Fiona felt the wind knocked out of her. Not Thomas. She shot a glance at the scholar, who stared back at the Picaroons with a steely resolve in his eyes.
Estelle growled, “He’s not a philosopher. He doesn’t even know magic.”
The larger one—Lir—glared at Estelle, eyes sparking with a blue light. “I don’t care who he is. He’s the strongest one here, apart from the fire demon.” He glanced at Tobias. “But Dagon can’t take his polluted soul. He’s already given it away.”
Fiona should be the one to go. Thomas couldn’t die—he probably still had family in London, awaiting his return. What did she have? Her mom was dead, and she was living in a dog kennel among people her father had tortured. She’d end up with a knife in her back one of these nights, and she couldn’t leave this hellhole without being burned to death by witch hunters.
Her knees nearly gave way when she stepped forward. “I’ll go. I’ll be your tribute.”
“Fiona, what are you doing?” Tobias shouted.
“Don’t be daft,” said Thomas. “They chose me. They’re looking for strength.”
“Not her,” said Lir.
Granite licked the corner of his mouth, almost smiling. “And why would we want you instead of the stronger one?”
She swallowed, all eyes on her.
The gold. She slipped the backpack off her shoulders, reaching in to yank out a handful of gold pieces. “I’ll pay you.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Tobias’s voice rumbled through the air, deep and resonant. When she turned to him, his eyes blazed red.
From the center of the banquet, Thomas held his hands out to either side, trying to calm everyone down. Candlelight licked his face. “Let’s all stay calm. They’re not taking Fiona.”
By his side, Celia stood with her hand clamped over her mouth in horror.
Only Estelle seemed pleased. She cocked her head, a small smile softening her features. “It’s perfect. It will give her the chance to atone for her father’s crimes.”
“A criminal’s daughter?” Granite arched an approving eyebrow. “Sounds like our sort of girl.”
“You’ve got to be joking, Nod,” said his brother. He spoke with the same rough voice, minus the smile. “She won’t last a night. We’re not taking her. We’re taking the stag.”
Apparently, the younger Picaroon didn’t think Fiona good enough tribute for his sea monster. She already hated him.
Clutching the gold nuggets tighter, she gritted her teeth. She’d made up her mind. She didn’t want them to take Thomas, and maybe this was some kind of way out. Hadn’t Cadonia said one or two tributes had lived?
“I’m perfectly strong,” she said. “And I’ll give you gold. Isn’t that what pirates want?”
The one called Lir stared at her, his face a mask of disdain. “What sort of maniac would pay money to come with us?”
One who needs to atone. One who belongs among other monsters. One who’s broken inside, and might kill everyone in their sleep if she’s not stopped. Fiona lifted her shoulders. “Dogtown is boring, and I’m looking for some adventure. That’s all.”
The younger pirate prowled toward her, looking her up and down like he was sizing up a farm animal. She stiffened, half expecting him to jab his fingers in her mouth to judge the condition of her teeth. “Look at her,” he grumbled. “The others will eat her alive.”
She had no idea what “others” they were talking about. Were they also children of serial killers? If not, they should be scared of her.
Nod ran his hand over his beard. “You’ve given your opinion, Lir. But we’re taking her. She’s our Dogtown tribute.”
“I’ll go,” said Thomas frantically. “You chose me.”
“You’re not taking her,” shouted Tobias. Within a moment he was crouching on the table, and the lantern candles blazed higher. In their flickering light, his face looked more demonic than human.
Rage suddenly blazed through Fiona. “It’s not your decision, Tobias! You chose to throw away your life when you were out of options. Who are you to tell me I can’t do the same thing?”
Estelle bared her teeth. “She’s made her choice.” She threw back her head, bones cracking as she transformed into an enormous, golden wolf. Leaping onto the table, she snarled at Tobias.
Dishes smashed as the rest of her pack followed. The Queen had made her call. Fiona would be the tribute, unless Tobias wanted to light the whole town on fire.
Hundreds of growling wolves closed in on him, circling her friends.
