Mercy Thompson 06 - River Marked

Coyote certainly didn’t seem to eschew bragging, but no one was predicting victory here.
    After a half hour, I decided that knee-deep wasn’t working. I took a deep breath and held it, listening intently to the river. Nothing—or at least nothing I could distinguish from the normal sounds. The problem was that there was too much noise. Water brushing the shore, night birds and insects hunting food or mates, even the highways all worked to camouflage any sound the river devil might make.
    I stared out at the far shore and imagined her out there, watching me and waiting. I took another step out, feeling the ground under my feet start to drop off. Another step, and I was abruptly waist-deep.
    From the shore, Adam howled. I turned around and waved to them to show that the move had been voluntary.
    “Knee-deep isn’t working,” I said. “I thought I’d try a little deeper.” Two steps was all it had taken—I was still quite close to shore.
    An otter head popped up about ten feet from me, looking smug. He couldn’t hurt me here in the swimming area, according to Uncle Mike. But where the otters were, quite often the river devil was as well. I lost my nerve and turned to go back—and something wrapped around one ankle and hauled me through the water like a water-ski boat. Something that might have been Coyote’s hand brushed mine, then was gone.
    I spread my body out, trying to create as much drag as I could, even as I fumbled with Adam’s shirt, trying to get it open enough to get at the knives. I knew what she was doing; I’d seen her do it to others. I had no intention of being her meal, but I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to do anything to stop it.
    I had to try. If I died first, the whole enterprise was at risk.
    So I concentrated on the advice Sensei Johanson had once told me was the first and most important way to win a sparring match: “Be ready.”
    The river devil had pulled me deep under the surface, and it was dark. I was watching for her, and I saw nothing—but I felt the change in the currents of the water as she opened her mouth.
    You, I shall consume with much pleasure, the river devil told me. And then I shall know how you defy me when no other mortal thing has. I shall learn and learning grow stronger.
    Mercy! It was Adam, his voice a roar in my head overwhelming her words so I could move again.
    More by luck than by skill, though I was trying to feel for anything I could grab, my free foot caught the outside of a tooth that was longer than my shinbone, and I grabbed another upper tooth with my left hand and stopped myself, arching my body away from her.
    Mercedes. His voice was a howl of grief that I couldn’t answer, not if I wanted to save myself.
    I remembered, from seeing her head above the water, that the teeth in the front of her mouth were spiky and stuck out almost like the quills of a porcupine. They were also long, and I hoped that she couldn’t open her mouth wide enough to engulf me as long as I kept my feet braced on the outside of her lower jaw and my grip on the upper tooth.
    You make things harder than they should be, she told me. You are caught and cannot get away.
    She snapped her teeth together with wicked speed—but I am wicked fast, too. I bent and straightened with her. The water helped as well. When she snapped her mouth closed, the water pushed out.
    She changed tactics and tried to use her tentacle to shake me loose. I noticed that this close to her, the tentacle seemed to be operating a little less efficiently, like a rubber band that was too loose. It could hold on to me, it could pull me—but it couldn’t push me.
    I didn’t know why she didn’t try to grab me with another tentacle. Maybe she was just too angry right now. But when she did, I was dead. If this stalemate lasted much longer, I was dead anyway. My abilities didn’t extend to breathing water, and I’d been underwater for a while.
    On a particularly hard jerk, I took a chance and stopped resisting with my legs. She was pulling so hard that she yanked my legs up past her upper teeth. She quit pulling as soon as she realized what she had done, but too late. She’d already given me enough slack to twist my tentacle-caught leg around one of the long spikelike teeth at the front of her mouth. The next time she pulled her tentacle, she’d be pulling on her own tooth instead of my leg.
    All well and good, but if I didn’t get air soon, all the cleverness in the world wouldn’t help me. I