“He will,” she grates out, as if saying it makes it true. “Once you’re out of the way.”
Good Gods. Considering the powerful and horrible people that have tried to kill me, it would be enormously disappointing if Daphne were the one to manage it.
I open my mouth, but my Dragon’s Breath fails me. I’m still too drained from last night. It doesn’t matter. I have other ways to kill.
“I was doing my best to tolerate you,” I growl, “but now I’m mad.” I tear the knife from my stomach and send it back. My feet don’t touch the bottom of the pool to steady me, and pain rips my insides as I throw. The knife is heavier than any of mine, but I’m used to working with different blades, and I’ve had plenty of practice adapting on the fly. I don’t go for some ridiculous, slow-death stomach wound. I aim straight for the eye and hit it. Daphne goes over backward, her head cracking against the marble floor.
The satisfaction I ought to feel is absent. I feel…bleak. And light-headed. Panting, I struggle toward the shallow end of the pool. I shouldn’t stay in the water, but it dilutes the blood.
A chill seeps into me, and I start shivering. My heart is heavy, my skin cold. It’s getting harder to breathe. I didn’t want to be right about dying young, and I never thought it would happen like this. The pool is turning pink with my blood, and that’s all I can see.
That, and Griffin’s face when he finds me.
Just hours ago, I was sure I’d never use compulsion on a person, but I start calling for Griffin in my head. I don’t know what else to do, and summoning help isn’t exactly altering minds. But it’s always been those small, seemingly innocuous steps that terrified me, along with Mother’s voice in my head.
He doesn’t come. Maybe he’s too far away. Maybe I’m too weak. More likely he’s immune to compulsion, or maybe I’m just no good at it. The glacial shard around my neck starts turning the water around it to ice. It feels me fading and is working for me.
I’m not ready to give up yet. I never give up. Shadows creep into the edges of my vision, but I push Griffin from my mind and concentrate on sunny blond hair and cobalt eyes.
Kato! Kato! I need you!
I shout for him and picture myself in the bathhouse until everything goes distant and numb. No large, sturdy, dependable man bursts through the doors like I think he will, and I realize I’ve been incredibly stupid. I should have gotten out of the water while I still had the strength to find help.
Slowly, too slowly, I move toward the stairs, water still up to my breasts and my hand gripping the edge of the pool. Blood pounds in my ears, and the steps never seem to get any closer. My legs give out, my hand slides off the edge, and my head slips underwater. Silence engulfs me. I’m going to drown. How utterly ironic.
In this soundless place, my eyes close, and I stop breathing until my body chooses for me. The first liquid lungful burns my chest, choking me. The second rushes in, filling me up. My neck suddenly stings, like someone’s taken a blade and slashed the skin below my ears. The last bubbles of air leave my lungs just as strong hands grip my upper arms and drag me out of the water.
Someone lays me flat on the marble floor. “Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.”
Kato’s voice shatters the darkness enfolding me.
“Breathe!” he bellows, slamming his hands down on either side of my head.
My chest convulses, and water spews from my throat, gagging me. I choke and cough and breathe, tearing at my wound. The stinging pain in my neck disappears as quickly as it came.
“Get Griffin!” Kato shouts.
Someone sprints out of the bathhouse, the heavy gait ringing like Flynn’s.
“The blood…” I mumble, my lips numb.
“To the Underworld with the blood!” Kato presses his hand to my stomach. I gasp, my body jerking in response.
A few minutes must pass. It feels like seconds. Maybe I black out. Griffin’s voice reaches me next, rough with panic. “Cat! My Gods, Cat!”
Griffin never panics. He’s always infuriatingly calm. I raise my hand, groping for him, and he catches my fingers, squeezing them so hard it hurts.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, forcing my eyes to open. When he comes into focus, I wish I hadn’t tried so hard to see. The look on his face terrifies me. I see my death in his harrowed gaze, in the stark lines and stricken planes.
“Don’t die,” he orders gruffly. “Don’t you dare die.”
Tears spill from my eyes and slide hotly down the sides of my face.