The Picaroon, Nod, smacked his hands together, looking Fiona over with a grin. “Well, that’s settled. We’re taking the criminal’s daughter.”
Fiona jammed the gold back into her bag and strode over to the Picaroons before anyone—herself included—could change their mind.
13
Celia
Celia watched in stunned silence as her best friend followed the monsters into the forest. Her breath came fast and hard. She wanted to scream. Fiona was walking to her death. No one would go after her unless they wanted to fight through the wolves.
“Can’t we do something?” Hot tears stung Celia’s eyes as she looked to the snarling wolves that encircled her, turning at last to Oswald. “Can’t you do your rage-killing thing and stop them? Can’t Tobias light everyone on fire?”
He watched Fiona walk away. “And here I thought you had a moral problem with massacres.”
Jerk. “You don’t even care what’s happening to Fiona.”
“Noways caring will aid her now.”
Celia brushed a tear off her face as the werewolves finally backed off. Fiona was gone—disappeared into the mists with the monsters.
What the hell was she thinking? True, her mother had just been murdered. But Celia had seen her own mother’s head lopped off in a public square, and she hadn’t lost her mind over it. Sure, she was angry. But sacrificing herself to Dagon was a crappy way for Fiona to get revenge on her mother’s killers.
Celia slumped in a chair, her appetite gone. So maybe Fiona was trying to be a hero and save Thomas, but why did she have to offer herself as tribute? Why not pay the pirates to take Estelle? They obviously liked gold. At least the wolf queen would have a fighting chance, and surely no one would miss her.
Atop her table, Estelle pulled off her antlers, a smile brightening her face. Things had worked out well for Dogtown’s leader. She’d protected her pack, and gotten rid of her nemesis at the same time. The Queen placed her hands on her hips, staring at the harbor. “Well. That’s over. Cornelius and a few others are working to raise the veil again. Luckily for us, no other intruders have come through. The rest of you, drink and enjoy yourselves. I’m going to make sure our bat friend is boarding the ship.” She hopped off the table, springing into her wolf form.
Celia felt sick, and she looked to Tobias for help. His body was rigid; she could tell he was fighting the impulse to run after Fiona.
The wolves of Dogtown had shifted back into their human bodies, none overly concerned with Fiona’s kidnapping. Just another day in Dogtown, losing a seventeen-year-old girl to the pirates. Her hands shaking, Celia reached for the ladle in a bowl of dire drink, filling her rough wooden cup to the brim. A little oblivion was in order.
She was beginning to see a pattern in things. And the pattern was that everything good had to die. She emptied the cup in one long slug, and it burned her throat going down.
When she was Queen of Maremount, she would keep her friends close, safe in the fortress walls. She’d imagined Fiona there with her, but that idea was just shot to hell. She refilled her drink, fighting back tears. Being powerless was infuriating. She drained another cup.
Wiping a trembling hand across her mouth, her mind flashed with visions of blood. Blood on the cobblestones, blood staining the ocean crimson. Somewhere nearby, Tobias was arguing with Alan and Thomas, but she tuned them out. Just more talk. If Tobias wanted to get Fiona back, he’d have to fight a whole ship of sea demons. Those we
ren’t good odds, even for him.
Only Oswald remained by her side. He shot her a sharp look. “You’ll be fuddled as a rat if you keep emptying your cup like that.”
“Who cares?” She filled her cup again.
She could remember the pictures of Dagon in children’s books. Tall and thin, almost human, but with long, clawlike fingers. Tentacles swirled from his head, and sharp, pointed teeth crowded his mouth, plus a long tongue. Sometimes he appeared as a woman, covered in sea foam and barnacles, but with eyes like a murky abyss.
Something brushed her shoulder, and she jumped. It was Thomas, trying to call her attention. “Cadonia told me there might be some sort of trial. If Fiona can defeat it, she has a chance. The werewolves have seen it in Estelle’s cauldron. At least one person from Dogtown has survived.”
Her head swimming, Celia gripped the edge of the chair. “At least one? That’s it? So, she’s probably going to die. And we’re all just going to sit back and let it happen.”
