Part 24 (2/2)

I held my breath as the skin parted reluctantly, but she was still as death. If it weren't for the faint pulse beneath my knees and the fluttering of her gills about three feet in front of me, I might have thought she was already dead.

The first knife made it through the tough skin before it lost its edge. I didn't notice at first, wasting precious time dragging the dull rock against her unyielding flesh. By the fourth knife, my cut was nearly a foot deep and twice that wide. I braced it open by tucking my knee in the fissure while watery pink blood filled the bottom. I had to stop and empty it out a couple of times so I could make sure that the knife was still cutting.

You have to get it wide enough to get to the heart, Coyote had told me, holding his hands about two feet apart. Coyote had told me, holding his hands about two feet apart. She doesn't have ribs-she's a fish. But she doesn't need them. Her flesh is made of magic as much as flesh. That's why the steel didn't work, that's why bullets won't work, that's why a grenade wouldn't work. I'm not sure a nuclear strike would work-but it would be interesting to try. Of course, after that no one could use water from that river for a hundred years or so . . . She doesn't have ribs-she's a fish. But she doesn't need them. Her flesh is made of magic as much as flesh. That's why the steel didn't work, that's why bullets won't work, that's why a grenade wouldn't work. I'm not sure a nuclear strike would work-but it would be interesting to try. Of course, after that no one could use water from that river for a hundred years or so . . .

The otters swam around, tugging at her tentacles and doing something with magic-I could feel it. Fae magic felt different to me from the magic that kept the river devil alive. They were trying to wake her up.

I kept looking out on the beach, but Adam hadn't moved.

What are you doing, Mercedes? Her voice rang in my head, and I froze, certain that I'd failed, that she was awake. Her voice rang in my head, and I froze, certain that I'd failed, that she was awake.

You are not strong enough for the task you were given, she said. she said. You should have come to me this morning and let those children live. At least then your death would mean something. You should have come to me this morning and let those children live. At least then your death would mean something.

The tissue under my blade was surging with the beat of her heart, a sign, Coyote had told me, that I was close. I switched to a new blade-I had three left-and kept working.

My hands were cold and numb, and I'd slipped a couple of times. There was at least one cut that would need st.i.tches if I survived. The new blade broke. I tossed it at one of the otterkin and hit it in the head. It chittered at me, and I stuck my tongue out at it as I grabbed another knife.

Two left.

Not enough, Mercedes, she said. she said. Not good enough. Poor Coyote died in vain and took with him the last of the spirit warriors who walk our Mother Earth. You fail, but don't worry-you won't have to live with your failure. Not good enough. Poor Coyote died in vain and took with him the last of the spirit warriors who walk our Mother Earth. You fail, but don't worry-you won't have to live with your failure.

That blade dulled. And then there was only one. Had she moved underneath me?

I took it out and went to work. It would either be enough, or it wouldn't. The ankle that she'd grabbed me by throbbed in time with the beat of her heart. The hip attached to that ankle ached dully-I must have pulled a muscle in it. The cut under my arm burned every time I moved my hand.

And the tissue parted, exposing her heart.

It didn't look like any heart I had ever seen-it was black and veined with gray, and the magic of it was so strong it stung the tips of my fingers.

It's no use trying to stab her heart. Coyote had chewed for a while, then swallowed. Coyote had chewed for a while, then swallowed. It's too hard. You need to go for the connective tissue. It's too hard. You need to go for the connective tissue.

So I did. There were four webs of gristle that held the heart in place. Once I took care of that, the veins and arteries were soft enough I could pull them out with my bare hand, or so Coyote had a.s.sured me.

I set my knife to the first of the webs-and right about that time, she woke up.

13.

SHE DIDN'T AWAKEN ALL AT ONCE-OR ELSE I'D HURT her badly enough that she couldn't react right away. The first thing she did was stretch. When she did, her pectoral fin fluttered and hit my hand, knocking the knife out of my hand. I watched it hit the water and disappear.

The otterkin all pulled back into a semicircle about fifteen feet from her. Under me she writhed, and the back half of her body disappeared underwater. I was going to have to jump and get swimming if I wanted a chance to live through this.

Yes, Mercedes, you should run now, she said. she said. I like to chase my prey. I like to chase my prey.

Instead, I grabbed the edges of her skin and dug my fingers in so she couldn't knock me off. Coyote died to give me this chance, and I had failed him. MacKenzie, who would never grow older than eight years and four days old, had died to give me this chance, and I had failed her and her family. Faith Jamison had come to me, and I had failed her, too.

