Hostage (47 page)

Then the hover gave a slight jerk, making Rowan remember what he’d done.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!”

Turning on his flashlight again, he balanced it on the boxes and struggled to lift Astrin so he was propped up against the wall. Astrin sagged, his head lolling. Whatever they’d done to him, it was clear he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon.

“Oh hell, Astrin, what am I going to do? What the fuck am I going to do? Please… please wake up and help me. I don’t know if I can do this without you. Oh hell. I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

Gathering himself, Rowan placed his hand flat on the wall and concentrated. The plasti-metal melted away under his hand and within moments he was showered with spray through the large hole. The sea outside looked angry and dark, the foam thrown up in the wake of the craft glittering silver in the moonlight. In the distance Rowan could see lights on the quay, but they were already far away from shore.

“Fuck,” Rowan swore. They were moving faster than he’d expected. Any minute now and—

There was an enormous cracking sound, and the hover stopped dead, flinging Rowan, Astrin, and much of the contents of the shelves right across the room to crash into the far wall. Through the hole, the sea and sky pitched violently as the front end of the hover hit the sandbank Rowan had raised across the channel. The hull cracked and, still riding the air, the front end flew upward, raising the entire hover out of the water.

For a moment there was absolute silence and stillness. Then the hover came down, broke its back on the sandbank, and slid backward. Water poured through the two holes in the hull and rose with alarming speed in the storeroom.

Grabbing Astrin under the arms, Rowan dragged him across the sharply canted room toward the hole, which was now under water. The sea poured in, sealing the hole with an impenetrable barrier for as long as the torrent continued. Rowan realized very quickly that there was no way he was going to get Astrin out of the hole until the water stopped coming in—which meant they had to wait until the room completely filled with water. That was fine for him, since he’d be able to take a deep breath and hold it, but Astrin….

When the cold water hit him, Astrin stirred slightly and moaned, but he was still nowhere near conscious. Rowan’s eyes darted around the room, seeing nothing he could use to help. Then an idea hit him. He quickly struggled out of his T-shirt, which was no easy feat when he was trying to support Astrin too. It was a desperate plan, but it might just save Astrin’s life. If he tied it tightly enough around Astrin’s head, covering his nose and mouth, he wouldn’t be able to breathe but at least he wouldn’t breathe in water.

Rapidly the room filled with freezing cold water and the two boys began to float. Astrin was no longer a dead weight, but it was still a struggle to keep his head above the water.

A
LL
AT
S
EA

T
HE
ROOM
was tilted at a crazy angle, and as they rose with the water Rowan noted there would be an air pocket right at the top corner. By keeping their heads close to the ceiling, jammed right into the corner, he was able to maintain an air supply until the room was completely full and the water stopped coming in.

It hadn’t been easy keeping Astrin’s head clear of the water, and Rowan’s arms were already tired, drained of strength by the freezing-cold sea. He took a deep breath and wished he could get Astrin to do the same, but he was still oblivious in his arms.

Rowan cupped Astrin’s cheek with one hand, tilting his face up so he could look into it. He couldn’t brush away the long strands of hair that sliced across it, darkened in the dim room. The only light filtered dimly up from beneath them where Rowan’s flashlight flickered on and off, struggling.

Soaking in the pale beauty of the boy he loved, Rowan stroked Astrin’s cheek and silently begged him to wake, to show any sign of life, anything he could work with.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done to tie the soaked T-shirt tight around Astrin’s face. He knew it would cut off his air supply, that he was deliberately suffocating his lover, but he had no idea what else to do. If they got out, he could take the cloth off quickly. If not… it really didn’t matter.

“I don’t know if you can hear me. We have to go into the water now. I hope you can hold your breath. Don’t breathe in the water, Astrin. Please don’t drown. I can’t lose you, not now. Please, babe, please hold on. I’ll save you. I swear I’ll save you, but you have to not breathe in the water when we dive.”