Thomas sighed. “We have no choice. If it were possible to fight the Picaroons, the werewolves would have done it long ago.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea how many people are trying to kill us now? Just because we’ve found respite here, doesn’t mean we’re safe. You know that, right?”
She felt the ground wobbling beneath her, but she rose, pushing past Thomas to find Mariana. Mariana had been recovering, slowly regaining her strength, but didn’t quite seem herself. Even so, she needed to know what had just happened.
Cold wind kissed Celia’s arms as she staggered over the common, trying to steady her footing on the rocky path. Fiona, you idiot. What were you thinking?
She cursed her own lack of power. A Throcknell princess should know magic well enough to make a whole ship of Picaroons tremble. An heir to the Maremount throne should have gotten the best education Sortellian College had to offer. If she hadn’t been deprived of her rightful inheritance, she probably could have struck the four sea demons dead on the spot.
Unless Fiona wanted to go with them. Celia’s mind raced, trying to pick apart her friend’s insane behavior.
A soft touch on her arm nearly made her jump out of her skin. Whirling, she knocked into Oswald. “What are you doing here?”
“The Picaroons have lowered the veil. If any of the Throcknells’ men are still around, they’ll fly usward. Do you think it’s wise to stagger around in the dark by yourself, beer-sick, when half the world wants us dead?”
“What? Who cares? Do you think it’s ‘wise’ to sacrifice yourself to a sea god? Do you think it was ‘wise’ to murder Asmodeus and bring down the full force of the Throcknell empire on us? Do you think it—”
Oswald stepped closer, his gaze drilling into her. “I didn’t have an awful lot of choice, Princess. If you’ll recall, the man wanted to skin me.”
Celia’s nostrils flared. She wasn’t sure why she was yelling at Oswald for killing the Theurgeon. It wasn’t like he’d been given much of a choice. But something about the Tatter got under her skin. “Did you interrupt your dinner to lecture me? And why are you still here, anyway? I thought you were desperate to return to Maremount.”
“As you pointed out, the entire kingdom is prowling for me. And as for now, I was just going to escort you.”
“Escort me where?” she asked, indignant.
“Whither you’re ambling.”
“Oh.” Suddenly she felt stupid for railing at him. She began walking again, beside him, but the ground still didn’t feel quite steady. God, she was tired. She was half tempted to lie down in the grass and sleep. “Well, thanks. That’s actually nice of you. I guess.”
“Well, as you’ve drunk yourself stupid—”
“Don’t ruin it.”
They walked over the jagged path that wove between dark, crooked houses. Apart from Mariana and the woman looking after her, everyone else was in town, probably gossiping about Fiona over their stew.
Oswald gazed up at the starry sky, shivering. “Where are you wandering to? This isn’t homeward.”
“Foxglove Manor. I want to see Mariana. She’s been stuck in that house with no one but the hairspray lady. And she needs to know what happened to Fiona.”
“Is she improving?”
“She’s moving around a bit, but doesn’t want to leave her room. All of a sudden she has a fear of bugs she never had before, so she can’t go outside. She doesn’t want to be around men, but she won’t tell me what happened in Virginia.”
They strolled up to a dark wooden house, its windows glowing with amber light. “Can’t blame her for avoiding men,” said Oswald. “We’re grisly beasts. I’ll wait without.”
“Oswald.” She glanced into his cool gray eyes. “Thanks.”
He nodded, and Celia knocked on the gnarled wooden door. After a few moments, an olive-skinned woman answered it. The woman’s hair was a masterpiece, a towering black beehive held together with sheer determination. That, and absurd amounts of hairspray. A chemical reek wafted off her. Maybe the magazines in Dogtown were a little out of date. Like, sixty years out of date.
“Hello. I came to visit Mariana.”
A burning cigarette dangled from the woman’s mouth, and she stood before a dark stairwell in a bare-walled hallway. “Did you bring any?”
Crap. Of course she should have. “The Picaroons came. I didn’t think to bring food.”
She narrowed her eyes and grunted, “Sea demons.”
