The Witch's Thirst. Deborah LeBlanc
method Evee had proposed.
When they finally left the catacombs, Ronan immediately headed for the French Quarter and Lucien started walking west, down the riverwalk. He watched Evee take off for the east bank of the river, watched her long, lean body stride with confidence, her shoulder-length black hair blown back by the wind. He remembered how her copper-colored eyes glinted with determination as they’d discussed their search-and-rescue plan. Lucien worried about her, more so now than ever.
Although the Triad looked similar, they weren’t identical. Their eyes told different stories, as did their personalities. Evee always seemed to be the peacemaker, the one to handle things more logically than her sisters. She was also more apt to follow than lead. At this point, Lucien feared Evee had reached the point of desperation. That was why she had suggested they split up to search for her Nosferatu. He still felt like it was a big mistake.
As Lucien watched Evee’s body fade off into the distance, his pace slowed. He continued heading west but kept looking back for her every few seconds. She continued heading east, and when he could barely make out her silhouette, Lucien suddenly felt like he was trudging through knee-deep mud.
He wasn’t as worried about Ronan. His cousin was sharp and knew how to fight no matter what he faced. Ronan could easily take care of himself. But if a Cartesian attacked Evee, she’d be helpless. All the bravado she’d displayed in their conversation in the catacombs was one thing, but Lucien feared that dealing with a Cartesian, especially the unreliability of a Cartesian, would be far beyond her powers.
As crucial as it was to find the missing Nosferatu before any humans were attacked, he felt it was a greater priority to keep the Cartesians away from the Originals and especially the Triad he was responsible for. He would never be able to live with himself if something happened to Evee.
Lucien trudged another block west before suddenly doing an about-face and beginning to head east, in Evee’s direction.
Something about the woman drew him, called to him. Lucien couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he just knew that he had to take care of her above all else.
He picked up his pace, almost to a run, wanting to at least catch sight of Evee as soon as possible. He heard the calliope of a steamboat in the distance as it chugged along the river. He smelled burgers and fries, pizza and pralines, all of which made his stomach rumble. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
The farther he headed east, the more the crowds began to dissipate, and the cacophony of music, talking and laughter muted to a distant hum.
It felt like he’d walked five miles before he finally spotted Evee walking along the river’s edge, just as she had been before. He noticed her gaze shifting from left to right, then up, obviously trying to sense her Nosferatu and watching for Cartesians at the same time.
Suddenly Evee came to an abrupt stop, and even from where Lucien stood he saw a quizzical look cross her face. She looked up again, turned her head to one side, and Lucien saw her mouth drop open. He followed her gaze and saw it—a widening rift in the sky right above her. A Cartesian was hanging out from it at the waist.
“Run!” Lucien shouted to Evee, then yanked his scabior out of its sheath.
The Cartesian, evidently hearing Lucien’s yell, threw Lucien a piercing, evil look, narrowing its monstrous eyes.
Obviously determined to complete the task before it, the Cartesian turned away from Lucien, stuck one of its long, furry arms tipped with four-inch razor-sharp talons out of the rift, then lifted its arm up and out, aiming for Evee.
It wasn’t hard to determine that Evee had seen the same, for she let out a heart-stopping scream, then took off running—right into the river.
Lucien charged his scabior and shot a bolt of lightning at the Cartesian, hitting it square in the head. It shrieked and flew backward into the rift, and Lucien heard a distinct pop that indicated he’d shoved the monstrosity into the next dimension. The rift remained open, however, and Lucien kept his scabior aimed there, pushing the Cartesian farther and farther back.
By the time Lucien was able to sound off two more pops, a more crucial sound reached his ear. Evee screaming for help.
Like a wild man, Lucien spun about on his heels, tracking the sound of her voice. Evee was still in the river, her head bobbing up and then going under the murky water. Each time her head poked out of the water, less and less of it appeared. She flailed her arms frantically, coughed and sputtered whenever her mouth broke the surface of the water.
Lucien was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. It was obvious Evee needed to be pulled out of the river, but the rift overhead was still open. If he ignored it and went after Evee, another Cartesian could easily make its way through the rift and take her.
Praying Evee could at least dog-paddle, Lucien put all his energy into the open rift and held on to his scabior with two hands. Although only seconds passed before he heard yet another explosive sound, which meant the Cartesian had been pushed into another dimension and the rift was finally closed, it felt like hours.
For the entire time he fought the Cartesian, all Lucien heard was Evee sputtering and screaming, “H-help! I c-can’t swim!”
Evee knew she was about to die. Panic-stricken, she paddled with hands and feet as hard as she could to stay afloat in the water, but it was only enough to get her nose and mouth to break surface—every once in a while. Each time she got sucked down below the surface, her mouth and nose filled with muddy silt from the river. Bad enough she couldn’t breathe, it made her want to throw up. The few seconds she broke the surface of the water she spent coughing, gagging, trying to cøapture as much oxygen as she could before slipping helplessly downward.
She tried moving her arms like she’d seen swimmers do, out and down, kicking furiously, desperate to move up and forward. But her body refused to stay horizontal. It felt weighted with stones and determined to pull her feetfirst down into the depths of the Mississippi.
Evee didn’t know what scared her more: the realization that she was about to drown or having seen the Cartesian take aim for her. Either way, she didn’t plan to go quietly into any dark night. All she knew to do was to keep fighting, struggling, hoping.
For the life of her, Evee had no idea why she’d run into the river instead of in the opposite direction toward land and buildings. Surely she would have found a safe, dry place to hide. But something seemed to overtake her logical brain as soon as she saw the Cartesian’s arm cock and aim. Her brain immediately screamed, RUN! And in that horrifying moment, the only direction that made sense to her was away.
Even as she bobbed up and then underwater, fighting for air, for her life, she still saw the gruesome face of the Cartesian in her mind’s eye. Monstrously huge head covered with scraggly fur. Long, pointed ears that flapped over at the tips. A flat nose with no bridge, and nostrils that looked canyon-size. Eyes solid black, without pupils, and the size of saucers. And its teeth, the most horrible of all—each tooth a thick pointed incisor, a mouth equipped to shred and masticate anything it got hold of. She shuddered, thinking about it.
Trying to keep her wits about her and forcing herself to think of the water, the enemy trying to destroy her now, Evee kicked harder, moved her arms and hands overhead, then down one at a time, hoping for progress. She heard herself crying out for help, but the voice sounded like it came from far away and from someone else. She didn’t know which was worse: drowning or being chewed to death by a Cartesian. Both carried the same weight of fear in her heart.
Exhaustion sat atop her like concrete blocks, forcing her lower into the water. She barely had the energy to care anymore.
As she sank lower into the dark water, Evee suddenly felt an arm wrap around her waist. Freaked, she twisted and turned, trying to get away. Opened her mouth to scream, only to have it fill with silt. She only had a few seconds of breath left in her lungs, and she used it to struggle all the more.