She saw no sign of Atlas anywhere.
Loki struggled out of her shirt, then began to swim, his movements slow and uncoordinated, churning the water as if he was trying to run. He snapped playfully at the bubbles around him before catching sight of the men. He quickly figured out how to use his tail as a rudder and hurried over to join them.
Kincade scooped the pup up and quickly secured him in his shirt, despite the wiggling pup’s protest.
The distraction cost her.
A hand enclosed around her ankle, and she found herself being dragged into the depths of the lake, dropping a foot a second. She instinctively kicked and glanced down to see who the hell had grabbed a hold of her.
Only to see a fucking zombie dangling off the end of her boot, his weight dragging her lower!
Panic made her thrash and struggle to escape before her training finally took over. Instead of fighting the pull, she twisted and began swimming downward. The weight lifted off her foot, and she managed to unhook the claw-like hand.
The zombie was what remained of an elf. His long blond hair was patchy, chunks torn out of his ravaged scalp, the long strands tangled around him. His pale skin had scaled and flaked, turning a splotchy green as it floated around him in the water, scarcely clinging to his body in spots. The flesh was rotted, huge chunks torn free. The lips were gone, revealing a macabre smile.
When he reached for her again, Ascher swam toward her and grabbed the arm to wrench him around…only to come away with the arm dangling from his hand. The zombie leaned forward, his teeth chomping, disturbingly similar to one of those wind-up toys.
Ascher kicked the zombie, but the water weakened the blow, only sending the zombie-elf back a few feet. Swimming proved difficult with only one arm, though, and he sank slowly out of sight.
Unable to stop herself, Morgan followed the progress and saw what appeared to be hundreds of churning bodies writhing at the bottom of the lake. One soldier was being torn apart by the horde, the process disturbingly visible in the water as he was slowly dismantled and consumed until the water thickened with blood and the view became obscured. The blood only seemed to incite the zombies, and more and more of them piled on top.
The thrashing brought little bits of particles swirling up from the depths, tiny pieces of decay and rot that had long since fallen off the zombies’ bodies. The crud brushed against her, stuck in her hair, the knowledge nearly cracking her sanity and sending her into a full-out panic.
Atlas was down there somewhere!
After a second’s hesitation, she began to swim toward the swarming mess of tangled creatures, struggling not to vomit at the sight of the swimming dead.
Something brushed her shoulder, and Morgan jolted, twisting around and brought up her fists, half expecting to find an animated skeleton.
Instead, Ascher lifted his hand, then pointed beyond her shoulder.
She paddled and kicked, turning…and saw Atlas fighting off three aqua-zombies. Draven swam like he was a part of the water, his body slicing through the lake. He dragged one of the zombies away, using strength alone to haul the struggling weight.
With one arm free, Atlas lost his shit.
Instead of killing with his usually efficiency, he snarled and grabbed the head of the nearest creature, giving it a vicious twist, madness lurking in his eyes as he ripped it clear off the zombie’s body.
He then used the skull to bash the remaining zombie until its face caved, the features completely obliterated, leaving pieces of rotting brain matter churning in the water. Then Draven was back, pointing at something she couldn’t see before grabbing Atlas and swimming into the distance.
Morgan followed, glad to see the rest of the team doing the same. Oxygen became thin, her lungs tight with the need to inhale. Ryder was ahead of her, struggling to find an even stroke. In front of them, she finally spotted what Draven had seen…another tunnel. She hesitated for a moment, then headed for the surface. She closed her fingers into a fist, her black blade forming in an instant, and she hacked away the vegetation.
She forced her arms through, then pulled herself up, gasping for air as her head broke the surface. A hand gripped her wrist, and she glanced up to see Ward helping her keep her head above water.
“We need to move. It won’t be long before those creatures finish their meal and come searching for more. Follow me.” She flung her hair out of her face, took a deep breath and slipped under the surface again.
She swam after the others, pleased when Ward splashed into the water behind her.
Less pleased when Katar and his men plunged in after him.
The water began churning beneath them, the natives growing restless, sensing the disturbance in the water. Even now, a few of them pulled themselves awkwardly toward the surface, seeking new prey.
As she approached the tunnel, she saw Draven waiting for her. When she came within touching distance, he clasped his hand around hers and tugged her after him into the tunnel. Light began to filter through the water, and Morgan nearly sagged in relief.
Topside.
As they surfaced, the guys were waiting, along with Loki, who danced around their feet at the sight of her. She was so weak she clung to Draven, glad for his support. “Thank you. Again.”
“Of course.”
Draven ducked away from her praise, pushing her toward the others, and she made a mental note to ask what was wrong when they had a second alone. Kincade and Ascher grabbed her wrists and hauled her out. Ryder did the same for Draven. Morgan scooped up Loki and leaned against both guys, grateful for their warmth, the air making her realize how dangerously low her temperature had dropped. To her surprise, the phoenix shifted along her back, and her dripping clothes were dried in seconds.
She twisted her shoulder to find a comfortable spot, and Kincade caught her shirt, then tugged the back of her collar down. She peered over her shoulder at the carving. Instead of angry, scabby red lines, the welt appeared to be—
“It’s fading.”
The question was—would it fade before Katar followed through on his threat to kill her?
“But why?” Ascher brushed his fingers over the skin next to the mark, then tugged her shirt back into place. “The other marks have never faded.”
“The sigil is a spell, which her natural resistance to magic is forcing out.” Kincade reluctantly released her and stepped back. “The other marks are runes, which are used to enhance magic.”
Ward emerged from the water next, dragging himself out of the hole and staggering to his feet. Katar popped out seconds later, resembling to a drowned rat.
“Get me out of here.” He thrust out his hand demandingly.
When no one moved, his brows lowered and he wiggled out of the opening on his own. His three goons didn’t wait for him to exit completely, pushing and shoving their way into the small opening, elbowing each other as they clawed themselves out.
“We made it.” Katar was on his hands and knees, staring into a connecting cavern. “The gates of Tartarus.”
“You son of a bitch.” Atlas was lounging against the cave wall one second, the next, he was across the room, grabbing Katar by the throat and hefting the bastard to his toes. “Those were my men down there, men you led to their death. Whatever the hell that’s powering this place animated and brought them back. They’ll never rest in peace—because of you!”
Pressure tightened on Morgan’s throat, cutting off her air. Loki frantically licked her face, and she shoved the wiggling pup at Ascher. She clutched her throat to ease the pressure, sucking in a wheezing breath when Kincade tipped her face up to study the problem. She slashed her hand back and forth in front of her throat, and his face hardened.
He whirled and charged across the room, plowing into both Atlas and Katar, sending the lot of them crashing to the floor. Morgan greedily sucked in a deep breath of much-needed oxygen.