Penn reached the surface first, and Gemma heard her cursing through the water. When Gemma came up a few feet away, Penn was tilting her neck to the side, cracking it. She was surprised to see that Penn looked almost human now, other than the sharp teeth protruding from her mouth.
The scratches on her face had mostly healed, and other than a dark line across her eye, there wasn’t much left of the injury. That’s why Penn had shifted back to human—the transformation sped up the healing process.
Gemma had her own healing to contend with, and she allowed her face to slowly shift back. But, like Penn, she kept her fangs out.
“So you really wanna go for it, Gemma?” Penn asked, and her usual wicked smile returned. “I thought I’d let you get a few slaps out, burn off a little steam, but you really wanna do this?”
“I want this over with,” Gemma said, and she was surprised at the inhuman growl in her voice. The monster was out, but she was still in control.
“You really wanna die today?”
“I won’t be the one dying,” Gemma said, and she dove at Penn and punched her right in the mouth.
With blood dripping from her lip, Penn snarled and reached out, grabbing a clump of Gemma’s hair. She knotted her fist right at the base, with her claws scraping the skin, so if Gemma were to pull free, Penn would rip her scalp off her head.
She whipped Gemma around, so her back was pressed to Penn’s chest, and as Gemma trod water, she felt her tail brushing up against Penn’s. Penn yanked her head backward, and she pressed a talon into Gemma’s jugular.
Gemma grabbed Penn’s arm and tried to pull free, but it was like trying to move concrete. When they had been fighting earlier, Penn had to have been holding back, but right now, it had never been more clear how much stronger Penn was than her.
“You stupid, weak girl,” Penn sneered, as Gemma took shallow breaths, trying not to press the talon any deeper into her skin. “You never eat. You never change form. You’re starving and useless. Did you really think you stood a chance against a powerful, well-fed siren like me?”
“I thought it’d be worth a shot,” Gemma admitted.
“Did you know that this is exactly how I tore off Ligea’s head?” Penn asked. “I gripped her hair just like this”—she tugged on Gemma’s hair to show her—“and her head just popped right off. And I can do the same to you right now. So I’ll ask you again—do you really want to die today?”
Even though, a few minutes before, Gemma had thought she didn’t care if she lived or died, with her death feeling increasingly imminent and her heart pounding desperately to live, she knew she had to do something.
Instead of pulling against Penn, she decided to give in to her. She stopped moving her tail, going limp in Penn’s arms, and leaned back against her. Confused, Penn started to go under before pushing herself upward.
With her hand still buried in Gemma’s hair, she tried to pull Gemma up with her. But Gemma slipped beneath, so Penn’s talon sliced sharply across her neck and chest as she jerked away.
Gemma twisted around, yanking Penn’s arm into an unnatural position. Clumps of her hair and scalp were tearing way, but she’d finally put enough distance between Penn and herself that she could turn and bite Penn’s forearm, sinking her razor teeth in the sensitive part just above the wrist, tearing through the tendons and cracking into bone.
Penn howled and finally released her, and Gemma took off, swimming as fast as she could toward the shore. She didn’t really have a plan for when she got there. She just knew she had to get away from Penn if she wanted to live to see another day.
She could feel Penn chasing after, but she didn’t look back. She pushed herself onward, letting her arms change back into their human form. The smaller hands worked better to paddle, to help her swim faster, than the long, sticklike fingers.
The water was getting shallower. She could see the first rays of light breaking the surface and shining bright blue to the bottom. The beach wasn’t far off.
And then she felt Penn’s teeth tearing through the flipper of her tail. She glanced back long enough to see that Penn had torn it right off, and a thick stream of blood poured out from the gaping wound where her flippers should be.
Gemma pushed, though much more slowly without the tail; and then she was so close, it was barely deep enough to swim anyway. The rocks at the bottom scraped against her belly, and she pulled herself forward.
As she came out of the water, she was actually crawling up, pulling herself onto land with hands and elbows digging into the sand. Realizing how slowly she was going, she knew she couldn’t outrun Penn, and she was wasting her strength.
Gemma rolled over onto her back, the cold sand sticking to her, and tried to catch her breath. Then Penn’s head appeared over her, the sunrise backlighting her face so it was impossible to read her expression, even when Gemma squinted at her.