With her negative emotions in a state of flux at the moment, Lira refused to talk to Owen or Genzel while they waited for night to fall. She sat with her back to the dying fire, drawing designs in the sand with the tip of her knife.

She was having trouble figuring out what she felt about Genzel and his story. Owen seemed content enough to forgive and move on, but a bad taste still lingered in her mouth. It was odd, she thought, for someone who's father left him to be so understanding about what Genzel had done. Then again, maybe it came down to the simple fact that Genzel had never left. Even in death or limbo or whatever he was, the old man was still with his family.

Weird family.

She finished her main spiral in the sand and began to branch off it in lazy curls, the knife tip making no noise as it dragged through the powder.

So why did it bother her so much? Why care? Because she didn't believe he wanted to help? No, that wasn't it. He had gone through a lot of trouble to give them a chance to speak to Zabaria—the fat lot of good it did them. Regardless, he had helped. Perhaps he wanted freedom for his soul as well, though she wasn't sure he deserved it.

A small, miniscule if she wanted to be honest, part of her even felt bad for Bebinn. She could see how someone could turn into a witch after their own father sold them off.

Lira dropped her knife. The broad side of the blade struck the ground and scattered the sand, ruining her meandering artwork.

She knew why she was mad. It was Genzel's fault she was stuck here, a servant to his ruthless daughter. His own selfish actions in life had set in motion the chain of events that had led to her being trapped in the spirit world.

She looked over her shoulder at the old man, who was conversing in hushed tones with Owen, and felt a fresh wave of anger. If not for him, she would be sleeping in her own bed instead of on the shore of a dark lake that shouldn't exist, desperately trying to get back home. She wouldn't be responsible for hundreds of children whose fates she would never know.

Her fingers shook as she picked up the knife once more. He was the reason why so many lives had altered course. Anger to rival that of what she had felt when she first arrived in the carnival coursed through her in time with her heartbeat and she grit her teeth against the roil in her stomach. She gripped the knife, now stuck point-down in the sand, harder to ground herself.

She would go along with the old man because she had to, because right now it was her best option. Bust as far as she was concerned he would never deserve absolution.

"Lira," Owen called from the fire. "It's time."

###

Lira crouched among a clump of reeds next to Genzel. Her muscles were tense, both from his proximity and the thought of what they were about to do. Sweat made her grip on the neck of the violin slippery and a wayward stalk kept poking her in the eye.

"Are we sure this is going to work?" she hissed between the reeds. Genzel silenced her with a hand and pointed to where Owen was walking along the beach, only inches away from the dark water. He was barefoot again, the black sand obscuring his feet. Lira couldn't see his face, but his balled fists were a clear indication of his uneasiness.

She didn't blame him; she would be uneasy too if she were playing bait.

Owen stopped several yards away from their hiding place and pivoted to walk into the water. The water sloshed around his ankles, coming to a rest at mid-calf when he paused. Lira knew a knife was concealed in a pocket of his rolled pants, but Genzel had ordered him not to use it unless absolutely necessary. A finger touched the pocket he must have stowed it in in an unconscious act of reassurance.

Seconds and then minutes ticked by with Lira's legs beginning to grow numb. "C'mon," she muttered. "Where are you?"

The silence of the spirit world took on a heavy quality. Lira could feel the air pressure more acutely then ever on her eardrums and eyes as she strained for any sensory indication that their quarry was approaching. Though she had long since learned to ignore the random flashes of light, now she kept turning her head and her heartrate kept spiking every time one burst in her peripheral vision. Soon enough her neck hurt from the strain, but if she was on edge she couldn't imagine how Owen felt.

"Be brave," she whispered.

It was dead silent when it finally emerged. Ripples spread from the spot where its head broke the surface, but there was no residual sound of the water lapping the shore or drops falling from its hair. It might as well have been a ghost. Or a spirit.

Black as coal, its coat made the kelpie hard to see against the dark lake, nothing more than a watery shadow. Water weeds hung from its tail and mane and it stood looking down at Owen with an almost curious expression on its long face.

"Now?" hissed Lira.

"Wait," said Genzel.

Lira turned back to the lake, trying to breathe around her heart that had since lodged in her throat. Why had they agreed to this ludicrous plan? Genzel had explained that the incense he usually used to draw and sedate kelpies had been lost when he had been dragged into the dark forest. Instead he had come up with their current tactic of using Owen to lure one from the lake and hope Lira's playing would subdue it before it potentially drowned Owen. It was primitive at best and Lira had argued against it, but according to Genzel it was their only choice. And Owen had agreed.

Surprise, surprise. Let's just hope his blind trust doesn't get him killed.

The kelpie took a silent step toward Owen and lowered its head. Owen reached out one hand to strike its neck while the other pulled loose the rope that was tied around his waist. With a languid motion, he threw the rope over the kelpie's broad shoulders and deftly tied a noose. The horse flicked its ears but stood still. He began to walk backward step by step, the rope wrapped around one hand, leading the water horse back to the shore.

"C'mon just a bit farther," said Genzel.

The silence of the scene gave it a dreamlike quality as though it was happening inside a snow globe. A terrifying snow globe. Not dreamlike, thought Lira, nightmarish. It threatened to crush all of them until it was broken by a soft whicker from the kelpie.

