, our feet only
inches apart as we stand—surfer style—with our left sides facing
the river.

“
What’s happ—” A whooshing sound drowns me out, accompanied by
a weird pearlescent light shooting from the edges of the tea-tray
device. I jump, and almost fall right into it, but Ruble steadies
me.

“
It’s a skimmer. You’ve never used one before?”

I shake
my head mutely, reaching out with my free hand to touch the glowing
surface that now surrounds us like an iridescent bubble. Sparks of
colour matching the rainbow below our feet glint in the air around
us, marking the curved shape of the magic enclosing us. At least
six different colours, meaning six warlocks must have teamed up to
make this ‘skimmer.’ Every warlock gets their own distinctive
shade, so you can usually tell who’s done what, but I don’t
recognize any of the colours here. Too old, maybe—before my
time.

Ruble
drags my attention back to him with an exclamation. “Crikey, how
long have you been on campus? Shit. Okay. Well...”

The team
next to us glides to the edge of the wharf and drops into the
water, the weight of the girls plunging the whole apparatus under.
I flinch in shock, and Ruble pats my hand. The gleaming container
pops to the surface as I watch, just metres from our feet, and
slides off over the water, leaning forward. Like a Segway—a
floating, water-riding Segway made of magic.

In it,
Louise is wielding the fierce-looking gun she’d been assembling in
the van, while her partner crouches in front of her, one hand
pressed against the inside of the bubble. A viciously serrated tail
punctures the water surface next to them, but they’re already
spinning out of the way, as if they’d seen it coming. Louise fires,
the sound muffled by distance, and gleaming purple blood flowers on
the chalky tail, which splashes back into the water, raising a huge
wave that almost capsizes the team.

I realize I’m pressed extremely tightly against Ruble’s back,
and that he’s been talking for the past few minutes, and groan
under my breath.
Can’t you listen to one
thing, Hallie, ever?

“
Are you ready?” His voice is thrumming with
excitement.

No, no, I didn’t hear a word you just said, and I have no
idea what you need from me or what I’m doing.

“
Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.” I’m pleased with how cool I sound.
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump, and I squeeze
Ruble’s waist even as he somehow starts sliding us forward. We’re
almost at the drop before I jab him.

“
Just a tick,” I mumble.

We stop
and he twitches impatiently, tapping his fingers against the back
of my hand. I fish my phone out and look at the screen. Cam. ‘Don’t
do anything stupid. If you die I’ll kick your ass. And I will post
all your terrible Buffy fanfiction online for everyone to see. With
pictures of that Halloween party!’

I grin—shaky, but feeling more normal. Shoving my phone deep
into my pocket, I look out at the turbulent waters. I’m pretty sure
I can see Cam’s six-foot figure in a bubble zipping along a few
hundred metres downstream. Obviously she managed to text and skim
at the same time.
Warriors get all the
perks.

I cross
my fingers, hoping we’ll both get out of this unscathed. “All
right. Let’s go fishing.”

Ruble
snorts and we slide again; he’s pushing against the front of the
bubble with the palm of his left hand, like Louise’s
partner.

“
Remember, this only keeps water out. Not the snakes. And not
you in—if your feet leave the board, you’ll go through the side, or
maybe the top. Squat down a bit and hold on. If you get a shot at
one of them, take it! The bullets are spelled to cut through their
scales, so they’ll feel it for sure!”

He
whoops then, and we drop off the pier, leaving my stomach behind
with the orange emergency equipment.

Is it too late to ask for a life jacket?

AND JUST LIKE THAT, WE’RE
plunging
under water, bubbles streaming past and obscuring all vision. I
squawk in surprise, digging my fingers into Ruble’s muscled
stomach. We go down what must be a couple of metres before buoyancy
asserts itself and we reverse, popping back to the surface like a
cork, the solid board beneath my feet pushing up so fast we end in
a squat, my thigh muscles screaming with the effort of balancing.
I’m grateful for Ruble’s strong grip on my forearm. He feels like
iron, firm and in perfect balance even though his butt is pressed
against my lap from the rapid ascent. I don’t mind; I feel safer
just from the contact, the adrenaline starting to bubble through my
veins making my heart sing.

Ruble
crows again and leans forward, pressing his hand harder against the
front of the skimmer, the muscle in his forearm tensing. Suddenly
we’re zooming off over the water and I join in, yelling with the
sheer joy of the movement. It’s like a rollercoaster—surfing on a
rollercoaster.

See, Dad, I knew skateboarding was gonna be useful for
something.

I keep
myself in balance, shifting my weight automatically, years of
practice coming in handy. Underfoot, through the ethereal layer of
magic and technology that’s keeping us afloat, I can see Serpents.
Two of them—one large, one small—are writhing deep in the water,
coming up toward us. I open my mouth to shout a warning, but Ruble
is already spinning us away from the approaching sea
demons.

Then
Paulie’s team swoops in, a huge war bow in the boy’s small hands,
fierce glee painting his face with exultation. He hollers something
and launches an arrow, which punches through the side of his bubble
with no ill effects. The missile sinks deep into a Serpent’s flank
in a blossom of cloudy blood, and the monster twists away from me
and my companion.

Ruble
skids us sideways, London riverbank streaming past. We’re going at
a decent clip, halfway out over the river, when my hands start to
glow.

