The Teeth in the Tide

by Rebecca F. Kenney

  Her voice caught, tripping over a sob. Flay reached out and drew her close—she ached at the one-handed pressure of his embrace.

  “I love you.” His tone thickened with emotion. “And because I love you, I will relinquish my right to keep you safe. I would protect you with my life, but I’ll yield to your will, Blossom.” His voice broke then, cracking into a whisper. “If you even want me now that I’m not whole.”

  She drew back, horrified. “Flay. I will always want you. It doesn’t matter what parts you lose—you’re are still perfectly yourself. And you’re mine.”

  A flicker in his gaze, and a curve of his lips. “I can think of one part you definitely wouldn’t want me to lose.”

  “You men. Always so proud of your—apparatus.”

  “I have reason to be proud, and you know it. If you’ve forgotten, I’d be happy to prove it, here and now.”

  She flushed. “Bold talk, captain. But you need rest.”

  “First—” He cupped the back of her neck with his hand and kissed her, slow and soft, with an unbearable sweetness that melted her bones. She swayed against him, and he hissed with pain as she brushed the bandaged stump.

  “I’m sorry.” She adjusted her body and kissed him again to erase the pain. “Come, Captain. Let’s get you to the inn.”

  Kestra had expected Rake and the physik to be in the common room already, but they were nowhere to be seen. Instead, council members and villagers huddled around tables, talking quietly and playing cards, while a few children scuttled between the chairs, oblivious to the chiding voices of their parents. Judging from the bundles and chests scattered around, the inn was a place of refuge for families fleeing the lower sections of town.

  When Flay entered with his sling and stump, the chatter ceased, and a gasp raced from mouth to mouth around the room. Cawl, the owner of the place, hustled the captain to a cushioned bench and ordered Enree to bring him the strongest drink in the house. Flay leaned back, telling the tale in his best style—but he left himself in the background of the story, emphasizing Kestra’s bravery and Rake’s strength.

  “And the great monster has come?” asked Leader Chiren. “Our man on lookout saw your ship arrive, and through his spyglass he saw something else in the distance—he wasn’t sure of its form.”

  “Yes, the monster is here. Even now it devours the swarms of mermaids in your waters.”

  A cheer rose from the villagers, but Flay raised his good hand. “Don’t go back to your homes yet,” he said. “The beast will prowl nearer the coastline before this is over, and we’re not sure where it will come to rest after it has eaten its fill. Were the other towns warned in time?”

  “Yes,” said Chiren. “Some of the other leaders were angry that they were not consulted, but we told them the deed was already done.” He frowned as he spoke, and Kestra remembered that the Wind’s Favor had left port without permission. Their departure seemed so long ago.

  “We had no choice,” she said. “Captain Flay and his men couldn’t wait on your approval. Even now, they risk much by running late on their route.”

  Chiren raised his eyebrows, but he only bowed his head in assent. The respectful act sent a little thrill through Kestra’s heart. In name, she might still be just a cook and a gardener, Lumina’s daughter, the serving girl at The Three Cherries; but in reality, she had raised herself to a position of greater importance. Of respect.

  She caught Flay’s knowing grin and couldn’t help smiling in response. Flay, so perceptive. He knew she was proud of this moment. He knew she felt seen, and he rejoiced in the fact with her.

  But he had been the first to really see her.

  Her eyes passed over the excited crowd, coming to rest on her mother, standing with Mai, Takajo, and Jewel near the kitchen doorway. Kestra made her way toward them.

  “You’re safe.” Her mother bit out the words through tense lips.

  “Yes.” Kestra hesitated, then wrapped her in a hug. “Thanks to Flay, and Rake, and Jazadri. None of us could have done it alone. But together, we made it home.”

  Her mother stiffened, but then she relented, arms slipping around Kestra’s shoulders. “I almost forgive you for leaving without my consent.”

  Mai squeezed Kestra from behind. “And I almost forgive you for leaving me behind.”

