Ilona Andrews - Bayou Moon

“Why?”

“It’s relaxing. You should try it.” Too late she realized that sounded like an invitation. Great. Just great. Would it have killed her to think before she opened her mouth? Jump in with me, Lord Bill, I’m swimming here, half-naked …

William shook his head. “No.”

Wait a minute. What did he mean “no”? “Why not?”

“I don’t like water.”

“Why?”

William grimaced. “It’s wet. And the pel … the hair stinks like fish for hours afterward.”

Cerise blinked. Was he serious? “Swimming is fun.”

“No, swimming gets you from point A to point B. What you’re doing isn’t swimming. You’re not going anywhere.”

Full of opinions, Lord Bill. “Swimming is good for you, and you could always shampoo your precious hair afterward. Your hair looks good after you wash it.”

He grimaced.

“I bet the women from the Weird tell you that you have great hair all the time, Lord Bill.” She bet they told him he was handsome as sin, too.

His face turned grim. “Women from the Weird tell me nothing. They don’t talk to me unless I pay them.”

Well, that was neither here nor there. William peered at her. “If you’re finished splashing in this muddy puddle, I’d like to get to Sicktree now.”

Cerise raised her eyebrows. “Muddy puddle?”

“To you it might seem like a giant crystal-clear mountain lake, but trust me, it’s a dirty little pond. I bet the bottom is squishy slime, too. I suppose trading the rotten spaghetti stench for the fish one is an improvement …”

He was going to take a dive into this lake. He just didn’t know it. Cerise rose, finding footing in the soft mud. The water came up to just below her breasts and her wet shirt stuck to her body. William’s gaze snagged on her chest. Yep, keep looking, Lord Bill. Keeeeeep looking.

Cerise raised her hand. William leaned forward, poised over the water. His strong dry fingers closed about hers. She smiled, gripped his hand, and bent her knees, hitting him with her full weight, trying to pitch him into the lake.

The muscles on William’s arm bulged. He flexed and she felt herself lifted out of the water. He plucked her out and held her above the lake for a moment.

The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose. Nobody was that strong.

A hint of a smile curved William’s mouth. Carefully he set her on the pier and caught her by the shoulders. “You okay?”

He was standing too close.

Cerise tilted her face up. “Fine.”

He had a peculiar look on his face, a slightly hungry, possessive expression. His hands on her shoulders felt dry and warm.

If he took a small step forward, his chest would touch her breasts.

Say something, you idiot. Snap him out of it. “So do you often rescue hobo queens from filthy puddles, Lord Bill?”

“William,” he told her quietly. It sounded like an intimate request.

“How’s your side?”

He let go of her long enough to raise his shirt. The dressing was gone—he’d probably taken it off, the ass—but the cuts had scabbed over. That was some fast healing.

William dipped his head, looking at her. There was nothing threatening in his gaze, but she had a distinct sense of being stalked by a large, careful predator. They had to get out of the damn swamp and into town, where there would be other people and she could leave him …

“Maybe swimming would be good,” he said.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Cerise looked past him, trying to think of something to say. Her gaze caught on chunks of battered wood bobbing in the lake just beyond the boundary. She squinted at them. Yep, sure enough. Cerise swore.

He turned. “What?”

“See those muddy broken boards in the lake?”

He looked to where she pointed. “Yes?”

“I think that’s our boat.”

CERISE stood at the boundary, staring into the Broken and listening to a torrent of cursing ripping from William’s mouth. He had used a couple of words she’d never heard before, and she filed them away for later. She’d have to ask Kaldar what they meant.

The boat was no more. And the long smudge flanked by clawed tracks left no doubt about who was responsible for demolishing it.

“I’ll kill that damn fish with my bare hands!” He must have run out of swear words.

Cerise sighed. One chunk of the punt lay twenty feet to the left, the next was up on a bush, the third was in the lake … “Boy, he really must’ve flailed around to throw the pieces so far apart.”

William took it as a sign to unleash another string of curses.

“It’s a lake house,” she said. “There is bound to be some kind of boat in there.”

Twenty minutes later they climbed into a narrow canoe they’d found in the garage and paddled through the boundary. The crossing took her breath away. Tiny painful needles pierced her insides. Cerise slumped over. Everything had a price. This was how she paid for her magic. She was lucky. Most of her family couldn’t even cross into the Broken.

“Are you all right?” William asked from the stern.

“Fine.” She swallowed the pain. Lord Bill seemed no worse for wear. “We’re aiming over there.” She pointed at the opposite end of the lake where a narrow river spilled into the water.

They began to paddle. The canoe slipped along, light and easy.

In front of her William paddled, hard muscles working on his back. Why did she have to meet him now? Why not a month before? Then she could’ve actually flirted and had the luxury of doing something about it. She really wasn’t handling this whole thing well. First, she practically invited him to frolic in the lake with her, then she let him ogle her, then …

The surface of the river dappled. Tiny silvery streaks burst from the waves in a reverse hail. Fish fry, scared out of their wits. Cerise grabbed her sword.

“Something’s coming!”

William dropped the paddle into the boat and pulled his knife.

A long serpentine shadow slid under the water. Cerise caught a flash of stubby fat paws. Not again. Damn it all …

The eel shot under the boat. Cerise lunged, thrusting the blade into the water, and felt the sword’s tip slide off the armored head. The creature dove, vanishing into gloomy depths, and she withdrew.

The lake lay placid.

A smooth wave rose and sped toward the boat. The fry leaped into the air in a futile attempt to escape. She gripped the canoe.

“He’s going to ram. Get down!”

The blunt head smashed into the boat. The small vessel careened, propped on the eel’s skull. A round fish eye stared at her.

William hacked at the head with his knife. The eel shot up, snapping at William’s legs. The boat careened and he fell into the water.

Oh no. She let the eel eat the blueblood.

Cerise took a breath and dived in after him.

Cold water burned her skin. Cerise hung suspended in the dense gray-green depth, seeing nothing, hearing nothing.

An icy spark of Gospo Adir magic flared to the left. She swam like a rolpie, kicking her feet in unison.

An outline of a scaly body loomed before her.

She sank her blade into it, cleaving into the spinal column, before she realized that the eel lay motionless. Pale blood leaked and spread through the water in opaque clouds. Cerise tasted copper on her tongue.

She surfaced and saw William, one hand on the boat, looking for her. He reached her in two strokes.

“You aren’t happy unless you’re wet,” he growled.

“There are times when wet is better than dry, but this isn’t one of them,” she snarled. “If you got down like I told you to, the fish wouldn’t have knocked you out of the boat.”

“It didn’t knock me out. I jumped in.”