Gifted Thief (Highland Magic #1)(50)

‘What the hell?’ I shrieked.

Jamie tried to back away but as I was dealing with the tentacle round my waist, another one snapped up round his wrist and dragged him inside the room. My fingers scrabbled, trying to loosen the damn thing’s grip. It wasn’t dry to the touch, despite its scales; it was slimy and wet, making it even more difficult for me to get a decent hold on it.

‘Tell me,’ I gasped, as I was flung against the far wall, ‘that you have a useful gift like telekinesis.’

‘Psychometry.’ He karate-chopped the tentacle that encircled his wrist. All he succeeded in doing was pissing it off because another tentacle appeared from nowhere and grabbed his other arm. ‘It means,’ he said, as he squirmed desperately, ‘that I can tell you this is a stoor worm. From the North Sea. It’s just a baby.’

What kind of a worm has tentacles? This was not good. ‘If it’s from the sea, then how the hell did it get here?’

‘Don’t know,’ he muttered as he was thrown up into the air then slammed down onto the stone floor with a painful thud.

‘Is this normal?’ By which I meant: is someone likely to work out what’s going on and come and rescue us?

‘No!’ He was face down so his answer was muffled.

‘Is it because of the Foinse?’

There was another muffled grunt that sounded like another no. The tentacle round my waist tightened until pain shot through me. If this wasn’t a result of the magic failing then it had to be because someone had conjured it up. Someone who wanted me dead. There was no way I was going to allow that to happen. Death by sea monster while three hundred miles inland was not the way I wanted to go.

Another tentacle whipped out, this time aiming for my throat. I lashed out with my feet, doing everything I could to kick it away. The squeeze around my waist was bad enough but if the worm latched onto my neck it would be adios muchachos. My feet flailed, jabbing at the slimy thing. I managed to keep my body clear of it but that enraged the thing even more.

There was a strange, high-pitched noise. I didn’t speak sea monster but I guessed it was something along the lines of ‘screw you’.

Abandoning me for the time being, the lashing tentacle snaked towards Jamie’s squirming body instead, wrapping itself round his legs and starting to drag him out of my line of sight and towards the window. Panicking, I stretched up to grab the light fitting in the ceiling so I could turn and get a better look. My fingers just managed to curl round the hanging wire so I could spin round. I could already feel the electric cord stretching – it would break in seconds. I had enough time, however, to see what the stoor worm actually was.

Jamie said this was a mere baby; I dreaded to think what the fully grown version looked like. Half of its body hung out of the open window. The other half was a monstrous size, filling the room. I counted six tentacles – but they weren’t what really bothered me. It was the gaping mouth lined with sharp yellow teeth and the vast, dark, sightless eyes which struck terror in my heart. We had no chance.

I swung my legs back and forth, trying to gain some momentum. The worm responded by squeezing harder until my breath was coming in gasps and I felt as if my intestines were about to rise up through my gullet. The pain grew more intense and I was afraid I was going to black out. I forced myself alert. Once I had built up enough energy, I dived down and grabbed one of Jamie’s white-knuckled hands. His head rose and he stared at me in stark fear.

‘Hang on,’ I grunted, adjusting my grip so I wouldn’t lose him. Then I swung back, yanking hard.

Like a toy caught between two toddlers, Jamie’s body was now being pulled in both directions. His mouth opened in a silent scream. The stoor worm let out a strange whine again and loosened its hold slightly. Jamie was no longer being pulled in the direction of its cavernous mouth but it wouldn’t be long before it happened again.

I cast around. There had to be something here I could use as a weapon. Bob’s knife – scimitar – was on the floor but it was well out of reach. If I could grab one of the pillows on the hard bed I could smack the stoor worm round the head – but unless the worm was allergic to feathers, that wasn’t going to help.

Growing more and more angry, the stoor worm threw out another tentacle. It smashed against the side of my head, making my senses reel. There was no way out of this, not without asking for help.

‘What do we do?’ Jamie shrieked.

‘The scimitar,’ I gasped. ‘Throw me the sodding scimitar.’ I couldn’t reach it from up here in the air but if Jamie could grab it I could summon Bob. Yes, there would be dangerous consequences but the alternative right now was either being squashed to death or chomped on.