Page 85 of Cold Curses

This was the first time we’d encountered a ward that incorporated a living creature. It was new territory.

“Manual,”Theo intoned, drawing out each syllable for emphasis.

“And the human who found it first would’ve sold it to the highest demon bidder,” Uncle Catcher said. He wasn’t much of a philanthropist.

“Point,” Theo conceded.

“Back to the sound thing,” Petra said. “Start with asking it to leave.”

“In English?” I asked.

“Unless you speak leviathan, yes.” Petra’s voice was remarkably matter-of-fact.

“Maybe George knows,” Mom said.

“George?” Petra asked.

“A river troll,” Mom said, and pointed to the next bridge downriver. “I’ve met him before.”

“It’s possible he knows how to communicate with Levi,” Aunt Mallory said.

“Thanks, Petra,” Theo said. “We’ll do what we can here and keep you posted.”

I could tell from his voice that he was running out of patience with magical hijinks. That was the problem of being on supernatural hijinks patrol. There wasn’t an off switch and wouldn’t be one until the wards were fixed.

Mom looked at us. “Who wants to talk to the nice monster?”

“I’ll try,” I said. “You go talk to George, since you know him.”

I also wanted to talk to George, as I’d never met a river troll, but I was the best candidate for this. Theo was mortal, and Lulu needed her parents.

Mom looked at me, then at the missing chunk of railing, then at me again. The parental battle was clear on her face, but she nodded, then looked at Uncle Catcher. “Keep working on the wards.” Then to Aunt Mallory: “Brainstorm a backup spell. I’ll be back,” she said, and strode down the street.

“Thoughts?” I asked as Levi surfaced again and jumped into the air—beautifully, I had to admit, at least until his tail whipped the head off a statue mounted to one of the towers at the end of the next bridge.

“Stay out of range?” Theo offered, worry in his eyes.

“That’s a goal,” I said. I blew out a breath and walked to the part of the railing that was still wet with Levi’s blood.

First thing, find it under the water. I closed my eyes, hoping I’d hear it coming if I missed the timing, and opened myself to the magic. I concentrated on the world beyond, stretching until I could sense the creature’s magic in the water.

And it was miraculous. A rainbow of shimmering power in the river’s dark depths, the colors moving and blending like puddles of wet paint as they flew through the water. That was the goal, Ithought. To live a life in your own prism of joy, even when surrounded by darkness.

I could’ve stood there for hours just watching the colors move. And I wondered—a moment too late—if that was how Levi lured prey into the range of those remarkable jaws.

When I finally opened my eyes, I was staring into Levi’s. And then its teeth were on my arm, and Aunt Mallory screamed, and Levi and I were diving.

* * *

The water’s chill hurt first. Any residual pain from my encounter with Dante was gone, replaced by the piercing objection of muscles to freezing water. The pain triggered my desire to suck in air, and I had to bite my mouth shut to keep from breathing in the river. I wouldn’t have much time before my last breath was exhausted. And even a vampire wouldn’t come back from that.

I could see nothing as Levi pulled me through the darkness, and I had to stem the rising panic. It was night, and even the glow from downtown Chicago’s copious streetlights didn’t reach the murky depths of the river. Levi’s teeth were still clamped on my arm—not chewing, but gripping—and I wondered if it simply meant to drown me. Maybe the Guardians had taught it that was the appropriate end for demon invaders.

I pulled my arm, trying to tear it free of Levi’s maw. When that didn’t work, I tried to wrench around and strike the creature with my free hand, but couldn’t get enough leverage to turn against the force of the water. So I half-turned and kicked and landed a shot on Levi’s snout. He threw his head in the opposite direction, causing his claws to rip through my flesh; my blood spilled from the wounds into the water.

Levi circled to a stop, regarded me with one big unblinking eye—its pupil dilating, contracting, dilating. And then, as mylungs began to scream for air…it literally spit me out. I was torn between relief and insult, and I desperately hoped I’d survive, not least because I didn’t want “coughed up by the river monster” as my epitaph.

And then it was pushing me up toward the surface with its muzzle. My vision was going dotty from lack of oxygen, and I wasn’t sure if the spots in my vision were glimmers of streetlights overhead or hints of the beginning of asphyxia.