Michael: The Mark (Airel Saga Book Four)

Chapter IV

THE PLUNGE INTO THE ocean again was rude, shocking, dispiriting. Almost depressing. Why? Because now I was alone again. That meant I couldn't fool myself into taking less responsibility for what happened by blaming other people's actions for the bad stuff. It was all on me.

Plus, I was cast out into the unknown, into the dark ocean where unseen. sinister things glided along within its blackness, ready to attack me. I didn't feel like a superhero, a half-breed, an Immortal. I felt like fish food.

I hadn't really thought about the distance between the island and the mainland before I jumped. It was one thing to swim laps in a pool. That body of water was, though liquid, still static in a way. In the ocean, there were huge waves that swept over the top of me, there were currents that took me where they wanted to go, and that was not where I was trying to get. Whenever I looked up to figure out where I was, it looked like I was headed in the wrong direction.

And there were the seals, whose territory I had invaded both on land and now at sea, not to mention the sharks that patrolled here. And the darkness. Since I couldn't see anything, I didn't know where any potential threats might be. That, I knew—if I allowed myself to think about it—would kill me for sure.

But there was another thing: my clothes. They were holding me back, pulling me down. Ellie had been right. I needed every advantage I could get. I needed to take on the slippery shape of the fish, at least as much as possible, if I was going to survive this. I wasn't just sidestroking with a life ring anymore. I wasn't in survival mode. I was swimming for as much speed and distance as I could muster. The longer I swam with my heavy, restrictive jeans on, the more it became clear to me that it was either going to be me or them. So I ditched them.

That seemed to improve things, but then it became obvious that my shirt was dragging me down. Ellie had been right. You have got to be kidding me. I am not going to be seen in public in my underwear. I could just see the news broadcast featuring me scrambling awkwardly out of the water into a boat, or being hoisted up to a helicopter in my skivvies. Or my "knickers," as Ellie would have said. But it was clear—the shirt had to go.

As I ditched that too, I made a mental note to draw the line there. I wasn't going to be swimming in the buff, no way. If I died, I would die at least partially clothed. A girl had her dignity, however much of it. And as I swam on, I was glad that, if I was going to be parading around in my underwear, at least I wasn't wearing granny panties.

***

I HAD TO REST occasionally and just let the sea take me, trying hard not to think about sea monsters coming to get me.

I slipped onto my back and stretched out as much as possible, allowing the ocean to carry me along. One thing's for sure—I am not a fish. I looked up at the dark sky and tried to think positively. I tried to think of how Michael would be better, how Ellie and he and I would all be reunited in happy embrace, how I would somehow find the mainland and a towel or a blanket and get help for us.

But it had all gone horribly wrong. At every step of the way, we had been met with unreal opposition. Whatever could go wrong, did. We barely had time to breathe before the bottom fell out again and we sank.

I had to get ahold of myself. I was so hungry and thirsty. It felt weird to be surrounded by water and not be able to drink. By now my body was beginning to consume itself, and that wasn't good because there wasn't much there to begin with. And this was a mission I had undertaken with no option for failure or incompleteness. Both of those would be permanent if they occurred. So I kept on swimming and floating, floating and swimming, trying to make some kind of progress.

By degrees, I would occasionally look up and see that I had moved across the bay and had indeed made progress. The mountains that ringed me in were growing larger on one side. Unfortunately, due to currents and waves and wind, it looked like I was taking the long way. The shore that had looked so tantalizingly close at times was sliding by alongside me. I wasn't going to get to land that way. But it did appear I would do so eventually, given my path up to now. The only problem was, if I gauged the distance right, I was only halfway there.

Oh, this is so much fun. I should write home and tell them all about—I couldn't go there. No way. I could not allow myself to think about home. But it all came crashing down on me anyway yet again. I missed my parents incredibly—especially my dad, for some reason. I missed Kreios. I wished all the crap that had happened to us would just go away forever and leave us in peace. It rained down on me, isolated and alone and drifting in the void.

***

ONE HUNDRED FRESH NRI demons, sent out on supplemental orders by the lieutenant, circled the skies over False Bay. They were looking for prey, looking for—if it came to that—remains. The master hadn't specified.

They had started at the island, though, which he had specified. They had scattered seals and seagulls to the water, scooping some of the seals up and ripping them apart in midair for sport. But there were no humans on the island.

Reportedly there had been three of them, at least according to what little had been communicated through the ranks. But if there were indeed three, there were no longer any. They were either gone or dead.

The master would not be pleased with that report.

As a result, the detachment flew sorties all over the bay, throwing caution to the wind, ignoring normal protocol and rules of engagement, even allowing themselves to be seen and heard, observed by some citizens, fishermen returning home in the dark.

But it was clear to the lieutenant from the moment they had discovered the island was unoccupied: the three had slipped the net.