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I’m going to die, he thought, before remembering that was ridiculous.
There were only two ways for a vampire to die. Either a stake or silver destroyed the heart, severing their connection to the Shadow and preventing regeneration, or sunlight burned them to ash. Neither of those things had happened to Thanatos today, though he almost wished it were daytime. That way, he wouldn’t be in utter darkness as the surface of the water slipped away. Vampires cannot die by drowning. That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.
He’d held his breath reflexively, and that would give him at least ten minutes, but those ten minutes were only a delay of inevitable suffering. No one was coming for him. Not any time soon, at least, and he’d be surprised if Little Miss Angel of Death bothered looking for him at all. His job had been to make sure the Duchess was where she was supposed to be when Tenebrus came for her. It should have been simple: wining and dining a married woman was practically in his blood as a Iuventus. He should have been more careful with the wine. He’d assumed the odd feeling in his stomach was nerves or being unused to the mixed bloodwine served in high vampire houses, but it was too late to second guess once his muscles had locked up and dear Essie had pushed him into the lake. Thanatos didn’t blame her. He would have done the same if the Harbinger had shown up to his door. His lungs convulsed, and he willed himself to hold out a little longer.
Even if she hadn’t poisoned him, it wasn’t as if he could swim. The Shadow didn’t like water of any kind, and Thanatos hadn’t been much of a swimmer even when he’d been much more alive than he was now. He didn’t take kindly to his face being under water, and even as his peers had teased him by the sea and in the bathhouses, he would never let his shoulders slip below the surface. It was a rather primal fear that gripped him now, every instinct wailing that his death was close at hand. It wasn’t. He would drown, and the Shadow would revive him, and then he would drown again, and the Shadow would revive him, and he would drown again.
The Shadow would revive him.
His diaphragm convulsed again, and a gout of bubbles fountained from his nose before he could stop them. He didn’t know why he was fighting so hard. It wasn’t as if this was any less painful than repeatedly drowning would be, or if it was, that he would remember his suffering being shorter if he held out an extra three or four minutes. He probably wouldn’t remember it at all. Regenerating brain damage was the worst feeling of all. One never knew how much memory one was losing, and a vampire’s memories were already precious. It was so difficult for a human mind to hold thousands of years’ worth of life. Thanatos didn’t want to lose things that were important to him, like his mother or the early days with the Archfey.
Oh… If he never made it out of this lake, would the Archfey know what had happened to him? Would ae ever be able to find him? (To save him?) Or would ae just think he’d found the waiting too tedious and left, abandoning everything they’d built together?
Despair gripped him, and he released another stream of bubbles from his nose. There was no point in fighting anymore. He was going to die here, again and again and again. He let go. Water flooded his lungs and his limbs, made sluggish by the poison, finally made a feeble attempt at thrashing, but it was too late. There was no fresh burst of oxygen to be found by releasing that breath he’d been holding, only cold water and doom. He drowned moments later.
The typical sharp inhale his body reflexively attempted upon revival was, of course, fruitless. His diaphragm spasmed sluggishly against the pressure of the water and his entire body erupted in searing agony. He still had no proper control over his limbs, though, so of course, he drowned again.
Second time. Same procedure. Another drowning. A third. A fourth. How long was this poison meant to last? He supposed if it had been meant for a vampire, very long indeed. He wouldn’t be able to detoxify his blood without a fresh blood meal to replace it, which was very unlikely here eight metres below the surface of the water. Oh, hold on, he was drowning again. He got better at thinking through the pain each time, though he could tell it was progressively increasing as his blood reserves got lower and lower. Thanatos had no way of knowing how much time passed between unconsciousness and revival. He might have already been down here for decades. He drowned again.
Thanatos had lost count of how many times he had drowned when he felt something different upon waking. He was moving. A firm grip had caught him by the collar and was towing him upward. Was he being saved, or was it one of the Duchess’s people? He didn’t have time to think about it. He drowned again before they reached the surface.
The next time he woke, he was on the shore. There was a voice beside him, vaguely familiar, saying things like “stupid fuck’s not breathing” and “you useless lump, breathe, damn you!” His body had given up entirely on trying to breathe ages ago, and he was sure he looked exactly like a corpse. He certainly felt like one. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Breathing was difficult and painful. Sleeping wasn’t.
It couldn’t be avoided when the voice became firm hands doing chest compressions, though. Water fountained from his mouth and nose, and after a brief period where he died again, he finally coughed up the rest, and then some. He spent several minutes hacking up throatslime and mud while the person who had saved him held him upright. When he could finally take a breath without choking, he wiped lake water and tears out of his eyes and looked to see who it was.
“Tenebrus?”
“Yeah.”
“You… saved me.”
“Not by choice. Blinked in after you, found myself underwater. Thought I might as well take you with me to the surface or nobody’d ever find you. You nearly drowned me, you know.” Nonchalant as ever. He supposed that was why people hired her.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head and stood. “Whatever. Can you walk, or…?”
His legs still felt like gelatin. “Not at the moment. Just leave me. I’m sure I’ll work something out.”
“I’ll bring you a blood pack on my way out, but that’s the last help you’re getting from me, clear? You really are such a nuisance.” Her boots squished as she turned to walk away, and she made a face.
Maybe he’d just go back to sleep until she came back.