“They took our friend.”
A long drag. “Your friend. Not one of ours.”
Celia could feel herself losing patience. “Right. Can I see Mariana now?”
The woman thrust a hot mug of what smelled like herbal tea into Celia’s hands. “Bring this to her. It will help her bad dreams.”
Celia gripped the cup and walked up the narrow stairwell. Upstairs, the floorboards creaked as she trod the length of the hall. At the end, she pushed open a door to a cramped room warmly lit by a lantern. Mariana stood in the shadows, her dark hair hanging lank over a white nightgown. She was staring at a wall.
Celia tightened her hands around the mug. “Mariana?”
Mariana whirled, her eyes wide. “Get away.”
Her pulse raced at her friend’s reaction. “It’s me—Celia.”
Mariana grimaced. “I know that.” Deep circles darkened the skin below her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Celia set the hot mug on a walnut table.
“Just don’t sneak up on me.”
Her head was too woozy for subtlety. “You seem kind of messed up. Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you in the Purgator prison?”
“It’s not a secret. It’s just—” A look of confusion crossed Mariana’s features. “There was a small box.” Hunching her shoulders, she chewed a fingernail. “I don’t think this is a good idea. We just need to forget about it. It’s over. When is Fiona coming to see me again?”
Maybe this wasn’t the time to tell her about Fiona. But Mariana would never forgive her for keeping this secret. Celia inhaled sharply. Just get it out. “She might not be coming back.”
A dark look crossed Mariana’s face. “What are you talking about?”
“The Purgators took her as tribute. For their ship.” She left out the part about Fiona volunteering.
“They took her?” Mariana gripped her chest. “Where are they taking her?”
Celia rubbed her forehead, trying to clear her thoughts. “To a ship. Thomas said there’s a chance she could live, if she passes a trial.”
Mariana’s breath grew ragged, and she rushed past Celia, thundering down the stairs. Following, Celia hurried down the steps, rushing out the front door after her friend.
Outside, Mariana was rambling. “They took her, and she’s not safe. They’ll hold her head underwater. Those spiders are not safe. I know the venomous ones—”
Oswald stepped closer, steadily holding out his hands like he was calming a wild animal. “You’re here with us, Mariana. Breathe.
”
“They can’t be trusted.” Her whole body trembled. “They’ll shove her head under the water so she can’t breathe, and the water will fill her lungs. There are seven different kinds of hell, and they all destroy your mind.”
Celia’s stomach turned. She’d never seen her friend like this.
Keeping his gaze steady, Oswald inched closer. “You’re here, Mariana. Your feet are on the grass. Look down. Grass and rocks. You’re outside. You have all the air you need, and your feet are here on the earth, and they will take you wherever you want to go.”
Mariana’s breath came hard and fast. “What?”
“Your lungs have air, and the ground is solid beneath your feet. You are in control. Breathe.”
Mariana stared, confused for a moment, before taking a long breath. She glanced down at her feet, and her shoulders slumped.
Tentatively, Celia approached. She shouldn’t have told Mariana. Not until she’d recovered. “I’m sorry. I’ll stay with you tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
Mariana’s eyes brimmed with tears, and she gasped for air. “Thanks.” She wiped a hand across her cheek and turned to walk back into the house.
Celia stared at Oswald. “How did you know what to say to her?”
He looked away. “She was lost. It helps to know where your feet are and that you’re in control of something.”
“Is that how you feel—sometimes—after the Iron Tower?”
His face hardened. “You needn’t fret over that. Why don’t you worry about how you’re going to protect yourself.” The coldness had returned to his voice, and he stalked off into the shadows.
14
Fiona
A cloud of fog had settled in the harbor, and the only thing Fiona could see was a faint yellow glow from the lighthouse on Ten Pound Island. The sound of the foghorn hung in the air like a dirge.
She hated the ocean, but something about the fog was alluring, like she could become enveloped in the mists and drift away from her life—escape from the hollowness inside.
Witches of the Deep (The Memento Mori Witch Trilogy Book 3) Page 6