There was no response, not a twitch to show Astrin had heard, and time was against them. Astrin was shivering deeply and so—knowing they would both be in serious trouble from the cold if he delayed any longer—Rowan took another deep breath, then another, packing his lungs with air and precious oxygen. When he began to feel light-headed, he took one final breath and dove.

The cold water closed over his head, making him panic for a brief moment. It was pitch black now, the flashlight having finally died, and he had no idea where he was supposed to go. Then the thought struck him that Astrin was totally helpless, totally dependent on him. It was enough to calm Rowan, and he struck out, with renewed purpose, for the place he thought the hole should be. Now more than ever, he wished Astrin were conscious and able to use his ability over water.
Ah well.

Striking powerfully downward, Rowan became aware of a slight current, an eddying of the water that indicated it was moving in from the sea. Kicking toward it, his outstretched arm hit the wall.

Following the wall downward, Rowan soon found the hole and slipped through. He wished he’d made the hole bigger, and wondered if it was worth expending energy to do so now. Almost losing his hold on Astrin, he was brought panic-stricken back to the moment and, renewing his hold, he yanked Astrin through the hole and kicked for the surface.

They were not far underwater, since the hover was grounded on the sandbank, so it did not take long for Rowan to break the surface. He had never been so glad of anything in his life before as when he took his first breath of salty night air. It was more difficult to get Astrin up and out of the water. Tearing off the sodden T-shirt, he draped both of Astrin’s arms around his neck and put his own arms around him, crushing Astrin against him to keep his face cradled against his neck and out of the water.

The scene around him was eerie since the lights on the stricken hover were flickering hellishly, and there seemed to be flashes and puddles of illumination everywhere. In the strange light, Astrin’s face looked gray, his lips blue, and Rowan was terrified. He couldn’t let go to check if Astrin were still alive, still breathing. Rowan struck out for land, or where he hoped land would be, towing the unconscious Astrin with him as best he could. Although Rowan was a very strong swimmer, it wasn’t easy to maneuver through the water with Astrin clasped to his chest. He inched forward in a kind of one-armed backstroke with Astrin half lying on him, held in position by a cold and rapidly weakening arm.

The dead weight dragged him down, making him quickly tire in the cold water. The sea was choppy, and he sank and crested, bobbing as he struggled onward inch by inch.

He was getting so very cold and his fingers kept slipping, causing Astrin to slide down his body, closer to the water.

“No.” He gritted his teeth and hauled Astrin up again. “You are
not
going to slip. You are
not
going to drown. I will
not
lose you;
not
now,
not
like this.” He used the words as a mantra, striking out on the “not.”

Now and again, he got a flash of someone struggling in the sea nearby, but he didn’t care. He really didn’t care. They could drown for all he cared. After what they’d done to Astrin, he hoped they would.

The arm came out of nowhere. It curled around his neck and dragged him under. He struggled back to the surface, fighting desperately, but it was impossible to fend off the owner of the arm and also hold on to Astrin. In a blind panic, he felt Astrin slip and, ignoring the pain as the arm yanked his head back against a rock-hard chest, he grabbed for Astrin and hauled him clear of the water again. He wished with all his heart that Astrin would wake up, just enough to keep himself floating.

“I don’t know what you did,” a voice hissed in his ear, “but I know you’re responsible for this. You wrecked my ship.”

Rowan tried to speak, but the arm around his neck cut off his breath. Although he fought with all his might, there was nothing he could do to break the grip. He tried to summon his ability but he was too cold, too tired, and too weak to focus.

The arm seemed to get tighter and tighter. There was a roaring in his head that wasn’t coming from the crashing waves or the distant hum of the hover. Strangely lucid, he paused to wonder why the hover was humming again when it had fallen silent after the crash. Then his eyes rolled as lack of oxygen finally brought an end to his struggles. His last conscious thought was one of incredible sorrow as Astrin slipped from his arms and sank.