I had failed them all. But they were dead; they wouldn't care. Adam would care.

I wasn't going to go down without a fight. Not with Adam waiting for me.

A single tentacle snapped back and hit my s.h.i.+nbone with a crack, and the pain didn't touch me. I flattened my hand just as I would have to break a board and hit her heart. My form sucked because I was trying to stay put on a slippery fish who wasn't cooperating, and I might as well have hit her with one of Thunderbird's feathers. I reached in and pulled on her heart with my fingers and got nothing except for a mild zap of magic that felt like I'd grabbed onto an electric fence.

I needed a weapon, something that could penetrate the river devil's magic, and all I had was my bare hands.

Her struggle to wake up pulled me underwater, making it obvious, if I needed to be reminded, that if I changed to a coyote to gain teeth, I'd never manage to stay on her long enough to do anything. I wasn't even sure I could could change to a coyote-Coyote was dead. I had change to a coyote-Coyote was dead. I had nothing nothing.

I was up and out of the water again when a stray thought brushed across my awareness.

Lugh never made anything that couldn't be used as a weapon, the oakman had said. the oakman had said.

Maybe I did have a weapon.

Jump, the river devil urged. the river devil urged. Run. Swim for sh.o.r.e. I might even let you make it all the way if you swim fast enough. Or maybe I'll decide that living with your failure would be punishment more fitting what you have attempted here. Run. Swim for sh.o.r.e. I might even let you make it all the way if you swim fast enough. Or maybe I'll decide that living with your failure would be punishment more fitting what you have attempted here.

I opened my hand, and said, ”Come on. Now. I need you.” Then I reached behind my hip and grabbed the silver-and-oak walking stick.

The river devil writhed, and the section I was on lifted well up out of the water. I used the force of her movement to aid mine as I stabbed down with the end of the staff. As I plunged it down to the heart, I saw the silver-shod end re-form into a spearhead. The spear slid six inches into her heart and stopped as if it had hit something solid. As we began to drop back to the water, the river devil twisted, rolling upright.

All the metal in the staff flared white-hot. My feet slipped off the slick side of the river devil, and instinct had me grab the shaft with all I was worth, even as the heat seared my hands. I doubt I could have held on for another second, but a second was all it took.

The staff started to s.h.i.+ft relative to the monster, and I thought my weight was pulling it out, but a frantic look showed me something else, just before water closed over my head.

The staff had sucked the heat from her flesh, turned her black heart to white ice. The weight of my body had given more torque to the staff; the heart cracked and pulled loose from the river devil's body.

Somehow, I ended up under the river devil, and she carried me to the bottom, which was not too deep. I wiggled and pulled to get out from under her-it would be too ironic to end up dead after all of this, dead in less than six feet of water.

I lost track of the walking stick, but that was all right: it would be back. Once I was free, it took me almost too long to decide which way was up. I finally went limp and a.s.sumed that up was the direction I floated. I surfaced eventually. Had we been any deeper, I might not have.

There were chunks of ice melting in the water. They reeked of magic and blood and I avoided touching them as I swam very slowly back to sh.o.r.e. When the water was too shallow to swim, I crawled. Getting to my feet was just way too much work.

I struggled out of the water and found a last spurt of strength to get to where Adam lay. With a hand buried in his thick fur, I had enough courage to roll over to look at the river devil. She was floating still, her body moving with the motion of the water. The wound I'd made was still there; it wasn't healing.

”Adam,” I said to his unconscious body. ”Adam, we did it.”

I put my forehead down on his side and let myself believe.

”I should let you live,” a man's voice snarled, unconsciously echoing the river devil's words-or maybe he'd heard her, too.

I looked up to see a man standing between me and the river. His features were all wrong, like a bad drawing. Almost human, but not quite. He wore a dry pair of jeans and a WSU sweats.h.i.+rt, but his feet were bare. He had a ragged beard that was a slightly darker color than his hair. Though there had been all sorts of emotion in his voice, there was none on his face. It was peculiarly blank, like a particularly strong form of autism: a trait, I decided, with two examples to draw from, that must be common to all otterkin.

”What?” I asked him stupidly because his words didn't quite make sense.

”You blooded one of Lugh's creations in the heart of a creature even older and more magical than the walking stick is,” he said. ”I should just let you live with what you have made. But you must pay the price for killing our creature, she whom we awakened at great cost from her deep sleep.”

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