The Storm Runner (The Storm Runner 1)

“Problem?”

“Looks like the water’s rising,” I said more calmly than I felt.

Jazz’s eyebrows shot up. He rushed to the boat’s railing, aimed the light, and scanned the sea below. Shadows cast by the pale eyeless fish darted right under the surface. Then he mumbled a few curses and said, “It’s even worse than that.”

“Jazz!” Brooks shouted. “The walls are closing in—”

“Someone’s trying to shut this gateway!” Jazz jerked off his vest. “We gotta get out!”

“Get out?” Brooks said. “How much farther do we have to go?”

“Is there an emergency exit?” I hoped.

“Just a few feet,” Jazz barked. “A few lousy feet!”

I didn’t have to guess who was closing the gateway: Pukeface. Blasted tracker—I should’ve carved it out of my skin. But I’d been stupid enough to believe he’d be too busy tormenting the twins to care about me.

Jazz scrambled up to the deck, shifted the gears so hard the boat groaned in protest. The engine sputtered. “Come on, move!” he yelled.

I felt helpless. The water continued to rise. I heard the sound of rusted gears grinding as the walls kept closing in. The air was so thick, it felt like a living thing trying to choke us all.

“Zane!” Brooks hollered. “Do something!”

I gave her a panicked but blank look. “Like what?”

“You’re the son of…” She threw her hands into the air and shouted, “I don’t know, like ANYTHING!”

I leaned over the edge, willing the water to stay in place. Mat had only traced his hands through the water to get it to do as he commanded. Instinctively, I raised my hand. “Stay!” Okay, lame choice of words. I mean, I wasn’t commanding a dog. But it was all I could think of.

The water kept rising.

Rising and rising and rising.

My body stiffened. Jazz cursed up a storm as he rushed belowdecks and returned with an inflatable raft. “Boat’s too big to get through. It’s gonna get crushed like a sardine can!”

He was right. In

only a minute or so the crushing would begin. Jazz raised the raft to his mouth and started blowing. Fortunately, a giant’s lungs are big enough to inflate a four-person dinghy in fifteen seconds.

“No way I’m getting into that!” Brooks said to Jazz. “Those… those monsters will eat right through it.”

“They only eat flesh,” Jazz argued, rubbing his chin. “Don’t think they like rubber.”

“Oh,” I said with a casual shrug. “Well, that makes it a super option!”

My wrist began to burn like hot wax was dripping onto my skin. I didn’t want to look down. Somehow I knew that the second I did, everything would change.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Clenching my jaw, I glanced at Ah-Puch’s mark. The eyes beneath the eyelids moved back and forth wildly, impatiently. Slowly and painfully my skin began to tear, as if an invisible razor was slicing it open. I bit back a scream, watching in terror.

The eyelids opened. This wasn’t just a tattoo. These were real eyes. Black eyes that could see. Now I did scream.

A line of blood snaked down my arm.

“What is it?” Brooks’s voice shook.

A deep, dark laugh echoed off the walls.