Page 89 of Crashing Tides

I don’t dare move. Jordan said I was going to die. But I’m not dead. Does this mean I have the jump on them?

For the first time, I really look at myself. It’s dark in here, but that doesn’t matter. My vision is much improved. I’m careful to remain motionless, just in case Jordan doesn’t realize I’m still alive.

Fins flutter gently in the current. I can’t stop staring at them.

Like Duncan said, they’re turquoise. Long and elegant, shot through with stripes of blue and yellow. The scales along my tail are delicate, sharp, gleaming.

I stare and stare. Am I horrifying? Am I a monster?

How is it that this is the most comfortable I’ve ever been in my own skin, in a body I don’t understand? Is this how Duncan feels on the full moon?

I’m in so much pain. There’s blood in the water—I can smell it. Submerged as I am, I shouldn’t be able to smell anything, but then again, sharks can smell blood, right?

It would be way cooler if I was a shark.

I drift. I think I’m probably dying. If I’m not, I want Jordan and his stupid crony to think I am. Maybe they’ll leave and I can figure out how to get out of here.

And then I’m going to hunt them down and kill them. Preferably slowly.

My fragile serenity shatters when a hand plunges into the water. I startle, try to swim away, but I’m not fast enough and even though it’s just a hand, even though this is my domain and I should have all the power here, I don’t escape. Something hooks into my neck, right into my gills. It’s sharp and it burns and I know if I try to swim away it’s going to rip my throat open. Besides, there’s nowhere to go. This pool is only a little bigger than a coffin. I’m yanked up to the surface and plucked from the water screeching and flailing. It’s all so much worse because Jordan and his crony are crowding around me, saying, “Dude, calm down,” and, “It won’t hurt if you relax,” and one of them is making shushing noises that are probably supposed to be soothing, and I will not be condescended to like this, not when one of them is clutching a hunting knife and the other one is holding the hook currently stuck in my gill.

“Fuck you!” I spit, and my voice is weird, all echoey and low. Is it because of my new body, or because I was nearly strangled to death a few minutes ago?

My captors aren’t accounting for the talons, for the strength of this form. I slash Jordan across the face. Blood fills his eye. The torn lid flaps as he screams and brings his hands to his face.

“I told you we should have drugged him,” the smaller man cries. His eyes are wide behind his mask.

Somewhere far away, I hear faint footsteps. Panic seizes my chest.

This can’t be good. There shouldn’t be anyone else here. I don’t know what the fuck kind of magic lurks in these halls and I don’t want to. If my parents sealed this place away, then they probably had a good reason, and I don’t want to meet it. I want to be a fucking student. I want to learn about the fae world. I want to fall in love and live my life. I don’t want to deal with the shit my parents couldn’t bother preparing me for.

I’ve had enough. Nobody is going to kill me today. I will burn this entire place to the fucking ground before I let that happen.

I give into my instincts. My legs feel wrong because they’re actually a tail now, and I whip that fucking thing, fins and all, in the direction of the short man. I manage to throw the knife from his hand, then knock his legs out from under him with enough force that a scream rips from his mouth.

I realize then that I don’t actually want to kill anybody. What I want is to get the fuck out of here in one piece.

But that’s not going to be possible, I think, stomach sinking. As long as I’m alive, they’re going to try and remedy that. And I can’t run in this body. Can’t transform easily.

I rake my claws across the shorter one’s face, mostly on accident. I was aiming for his torso (make him bleed, my instincts scream, so I do), but he falls onto his hands and looks right at me just as I slash, and⁠—

Well, at least he’s used to wearing a mask.

I’m not prepared for the sheer horror that runs through me as I stare at his wide eyes, at the exposed white bone beneath his flesh. I’ve carved ribbons into his face, and⁠—

Oh, fuck, I don’t want this.

Outside, the footsteps have grown thunderous. I can feel their vibrations through the floor.

“Leave me alone!” I scream.

Something warm and wet seeps around me. It’s blood, I realize. The shorter man is pouring blood and he’s screaming and clutching his face, and I hate this I never wanted to hurt anybody⁠—

And then Jordan leaps on top of me, hunting knife in hand. I screech and he bellows, and the knife misses me by a couple of inches. The hook is still in my neck. All he has to do is grab the handle, drive it a little deeper, and rip. I’ll have no chance. They’ll have everything they want.

He realizes this just as I do, and seizes the hook’s handle, narrowly dodging a swipe of my claws. I snatch at him again, aiming to rend flesh from bone.

The door flies open with a bang just as the knife plunges into my chest.