Touch of Evil - Cecy Robson Page 0,46
fight our way out.”
In the water.
In the deep.
Where I can’t swim.
I don’t blink. “All right,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
My head shoots up and Una appears.
Una isn’t exactly an octopus. She’s a nightmare. Given our current situation, I’d prefer an octopus. In fact, I’d prefer an entire octopus consortium wielding knives and machine guns.
Every other limb that stretches out before us holds the hand of a different witch. One is sickly yellow like the underbelly of Una’s suction covered skin, another is a grisly pink to match the color of her exterior. The two that remain are darker, one a deep olive, and the last like spoiled milk chocolate.
I don’t remember a hand touching me when she initially dragged me into the cell. It must have been one of her four tentacled limbs. They’re longer than that of a regular octopus, a combination of cephalopod and human parts.
“Aw, hell,” Bren mutters.
He’s watching her bounce along the ceiling, practically mesmerized. It’s understandable. Una is grotesquely beautiful, the manner in which she moves reminiscent of a bride lifting her gown to dance.
Except Una isn’t the blushing June bride. She’s evil and dangerous, her dexterity and unique style of locomotion adding to her lethality.
She pauses as if suddenly noticing us, stretching her limbs and adjusting her gangly frame to peer down at us.
“Oh,” I groan over Bren’s very audible, “fuck me.”
The faces of the witches who make up the creature that is Una merged into one. Four sets of eyes stacked into rows blink back at me from the top of her large forehead. She doesn’t have a nose, but she does have several chins crowning her lower jaw. She smiles with her large mouth, giving us a good view of the rows of dagger teeth stacked on top of one another.
“We should have hid,” Bren says. He cracks his knuckles as he takes another good look at Una. “Yup. Definitely should have ran away like bitches and hid from this shit.”
He starts to back away. He doesn’t quite reach me when a tentacle punctures through the bubble and slams Bren into the opposite wall, pinning him.
I jump into the water and splash toward him, shoving the first hand that reaches for me away with my force.
Uma’s limb feels heavy as well as strong. She’s also absurdly fast.
My hands shoot out as I slap the next limb away. The rejection angers Una, she clicks her fangs, her gestures and whale like sounds, pulsating through the air.
“Go, Emme,” Bren yells. “Yes!”
The dodging, the scooting, and the hammering I avoid must look pretty kick-ass from Bren’s perspective. He believes me agile and that I’m averting the mighty villain’s blows.
Good. Let him think that. Let her think that. Mostly, I’m retaliating blindly and stumbling through the water and unsteady floor.
The walls have crumbled into large sections of rock that poke out from the bottom in varying sizes. They slice at my skin and clothes. I use my senses, pushing my force out when I feel her approach and move as fast as my environment permits.
I’m almost to Bren when a suction covered limb adheres to my waist and cocoons my body.
The pruney hand at the tip tightens around my throat, releasing me briefly just to belt me across the cheek like an impudent child.
I wince from the pain. The slap is hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to cause serious damage.
I was ready for Una this time and used my force like a shield. Pale yellow light envelopes me as I put some space between her limbs and my body. It’s not enough to move. Just enough to safeguard my bones and organs and allow me to breathe.
Water cascades on me like a waterfall as Una lifts me away from Bren. To her, I’m nothing, just a broken doll to play with as she wishes.
Well, she has another thing coming.
Water sloshes through the bubbled ceiling as Una slithers her way in. The magic she used to create the shield holds enough to allow her through without completely dismantling its protection. But her grand entrance did fill the cell significantly more.
What remains of our exit is now fully submerged. It doesn’t matter. This isn’t the way we’re leaving. I glance at the ceiling.
The moonlight that poked through earlier seems further away. I hope Bren’s right. I hope he’s capable of swimming to the surface.
“What are you looking at, my dear?”
With her back to me, I think Una is talking to Bren, until she gives