He froze, pole in his hand. The boat glided slowly, using up the last of its speed.
Ripples pulsed under the willow, wrinkled the river, and vanished.
Cerise crouched at the bow, watching the water like a hawk.
A huge blunt head sliced through the river an inch from the surface, followed by a sinuous serpentine body. William held his breath. It kept coming and coming, impossibly long, moving in total silence, so enormous it seemed unreal. A low fin sliced through the water, sun glinted on the brown hide speckled with yellow flecks, and the creature vanished.
At least fifteen feet. Maybe more.
“A mud eel,” Cerise whispered.
William nodded toward the pole. She shook her head.
The boat drifted downstream, heading for the right bank. The bottom scraped mud. They stopped. He raised the pole to push off.
The eel smashed into the side of the boat with a thud. The craft went flying. William leaped onto the bank. His feet touched the mud, it gave, suddenly liquid, and he sank to his hips.
The eel’s blunt head reared from the water and hissed, its black maw flashing a forest of sharp needle teeth. The creature lunged onto dry land, clawing at the mud with short stubby paws. The damn thing had legs. Fucked-up place, fucked-up fish.
William spun the pole and rammed it into the nightmarish mouth. Jaws locked on the wood, ripping it out of his hands. Round fish eyes fixed on him, expressionless and stupid.
He pulled a knife from his jacket.
The eel reared back. A bright red mark glowed on its forehead, a crimson skull with two gaping black circles for eyes.
William snarled.
The fish lunged.
Steel flashed, biting deep into the eel’s left orbit, and withdrew. The milky gel of the fish eye slid free, its golden iris glistening like a small coin on wet cotton.
The eel jerked. Its huge body whipped around. The fish plunged into the river and sped away.
The hobo girl sighed and wiped the blade on her sleeve. “A single sinkhole on this bank for fifty feet in any direction and you managed to jump right into it. That takes real talent. Are you trying to make my job harder, Lord Bill?”
“The name’s William. You stole my kill.” He put his hands against the mud, trying to lift himself free, but it just crumbled under him. She could slit his throat from ear to ear, and there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“Sure I did. You were just about to rip that big bad fish to tiny pieces.” Cerise grabbed a willow with her left hand and leaned toward him. He gripped her fingers. She grunted and pulled him free.
Strong for a woman. And quick, too. That was one of the fastest strikes he’d ever seen.
Cerise was looking at him. “You look adorable.”
Black slimy mud stained his pants, filling the air with the scent of old rot. Great. And he didn’t even get to kill the fish.
“It’s peat,” she said. “It will wash right off. The eel won’t be back for a few minutes, so if you want to clean up, now is your chance.”
William pulled off his boots, emptying half a gallon of sludge onto the bank, and waded into the stream. The oily peat rolled off him in a slick wave, leaving no stains.
That was a hell of a sword thrust, fast, precise. Professional. The Mirror had no female agents in the Mire. Maybe she was Hand, one of Spider’s crew. William ran through Spider’s known flunkies in his mind, mentally comparing her to the women. No match. Either the Mirror had no information about her or they had neglected to share it.
William had a distinct urge to turn around, grab her, dunk her under the water, and wash all that dirt off her face, so he could see what she looked like.
He was a blueblood. He had to keep his cover.
William climbed out. The hobo queen greeted him with a huge smile. “So how are you enjoying your tour of the swamp so far?”
Smart-ass. He pulled on his boots. “Branded fish with legs weren’t in the guidebook. I want a refund.”
She blinked. “What do you mean, branded?”
“It had a skull etched between the eyes.”
“Did it glow red?”
“Yes.”
Her face dropped. She tilted her head to the sky. “That was rotten of you. I didn’t deserve that. I have more than enough to deal with, so how about you stop throwing rocks at my windows? If you don’t like the way I’m handling things, come down and try fixing this mess yourself.”
“Who are you taking to?”
“My grandparents.”
“In the sky?”
She faced him, her dark eyes full of indignation. “They’re dead. Where else would they be?”
William shrugged. Maybe it was one of the odd human things changelings didn’t understand. Or maybe she was just crazy. All Edgers were mad. He’d known that from the start. He was letting a crazy woman lead him deeper into the swamp. How could this not turn out well?
Gods, he missed his trailer. And his coffee. And dry socks.
Cerise strode to the overturned boat.
“What does the skull mean?”
“Never mind.”
He picked up the pole and stepped in front of her. “What does the skull mean?”
She flipped the boat over. “It’s Sect.”
He followed her. “And that means what?”
“The eel belongs to the Gospo Adir Sect. They’re necromancers. They alter eels and other things with magic and use them as watch dogs. The eels are vindictive as hell by nature, but this one is enhanced, which means it’s smart and it’s trained to hunt down trespassers. The damn thing will follow us around until we have to kill it, and if we do kill it, the Sect will want me to pay restitution for it.”
Cerise pushed the boat from the shore and threw their bags into it.
“So let me get it straight—the fish attacks us, but you have to compensate this Sect for it?”
Cerise heaved a sigh. “Look before you jump, Lord Bill. It’s a good rule. Learn it.”
She clenched her teeth. “I hate dealing with the Sect. They aren’t reasonable. We’ll end up killing the stupid creature, and then Emel will eat a hole in my head over it.”
“Who’s Emel?”
“My cousin. The Red Necromancer. That’s why I will have to pay restitution. The eel knows me by scent. It wouldn’t have attacked me if I were on my own, so if you weren’t with me, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
He would strangle her before this trip was over. “Should I just let the fish eat me next time?”
“It would certainly make things easier.”
William scraped the last of his patience together and tried to pretend to be Declan. “I’ll pay you for the fish.”
“Yes, yes, and that flock of pigs crossing the sky looks particularly lovely this time of day.”
He lost it and snarled. “I said I’ll pay for the damn fish if we have to kill it!”
She waved her hands in the air. “Do me a huge favor, Lord William. Keep your thoughts to yourself for the next few miles. If you keep talking, I’ll have to hit you with this pole, and nobody wants that.”
THE stream turned, spilling back into the river. Cerise leaned onto the pole, and the boat slipped into the wider water.