F
OR
WHAT
seemed like a long time Rowan wandered in darkness, shying away from the light. He didn’t want to embrace the light, because he knew what was waiting for him there—loss, pain, emptiness. He knew he wasn’t dead. He’d heard voices, realized he was no longer in the cold water but a warm bed. He could have woken up if he’d wanted, but he didn’t want to. He clearly remembered the last thing that had happened, the feeling of consciousness slipping away and, even worse, of Astrin slipping away.

“No. No….”

“Rowan? Rowan, wake up, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”

“No,” he said stubbornly.

“It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’re safe now. Everything’s all right now.” Something soft touched his cheek and stroked his hair. With an anguished moan, Rowan turned away from it, his heart breaking. He didn’t want someone else’s hand to touch him. He didn’t ever want anyone’s hand to touch him, no one ever again.

“Leave me alone,” he croaked, tears spilling from his eyes. They burned, as if the tears were made of salty seawater—the water that had taken away from him the only thing he’d ever truly valued.

“Rowan? What’s the matter, darling? What’s wrong?”

The realization hit him that the owner of the hand was Astrin’s mother, and a new wave of pain constricted his heart.

Slowly he turned his head and opened his eyes. She looked pale and deeply concerned.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry? Rowan, sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry about. You were so brave. If it hadn’t been for you, Astrin would have disappeared, and we might never have known what had happened to him.”

“They were going to take him to Strebo Michael,” he said dully, and Agnes paled further.

“Then we are doubly, triply grateful to you.”

“They were mercenaries. Strebo paid them to hunt us down and take us back. I walked right into their pockets.”

“But you got out again. You saved Astrin. You brought him back to us.”

Rowan shook his head. “I should have left him. I should have let them take him. At least then he’d have been safe. He would have….” Scalding tears burned his eyes and cheeks with acid. He shook his head again, harder, and finally managed to croak, “I’m sorry.”

Agnes gazed at him with an expression of such great compassion it completely broke his heart. He turned on his side, curling into a ball, and began to sob uncontrollably. Agnes sat down on the bed and took him into her arms. At first he went stiff and tried to struggle, but then he simply collapsed, sobbing, against her.

“Rowan, what’s wrong? What’s making you so upset? Why are you saying such crazy things? Of course it would not have been better if you’d left him in their hands. Why would you say that?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried… I tried so hard, but I couldn’t hold on. That man was… he was choking me, and I tried so hard… I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold him.”

“Oh, Rowan, sweetheart. You thought…. You think…. Rowan, listen to me.”

“No, please… don’t say it. I can’t bear it. I’m so sorry. I swear I tried, I swear it. I tried to save him. I tried so hard.”

“Rowan…. Rowan, listen to me. Listen.” Agnes took his face between her hands and smiled. It was so beautiful, so much like Astrin’s that he couldn’t look at her. “You
did
save him. You saved him.” Hope flared in his breast, and his eyes searched Agnes’s face.

“When the hover hit whatever it was it hit, our men were already on the quay. Hersten and Charles were in the first hovers that went after it. They saw that man grab you, but they couldn’t quite get there in time to stop him. By the time they arrived, you were on the verge of passing out. Charles and Hersten came after you while the men in the hover stunned that awful man and then helped get all four of you on board. Of course, that man is now in prison, but—”

“Wait.” Rowan sat up so fast that his head spun, and he gripped her hands in his so tightly that she couldn’t suppress the little gasp of pain. His eyes scoured hers with desperate hope.

“Are you telling me… are you saying that he’s not dead? Astrin’s not dead?”

Agnes smiled her gentle smile and shook her head. “He’s not dead, my dear one—far from it. That dreadful man drugged him, but the drug did no lasting harm. He swallowed some seawater, but the doctors and his father have examined him and, thanks to you, he is going to be fine.”

Rowan collapsed onto the pillows, relief making him weak. He began to weep again, but softly this time. Agnes sat with him, stroking his hair in a motherly fashion until he calmed and slipped into sleep.

T
OGETHER
F
OREVER