  “Me too,” piped Jewel, worming his way into the embrace. Kestra glanced at her mother’s face, but Lumina didn’t recoil from the boy. Instead, she smiled and ruffled his curls. Kestra forced down a delighted grin. Apparently the little monster could be as charming as the tall one.

  “Where’s my father?” Jewel asked, looking up with his large gold-flecked eyes.

  “Yes, where are Rake and the physik?” Kestra echoed. “They should have arrived before us.”

  Takajo shook his head. “They did not.”

  “Wait.” Mai peered into a shadowed corner of the common room. “Isn’t that Flay’s physik, over there?”

  Kestra followed her pointing finger to a hunched shape in a cloak. “It is.” She frowned. “But where is Rake?”

  Dread quickened her heartbeat as she walked toward the man. He looked up, and she saw hate and guilt mingled in his eyes.

  “Where is Rake?” Kestra demanded.

  The physik muttered something unintelligible, clutching his mug.

  “Speak, healer,” said Takajo’s voice from behind Kestra. “Where is he?”

  “I only told him the truth,” the healer mumbled. “He isn’t wanted here. He isn’t one of us—he’s dangerous. A killer, an eater of flesh.” The room quieted as he spoke, and Kestra heard Flay’s bench creak as he rose.

  “His kind maimed the captain,” said the physik, pointing to Flay. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the creature told his queen mermaid to follow us. No doubt he wanted all of you dead, bringing that giant beast to eat everything and to break down the walls. He’s evil—a menace. ‘Go die with your foul seed,’ I told him. And he left.”

  “Oh, no,” breathed Kestra.

  Flay stormed past her. His right hand closed around the physik’s throat, and he shoved the skinny man against the wall so hard that the windows rattled. “How dare you spoil our victory with your hate?”

  “Flay, I have to go after him!” Kestra said. “Before—before he—”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Go!”

  Kestra raced out of the inn, down the street. The small pack with her belongings bounced uncomfortably against her back; she’d forgotten to leave it behind. Her legs flew so fast she feared she might not be able to stop at the bottom of the hill; but she couldn’t bear to slow her pace. Pounding over the cobbles, she turned the corner near the salt refinery, heading by instinct for that spot—the place where she first saw Rake. The place where her father fell.

  As it came into view, her heart nearly burst with mingled relief and panic.

  Rake stood atop the wall, his legs apart. A thin streak of sunlight escaped the heavy clouds, catching the metal of his belt and turning it to bright fire. With his dark blue hair flowing and his pale shirt billowing in the eddies of the wind, he looked like a king. Like a hero.

  A buzz of alarm raced over Kestra’s skin—terror at the sight of him standing so perilously on the wall’s edge.

  “Rake, come down!” she called.

  He turned, the savage beauty of his face stealing her breath for a second. Then he leaped down to the cobblestones.

  “I thought you were gone,” she said, clutching her heaving chest. “The physik told us what he said to you—Flay nearly choked him to death.”

  “No,” he said, smiling sadly. “I’m not gone. I was watching. My eyes aren’t as good as a sea-hawk’s, but they’re better than a human’s, and I think I saw something rise from the sea and join with Them.”

  “You think it was your memory monster? The one from the Bone Trench?”

  He nodded. “I hope so. It’s the reason They came, after all—to rejoin with Their own. And now—look.” He pointed at the dark
, heaving bulk in the sea. “They’re coming this way. Soon They will reach the Court.”

  She moved in beside him, fingers brushing the rough stone of the wall. Stones that her father used to repair, perhaps stones that he placed himself. What would he think if he saw her standing here, beside a vicious creature of the sea? She imagined him frowning, accusing, his face a mask of angry betrayal.

  No.

  That wasn’t her father at all. He would have smiled, would have laughed at the irony. “The brave monster and my clever daughter, saving the whole island.”

  He would have been proud of her.

  More importantly, she was proud of herself. No longer was she the girl who flinched at the sight of mermaid scales, or who tore up garden beds in her impotent rage. She had killed mermaids with her own hands. Sailed in search of a sea monster. Become part of something that, though larger than herself, would never have succeeded without her.

