Unmasked | Book 1 in "Dark Descendants" (Editing)

Chapter 40

For a moment, it was dead silent. Nothing moved, no creature made a sound. The pale light of the moon threw silver splashes along all in its path, almost as chilling as the water. It looked like frosted sheets of cold ice, frozen over as if it was winter. Not a ripple was visible, it could have passed for ice.

There were rocks here. Cold and rough, weed-choked and moss-covered. Trees were wild, leaning over to form a dreamy sort of arch over the water, stretching across the surface, as if lending assistance to anyone who may have been swimming inside. Anyone who might have been stuck underneath.

But who would have done so at a time like this? An unpredictable weather, a deafening silence that could hide even the worst danger in it's veil. Certainly no animal, even they would be wise enough to stay away. Anyone who would drop in at a time like this would come out, if at all, only half alive.

No, someone had to have a good reason. A solid reason, something depending upon life or death. That is the only possible reason. 

One wouldn't know by watching him dive in. To reach for a necklace that had settled at the bottom of the dark, unpredictable water.

Half alive indeed, his skin would have turned blue. Decomposed flesh would decorate his skin in some places, patches of skin simply peeled away in others. One wouldn't notice, but a cloud of red liquid drifted up from underneath, spreading. One wouldn't be aware of someone suffering underneath. One wouldn't even think that someone was dying.

But if someone was sitting there, watching the unfathomable dark waters they would notice the hand breaking through the surface and grabbing onto a hanging root.

Knuckles turned white as the man underneath squeezed it hard in a crushing grip, struggling to pull himself out. It was like the water was sucking him back inside, back underneath. He never really liked water, not only because it could kill him. It seemed more demonic than him, the way it just lay there, seemingly harmless, waiting for a body to swallow underneath, ever-so calmly, silently.

He grit his sharp teeth, all pointed, and managed to heft himself halfway out of the surface. The sucking action increased. Fallon cried out as his hand slipped down the root. He stretched his neck, trying to keep his head above the surface, only to plunge back.

Another hand grabbed his wrist.

It seemed comparatively easy for the stranger to heft him out than him doing it himself. He knew it was because of him. His other half. His demon side. He heard a grunt of effort, accompanied with a stronger pull at his arm. The cold air hit his wet skin from the waist up. He groaned as he lifted his free hand, sinking his fingers into the leveled dirt above him.

The other person responded by reaching under his arm, pulling him hard. For what seemed like hours, he was stuck between two forces like the rope in a game of tug-of-war. His fate could go either way.

Until the water seemed to let go with a sucking pop!

The stranger's hold seemed slacken, relaxing the force the had put into assistance, as Fallon was boosted forward enough to sink both claw-edged hands into the soil. With a groan of effort, he reached up further along the ground, like he was climbing a wall. Soon he had lifted himself up onto land.

The soles of his boots hit the ground in a crouch. He relaxed the grip he had on either side of him, withdrawing his dirt-tipped fingers from the soil and raised them to his face to stare at them, as well as his skin that was now fading back to normal. Then he turned his eyes up to his savior in front of him.

Upon feeling no sense of familiarity towards the person, his lips peeled back and he hissed. A stinging sensation blew onto his cheek, sending his head whipping to the side for the second time in two weeks.