Page 65 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

Lorelei felt the roar of the river, comforting and steady behind her. With a deep inhale, she reached for it and—there. As though the current were a thread, she grabbed hold of it. The aether pulled taut against her will. She slid one arm behind her back and curled her fingers beckoningly. A few tendrils of water slithered from the river and curled around her wrist like a serpent.

Ludwig stepped into a pale column of moonlight, looming above her. It was then she saw the bright red cravat knotted around his neck, a shade of rust that was startlingly familiar.

Tarnkappe.

An alp’s transformation was always imperfect. His fingers were too long to be natural and jointed quite sickeningly between his first and second knuckles. It gave his hands the impression of claws. She threw her hand forward, and the water slammed into him.

He staggered backward. When he looked up again, water dripped from the ends of his hair. His face was contorted with barely repressed rage. She’d never once seen Ludwig look at anyone like that.

“Now, why did you do that?” he asked lowly.

“I know what you are.” Lorelei did her best to sound vicious. “Your transformation is convincing, but the real Ludwig is still too sick to stand.”

The alp’s lips parted dumbly, as if it hadn’t considered that. Its face turned an impressive shade of purple. “I told you I would come back.”

“You should have been more patient.”

She pulled another stream of water from the river. Clenching her fist, she froze it solid and sent it hurtling toward the alp as a spear of ice. It landed true, embedding deep into the muscle of its shoulder. It howled in mingled pain and fury. Faster than she could track, it leapt at her.

She went down, her back striking the earth with athud. Her lungs emptied painfully, and stars danced in her eyes. Not-Ludwig’s fingers locked around her throat, its nails sharpening to deadly points that bit into her skin. She could feel the blood trickling hot down her neck. The smell of copper filled her nose as it bared its teeth.

Von Wolff. Her lips formed the shape of the words, but she couldn’t draw a single breath. She couldn’t scream. Her vision went black at the edges, and the world blurred into smears of watercolor.

Not like this, she thought.Not now.

With a twitch of her fingers, she drove the shard of ice deeper into its shoulder. The alp screamed again, loosening its grip. Air surged into her lungs, and an embarrassing whimper escaped her as reflexive tears welled in her eyes.

Move, she willed her useless body.Damn you, move.

The waterfall rushed just within her reach, hissing invitingly.Viper, it seemed to say.

With a shout, she called forth a rush of water and knocked the alp back. It gave her just enough of an opening. She threw herself on top of it, digging her knees into its shoulders, and gathered the water like a mask over its face. There was some small part of her that recoiled from her own actions, at just how easy it was to hold Ludwig’s likeness under. Bubbles simmered within the water as he struggled against her.

She knew what it meant to hate. She knew it from the moment she saw the depths of it in people’s eyes, and she felt it burn through her the night Aaron died. She felt it now, roiling beneath her skin. The alp surfaced enough to pull in a wet gasp of air, but Lorelei forced the water over its mouth again.

“Just die already!” she growled, the desperation roughening her voice.

“Lorelei! What are you doing?”

The sound of Sylvia’s voice stilled her. The beast wearing Ludwig’s form surged from the water with a broken sob. There was a wild, terrified gleam in its bloodshot eyes.

“Help,” he spluttered, clinging desperately to Lorelei’s forearm. “Please, help me!”

Sylvia’s gaze shifted between them. “Let him go.”

How could she be duped so easily? “You can’t be serious!It’s—”

“Now,” Sylvia said, a little impatiently.

Her thumb loosed her saber from its scabbard. Lorelei stared at her uncomprehendingly. And then it dawned on her what Sylvia meant to do. With a show of reluctance, Lorelei let the alp go and scrabbled out of the way.

Sylvia drew her saber with a ringing metallic sound. With a flourish, she lunged and drove it into the alp’s abdomen.

It let out an inhuman shriek, clutching at the wound. Blood seeped through its fingers, but it could do nothing for the flesh blackening and sloughing off. Underneath were thick tendrils of shadow, frantically knitting together in an effort to maintain its new shape.

Regret shone in Sylvia’s eyes. She rested her blade in the crook of her forefinger and thumb, wiping the blood off in one long stroke, then sheathed it again. Lorelei found it almostalluring—andwas too stunned to even scold herself for thinking it at all.

“Silver,” the alp hissed. The mask it had made of Ludwig’s face continued to melt off in bubbling gouts. “Howdareyou?”