  Avenging her father was satisfying, but the freedom opening up before her tasted infinitely sweeter. It blazed brighter than the sun, illuminating horizons she’d never thought possible.

  And in that light, the dark fury in her soul faded, paling to a mere ghost of itself.

  She closed her eyes and felt it winnow away on the wind.

  -26-

  Rake

  Rake took a moment to gaze at Kestra, at the black hair washed back from her face by the breeze. Those smooth cheeks, arched brows, rings of dark lashes. That plump, perfect mouth. Her beautiful shape, curves swelling through the light shirt and dark pants she wore.

  He looked, refusing to let guilt gnaw at his pleasure. He owed himself a final indulgence, after all.

  Then he spoke softly. “Would you lend me your knife? The sheath too.”

  Kestra glanced at him, surprise in her eyes, but she bent, unbuckled the strap from her ankle, and handed the knife and sheath to him. The unspoken trust of that act fed his courage.

  “Why do you need it?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer, but began clumsily wrapping the strap around his upper arm.

  “Let me.” Kestra adjusted the strap and buckled it, securing the flap over the hilt. “If you’re going to steal my weapon, at least tell me why.”

  “Calla and Bruta are as smart as they are cruel. They have to die along with the others. If they survive, this will all begin again.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And they won’t die,” he said grimly. “They’ll hide, and I think I know where.”

  He watched as understanding broke over her face. “Rake, no! They’ll kill you!”

  “I’m ready for this,” he said. “It’s what I was born to do. My purpose.” He slipped off the ancient belt and pushed it into her hands as his lower half resolved into gleaming golden scales. Kestra stared at the belt, then slowly stowed it in her bag, never taking her eyes from him.

  Stiffening his tail and leaning on one arm, Rake balanced by the wall, drinking in the sight of her—rose-colored spots of alarm in her cheeks, lips parted helplessly.

  “Rake,” she choked.

  No goodbyes, he thought. Or I will break.

  He tried to smile at her. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  “Rake, wait—”

  He flung himself backward off the wall, twisted around as he fell, and slit the water with both hands, plunging deep beneath the surface. The merlows were in a frenzy, riled by new smells and sounds, tossed in the unpredictable currents caused by the movements of the massive creature. At the first screech from him, their swarm shattered and they disappeared into the dark water.

  As he raced toward the Court and the tunnels beneath it, he scolded himself for coming unprepared. He had nothing. Nothing but Kestra’s knife strapped to his left arm. The Queens were not warriors themselves, but they would be protected by mermidons with weapons and training. How could he hope to withstand them?

  The ocean floor looked different—dents and valleys where there should have been neat channels and a smooth sea floor. And then he realized that the tumbled stones, reef, and debris up ahead were the remains of the Court. Pillars lay on their sides, broken into chunks. Between two smashed columns, he saw tails and arms writhing weakly—mermaids pinioned and dying. Pieces of tail fin, chunks of torso, and skulls with swirling hair floated before him, suspended in a constellation of death.

  I did this.

  He’d feared he might feel regret, or repentance. Instead he felt violently ecstatic. Like a glorious avenger, not only of humans but of all those among his people who were deemed useless and eaten. He was the reckoning of all those who tore apart living creatures for sport, who tortured and beat them, or who laughed while others performed the torture and the beating.

  I did this.

  A piece of glittering tentacle floated past him, and he ducked away from it just in time, before it brushed his skin. He wondered which of the creatures had lost it—his monster from the Bone Trench, or one of its counterparts?

  On impulse, he whipped his knife from its sheath and swept it over the gleaming tentacle, again and again, on the off chance that some of the paralytic toxin might cling to the blade. Re-sheathing the weapon, he dove for the spot where his secret opening used to be, his gateway into the lower regions of the Court. It was hopelessly crumbled, so he swam to the main entrance of the tunnels instead.

