Forgotten Sea

But after long . . . Hours? Days? . . . his concentration and 4 4

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his arms kept slipping. His head hurt. Every time a wave rol ed the mast, he went under. Every time, he had to fight harder to get on top again.

They would search for him, he was sure. She would come for him. He was almost certain.

But when he tried to picture the nameless They, their faces wavered like reflections in a pool, scattered, lost.

“Mind the step.”

The air around him changed again, became dank and stil as the refrigeration of a tomb. He smel ed dust and mold and old, growing things.

Al motion stopped.

“Are you sure . . .” A woman’s voice. Not hers.

A rush of disappointment swal owed what came next.

When he focused again, a man was speaking. “Old storm cellar . . .”

Their voices tumbled over each other, hard and meaningless as pebbles rattling at the water’s edge.

“No idea what he is . . . what he’s capable of.”

“— risk— ”

“Can’t keep him down here like some kind of lab rat.”

“— expose our children— ”

“More than a matter of academic interest . . . Matter of survival.”

His hips, his shoulders pressed something solid. A bed, hard and narrow as a ship’s bunk. A pil ow, flat and musty.

The voices cut off. He heard a scrape, a thump, before the silvery light behind his eyelids faded away.

He lay on his back under the earth, alone in the dark, in the silence. His head throbbed.

For the first time, it occurred to him he might die after al .

F o r g o t t e n s e a 45

*

*

*

She crouched alone in the filth, in the dark, her heart pounding so hard her body shook with it. He was coming back.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth so she wouldn’t whimper, so he wouldn’t hear and find her.

He was coming back with a present for her, he said. The thought made her curl herself tighter in her corner. “My little angel,” he cal ed her, which made her want to throw up. If only she’d be quiet, if only she’d be good, if only she were nice to him, he wouldn’t have to hurt her, he said.

She heard a scrape, a thump from the top of the stairs.

And woke gasping, her skin clammy with sweat.

Just a dream.

Lara lay dry-mouthed and wide-eyed, staring into the darkness, wil ing her stomach to settle and her heartbeat to return to normal. Throwing off the tangled covers, she staggered across the room and jerked open the window.

She drew a deep, slow breath. Held it, while the clean night air blew away the sticky remnants of her dream.

The quad was empty, the students in their beds. No one was up but Lara and the moon. Even the infirmary was dark.

Lara frowned. Miriam had said Justin needed rest. But whoever was with him ought to have a light. Did the sleep spel stil hold? Or was he lying awake, alone in the dark?

From experience, she knew better than to go straight back to sleep after a nightmare. Maybe she would just go check on him. No one had told her she couldn’t visit the infirmary.

Because it never occurred to them that she would try, her conscience pointed out.

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She ignored her conscience and reached for her clothes.

Minutes later, she was creeping down the staircase of the sleeping dormitory. A tread creaked under her bare feet.