“
Here, Ruble!” I squeak out. The smoky ghost light emanating
from my hands is drifting left, left and down, calling me to the
breach below. The insubstantial outlines of the new tattoos that
will become a permanent part of my body art, whether I like it or
not, are tingling as they form on my wrists. It looks as though
someone has drawn on me in watercolour; they’re faint now, but will
soon be dark and immutable.

The key
to this watery dimension, written on flesh. My future holds many
more, and they’ll march up my arms in an increasing procession as I
close breach after breach.

Yet another reason why I will never get a job in a
bank
. I shake the thought away, as
distractions now could get me killed, and squeeze Ruble’s
waist.

“
Left! Left and below us. Close.” The light is flowing now,
stronger, showing me the way. Ruble looks over his shoulder as he
turns the vessel, his dark eyes alight with excitement, and we skim
to a halt, floating calmly for a moment. He grins at me, and then
quickly scans the water.

“
Ready to go under?”

Do we get scuba gear?

I twist
my glowing fist into his combat jacket and shut my eyes. “Sure
thing. Just ... one question. How do I close the breach under
water?”

He crows
laughter, eyes crinkling as he makes a downward motion on the
bubble in front of him. Looking closer, I can see that his hand is
over a circular area that appears thicker, about twice the size of
his palm. It spreads out into the skimmer wall, like the heavy end
of a glass fishing float.

“
You really never listen to anything, do ya? Works the same,
just wetter.”

I furrow my eyebrows at him, and then sigh, letting it
go.
I’d probably argue that point if we
weren’t about to get eaten.

Suddenly the water laps up around the base of our bubble,
moving up the sides, pressing against it. I feel like I’m in a
translucent plastic submarine, but before I can protest we sink,
the Thames closing over our heads, sending a shiver down my
spine.
It’s a good job I’m not
particularly scared of water.
My
white-knuckled grip on Ruble’s clothes can’t be comfortable, but he
doesn’t make any effort to loosen it
.

Under
the surface, it’s dark almost immediately, the sky seeming far away
and glassy above us. We’re moving quickly, and a rush of water
spins us a little, but Ruble fights to keep us on course, dragging
his hand left, right, up, and down in patterns so fast I can barely
follow them. I feel his muscles clench as he forces the board to
obey his feet. He’s alternating between looking down, following the
mist emanating from my hand at his waistband, and scanning our
surroundings. The Warplight illuminates the water around us, like a
searchlight, the calling of the breach marking our path to the rip
in reality.

I can
just make out the huge forms of Sea Serpents undulating in the
murky distance. They don’t seem to have noticed us yet but my hands
are streaming Warplight, guiding us to the rift that has allowed
these beasts entry from their home world, and I don’t know how long
we’ll be able to keep our presence a secret. I want to speak, to
fill the oppressive silence the weight of the water has caused, but
my mouth is dry and sticky with fear. A condom is drifting next to
us, resembling a translucent jellyfish. Gross.

Well, this is certainly an adventure. Join the Protectorate,
they said. See the world, they said. Drown at the bottom of the
disgusting Thames, they didn’t say. At least needles don’t float. I
wonder if mystical healing works on hepatitis.

“
There!” Ruble hisses, his dreadlocks brushing my cheek as he
turns, spinning the board around with his feet. It spirals so
rapidly I lose my balance, just a bit. My right elbow hits the
bubble and ... passes straight through, resistance no more than the
surface of the water itself. It feels like I’ve submerged it into a
cold bath.

Gasping, I jerk back. My wet elbow drips water onto my feet,
the liquid pooling on the solid board below and sloshing around my
boots. It doesn’t run over the sides, though; the barrier seems to
stop water in both directions, but let it in if it’s attached to
me?
Magic.

I take a
huge breath, suddenly nauseous, and tilt my head back in the hopes
it will stop the heaving of my guts. Maybe six feet above us, the
surface is an extremely faint source of illumination. Terror
presses in on me, and I wrap my other arm round Ruble’s waist,
hiding my face in his leather-clad back. He smells like cinnamon
and fresh sweat. I inhale deeply.

“
Just gimme a second.” My voice is muffled against his jacket,
hands knotted together in the fabric of his shirt. My right hand
presses against the warm skin of his belly, and it’s this that
settles me. So human, yet so strong.

Anywhere but here, hey? Why the hell did I sign up for this?
Oh right, I didn’t. Military school isn’t sounding so bad right
now.

I manage
to lift my face out of his spine, but it’s extremely
difficult.

Then
we’re gliding toward the breach that lit my hands. The glowing is
turned up as high as it goes, now, whitish blue misting out from my
wrists, writhing over my palms, and trailing from my fingertips. It
seems as though it should be filling the bubble, like dry ice, but
it’s pulled outward instead. Ahead of us, the rift pulses, hanging
dead in the water, the other side looking almost identical to this,
the mundane water of the Thames.

But
monsters are coming through this doorway, and it’s my job to close
it. Like, now. I sniff, glaring at it. Its black rim sucks the
light in, devouring the illumination. The double layer of
magic—white inside, around the other dimension, and black framing
it—gives me the usual heebie jeebies. There’s something wrong with
the way it looks, like always. Unnatural. I think it’s to do with
the slight movement of everything surrounding and inside it—the
water in this case—compared to the absolute stillness of the
opening itself.