Water closed over Camille's head. Cold. So cold it burned her skin. She kicked toward the surface, arms flailing, lungs screaming for air. But something held her down, hands gripping her ankles, dragging her deeper into the darkness.

She looked down. Rose stared back at her, grinning, her hair floating around her face like seaweed. Beside her, Herod Preston, his eyes flat and lifeless as a shark's. They pulled harder. The pressure in Camille's chest built to ...