Owen froze, still facing the beast. It snorted, reaching out its long neck so its head was level with and nearly touching Owen. The horse made another soft noise and Owen lifted his free hand to once more pat its nose. Gathering the slack, Owen tugged the rope to get the horse moving again.

But something was wrong. The kelpie bobbed its head and stamped a foreleg, spraying Owen with water. He threw up a hand to shield his eye and then dove sideways as the horse reared, it's front hooves coming down where Owen had been a moment before.

"Shit," said Genzel.

Lira burst out of the reeds, scanning the water frantically for a sign of Owen. The horse was still there snorting and swinging its great head from side to side. A short breath of relief escaped her when she saw Owen's head break the surface, and heard him splutter as he spat out a mouthful of water. But her chest constricted when the horse spotted him and charged again. This time, Lira could hear the crashing of the water as its legs broke through. Whatever spell there had been was broken.

The horse's approach cut off the safety of the shore, forcing Owen under once more towards deeper water. The chase repeated when Owen emerged for a gasp of air. Lira's violin gave a twang as her nails scraped along the strings.

"Lira!" snapped Genzel. "Play!"

She shuddered out of her horrified immobile state and brought the instrument up, placed the bow on the strings, and then froze once more. What could she play to calm a rampaging horse?

"Anything," said Genzel, reading her hesitation. "Now!"

Lira let her senses take over, allowing the music to respond to her furious pulse and writhing fear. The song that poured forth was just as quick and frantic, cutting through the furious thrashing of limbs at the lake. She walked toward the water, letting it wash over her feet and ankles, goosebumps shivering up her limbs at the chill. The music swelled like a wave, gathering strength with a crest of chords, before breaking over them in shower of notes. Sweat trickled down her temples, but it got the attention of the horse. It wheeled to look at her, ears pinned back and teeth gnashing.

Instinctively, she eased the tempo, allowing it to fall note by note like a broken wave pulling back out to sea. And as it fell, the spirit began to relax. Its ears straightened and its head rose. The tension along its body released.

Lira kept playing as she moved closer, the water now swirling around her waist. From the corner of her eye, she saw another shape rise from the water, but she was too nervous to break eye contact with the spirit in front of her. A snort told her it was yet another kelpie that had joined them, drawn either by the commotion or the sound of music. Her heart constricted—how was she to tame both of them at once?

Behind the black kelpie in front of her, Lira saw Owen moving stealthily through the water, silent as an aquatic snake. He had eyes only for the horse, not realizing another had joined the fray. She mouthed frantically to him, but he was coiling the rope in his hands to ready for another capture attempt.

With one end wrapped around his hand, he threw the lasso towards the horse. A scream tore through Lira's playing as the second horse charged forward, caught the rope in its teeth, and galloped past. Owen fell back to avoid the beast, only to be jerked after it when the rope knotted around his hand grew taut.

Owen's shout cut off as he was once more submerged, the trough of his form beneath the dark water showing he was being dragged away. Lira's playing ended with a shrill screech of violin strings.

"Owen!" shrieked Lira.

The horse before her had remained motionless through the whole ordeal. Lira rushed toward it without thinking, swinging up onto its back and spurring it into motion. Her violin tumbled into the water.

Riding wet on a bare-backed horse, Lira struggled to hold on, calling to mind all the horseback training Jacks had given her over the years. Her legs screamed as she dug her knees into the kelpie's side, trying to keep her balance as she reached a hand to her belt and pulled out her knife.

This certainly counts as necessary.

She urged her kelpie faster and the horse responded, grunting with the effort and gaining on the fleeing stallion. From her vantage, Lira saw Owen's head briefly break the surface like a fin, his free hand trying in vain to undo the knot around his wrist. How much longer did he have before it drowned him?

Her kelpie drew level with the other's streaming tail, then its flank, they were gaining. But Lira feared Owen being trampled as they swerved closer to the horse. Now. She leaned over and plunged the knife into the stallion's shoulder blade. The horse screamed and Lira only just avoided its heavy hooves as she crashed into the water.

The world went dark and viscous and she choked when she tried to inhale. She tried to orient herself and scrabbled out with her hands to find the surface. She counted herself lucky that they were still in the shallows when she burst into the air and coughed water from her lungs.

"Owen?" she called. Her vision was blurry with water.

"Present," came a raspy voice. Her sight cleared and she saw him staggering toward her, the broken rope dangling from his wrist. She pushed herself to her feet and threw her arms around him. He gasped in pain but patted her on the back, the steady dripping of water mingling with their heaving breaths. "Thank you," he managed to get out.

She stepped away, feeling a faint blush chase some of the cold from her hands and cheeks.

"Nice work, kids," barked Genzel. They both turned to see Genzel tying new ropes around the kelpies who were both standing at the shore. The black one was still staring at Lira, oblivious to Genzel, while the white stallion, stained a faint pink from the blood dripping down its shoulder, held its injured leg aloft and glared murderously at her.

"I'm going to kill him," she muttered. Exhausted and bruised, the two made their way back to shore, Lira pausing once to grab the violin that had washed up on the sand.

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Whew! So what did you think? Action scenes aren't my strong point so any feedback would be super helpful!! :)