  And there, her arm pinned under a slab of rock, lay Bruta. Calla was trying to lift the rock, but it was enormous; and as Rake watched, she gave up and bent over Bruta, jaws wide. He heard the crunch as she bit into Bruta’s shoulder, the horrible cracking as she tore the bone from its socket and cut loose the remaining flesh holding the arm to its owner. Bruta shrieked, and the last two mermidons hovering nearby twitched in terror and shot away into the watery shadows.

  Roaring in pain, Bruta jerked herself free, her mangled shoulder trailing tendons and gushing blood into the water, what was left of her arm still stuck under the rock. Calla wrenched a mouthful of flesh from her fellow Queen’s severed arm and straightened in the water, chewing, blood spiraling from her lips. Then her golden eyes fixed on Rake.

  Bruta saw him too. “Traitor!” she gulped, and feebly clawed toward him. But her eyes slid out of focus and she tumbled over, her body bouncing loosely against the ocean floor.

  But Calla was whole, red-haired and defiant, bloody fangs bared at him.

  “Traitor!” she echoed. “Destroyer. Is this how you repay me for my favor?”

  “Your favor?” Rake laughed. “My wounds, my pain, the threats on my life, the words that cut my heart to ribbons—those are the marks of your favor?”

  “I gave you things,” she said. “Baubles. Your spawn.”

  “Our spawn.” He challenged her with his eyes, but she didn’t show any emotion. Those filmy lids of hers flicked sideways over her eyes and back again.

  Rake swept toward her, palms out and open. “Calla,” he said, and she growled, because he wasn’t allowed to use her name, not without copious flattery and honorifics. “Calla, you spared my life when I was young. I owed you my loyalty. I would have been yours entirely, would have loved you beyond reason, if you had let me.” He brought his body close to hers, laid one hand against her cheek. Her lips curled, but she did not move. “Instead of loving me, you broke me. Beat me. Tore me apart inside.”

  In one quick movement he whipped the knife from its sheath and sank it between her ribs.

  She screamed with rage and pain, but her face changed almost instantly, slackening as the paralytic venom took effect. Her hands scrabbled feebly for his throat, but he seized her wrists and held her claws away from his body. “You are no queen. You are a selfish, consuming monster, a killer, an eater of souls. And now, you will be eaten yourself.”

  He thrust the knife back into its sheath, gripped the half-paralyzed Calla firmly around the waist, and seized Bruta’s wrist with his other hand. It took all his strength to tow them upward, higher, and higher still, until they broke the surface.

  Quick
ly he scanned the rolling sea, searching for the monster. And there it was, far away, a mound of stony armor and whipping tentacles, slogging through the shallower sea by the wall, where the merlows used to swarm.

  “Come, my queens,” he said. “Let us greet our guest.”

  His heart thundered as he swam, whipping his tail furiously, arching his body, thrusting ahead through the foam. He was tiring quickly, weary of towing the two limp mermaids, burning with the desire to see them end and shrieking inside with the terror of what waited for him at the end of this last long swim.

  Jewel would live. Jewel would be happy. That was all that mattered. And the youngest of the mermaids’ spawn would be safe—the monster had agreed to spare the nurseries as much as possible. The spawn who survived would be a new beginning. They could be taught to respect human life, not to breed so indiscriminately, not to consume all the resources of the bountiful ocean. He had hoped he might do some of the teaching himself, but seeing the Queens to their death was more important. They were the emblem, the cause, the perpetuation of his race’s twisted life cycle.

  On he struggled, each violent surge of his body bringing him closer to the wall, and to the beast.

  No more deep thoughts now, no more plans. Only rapid breathing, and the flex of muscle and bone, and the distance shrinking.

  Calla’s limbs shuddered.

  The toxin was wearing off.

  A flare of panic drove Rake forward again, into the swirling maelstrom around the creature—or creatures. He could hear Their voices now, an incessant, innumerable chattering in his mind, strands of thought indistinguishable from each other and yet somehow cohesive, forming a single chorus of intent—Consume. Consume. And he felt the acknowledgement of a gap in the intended swath of destruction—an untouchable zone where the nurseries were, identified from his own memories and passed through the great mass of brains and bodies that formed the monster.