“Trent!” I shouted, hearing it as if through a pillow. “Trent!”

“Here!”

I shook the wet hair from my eyes and turned. Relief went through me. It was dark, but through the floating ice and wood, I saw Trent. His hair was plastered against him, but he looked unhurt. Shivering, I kicked off the one heel that I still had on and started toward him. Bits of boat were making the odd splash. How could it still be falling? I wondered. There was enough flotsam between us to build two boats.

Trent started forward with a professional looking stroke. Apparently he had learned to swim. The glimmer of fire on the icy water brightened around us. Looking up, I gasped. Something big and burning had yet to come down.

“Trent!” I shouted, but he didn’t hear me. “Trent, look out!” I screamed, pointing. But he wasn’t listening. I dove, trying to escape.

I was flung as if smacked. The water around me turned red. I lost most of the air from my lungs when something hit me, bruising my back. The water saved me, though, and with my lungs aching and my eyes smarting, I followed my exhaled breath to the surface.

“Trent!” I called as I emerged from the icy water and into the burning cold of the night. I found him holding a cushion that was rapidly filling with water. His eyes met mine, unfocused. The light from the burning boat was dimming, and I swam for him. The dock was gone. I didn’t know how we were going to get out of there.

“Trent,” I said, coughing when I reached him. My ears were ringing, but I could hear myself. I spit the hair out of my mouth. “Are you okay?”

He blinked as if trying to focus. Blood seeped from under his hairline, making a brown streak in his fair hair. His eyes closed, and I watched in horror when his grip on the cushion went slack. “No, you don’t,” I said, reaching out before he could slip under.

Shivering, I wrapped an arm about his neck, tucking his chin against the inside of my elbow. He was breathing. My legs were going slow from the cold and my toes were cramping. I looked for help. Where in hell was the I.S.? Someone must have seen that explosion.

“Never around when you need them,” I muttered, shoving a chunk of ice as large as a chair out of my way. “Probably out giving someone a ticket for selling expired charms.” The dock was gone. I had to get us out of the water, but the break wall was three feet of concrete. The only way out was to get back onto the ice and walk to another dock.

A sound of desperation came from me as I struck out for the edge of the hole the blast had ripped in the ice. I’d never make it even with the slow current. The water was starting to creep higher up me, and my movements were slower and harder to make. I wasn’t cold anymore, either, and that scared the hell out of me. I could probably make it … if I weren’t dragging Trent.