CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Wendy

A seagull's cry pierces the air, and I jerk awake. Gray morning light and fog surround the boat, and next to me, Alec snores lightly in his sleep.

My heart racing, I look all around us. When did I fall asleep? The last thing I remember, Alec and I were looking at the stars. It was so peaceful; I must have just blinked into unconsciousness.

And forgotten to put the anchor down.

Which means we've been drifting all night.

Terror closes its cold fingers around my throat. How far have we gone? Are we miles out into the sea?

"No, no, no." I clutch the edges of the boat, but I can't see more than a few yards through this fog. "Alec." I shake him. "Wake up."

Alec stirs, groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's going on?" he mumbles, squinting against the gray light.

"We're adrift," I say, my voice trembling. "We forgot to put the anchor down last night."

Alec's eyes widen in alarm. "How far out are we?"

"I don't know," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "We coul