7
Wings and fire. Wings and fire were all I saw.
The morass was burning, its lazy ripples evaporating as embers licked the surface, scorching those desperate enough to try and reach it in the fleeting hope of subduing the dragon with their voice. I clung to my sisters as we swam the other way, our legs kicking in a crazed attempt to touch that divide where a small trickle weaved from the murky body of water—a river, becoming clearer and clearer as it cut a path through the woods. To safety.
Only none of us could see past the blood. We stopped, a tangle of hands and frightened echoes. With our vision obscured, we couldn’t go forward. Couldn’t risk the swim through the ocean of all-encompassing fire unless we wanted it to be our last.
If the absence of water wouldn’t shrivel our bodies, the embers would certainly turn them to dust.
I linked my fingers with Iza’s, but when my hand reached for Angela’s, all I felt was a too warm current pressing against my palm. Lips parted in horror, I glimpsed a flash of her white dress beyond the veil of crimson, the billowing fabric becoming more and more remote as she swam straight up. Higher.
A muffled cry tore from my chest, echoed by Iza’s frightened gasp.
What was she doing? Didn’t she see the motionless, raw bodies illuminated by the sunlight and fire filtering down from above? How could she hope to succeed in what they all had failed?
Tears burned at the back of my eyes, each stray drop whisked away by the morass.
I couldn’t watch. I could stand to see Angela’s body destroyed in such a way…
Yet at the same time, I found myself unable to tear away my gaze from her nimble silhouette. As if by will of some sadistic god, the water cleared a path between us, stripping away the curtain of blood and exposing Angela as if she were standing on a stage. The centerpiece of a grisly performance.
Every detail was a vicious stab into my heart. I saw the water boil around her. I heard her melodic voice twist into an agonizing scream…
She would never be able to reach the magic nestled in her core in time. Not even to utter a single, damning word.
Nobody could escape Mesechyn.
He was death brought on silent wings, finality wrapped in a coat of cinder. The story of his existence slithered on currents that seeped from battlefields like blood from his victims, leaving no Rusalka untouched.
And Angela would be the next to spread the tale, her words written in the purest crimson.
Fire licked at every bit of her exposed skin, her legs kicking franticly at the steaming water. She sought to get away even as her face, her arms, first blistered then darkened into a black so deep I knew she would never recover.
Iza’s hand uncurled from my fingers to wrap around my forearm. She trapped me in an unyielding grip as she tried to pull me away—but all I did was stare as a single white talon pierced Angela’s abdomen, sending ripples of her blood to curve across the water in their lethal, magnetic dance.
“Liana,” Iza screamed, her fingers digging into my skin, “we have to go.”
“Go where?” I mumbled, my voice distant, detached, as if I already weren’t a part of this reality any longer—walking the path to Veles’s realm and leaving the world of substance behind.
Somehow, I managed to escape the ensnaring ripples of crimson and shifted my gaze from Angela’s pierced body to Iza. But instead of their usual warm green, her eyes were a piercing silver-blue.
They ripped me away from the blood-tainted waters, infused my lungs with a sudden, forceful rush of air, and cast me into a dimly lit room.
I gasped, heartbeat frantic as uncertainty of where I was squeezed my insides. But then the smoothness of Santino’s voice washed over my skin, cradling me in the embrace of reality and calmed my harsh breaths.
“Liana, it was a nightmare. Just a nightmare,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me, piccola. You’re safe. But we have to move.”
I blinked past the remnants of the haze, only now realizing Santino was towering over me, one hand braced against the mattress, the other still holding my arm. The spill of his silver curls was disheveled, his mouth pulled into a thin line even as there was nothing but an odd sense of tenderness lingering in the corners of his eyes like half-forgotten whispers.
“What’s happening?”
“We have to leave town for a while, cara.” He sighed. “I spoke with Caz tonight, and it appears the Rusalkas have gone all out in trying to claim your tail. The PI—he isn’t the only one who’s come…”
The countryside rolled past me in a blur of shadows, sporadically interrupted by the flicker of lights that indicated we had passed yet another town. I was sitting in Santino’s Bordeaux red Jaguar convertible, the canvas top rattling softly in tune with the vibrations of the road. We had barely spoken on our dash through Piran to the secure garage where he kept his car, focusing more on not being seen than the actual threat which had led to us fleeing the apartment.
Luckily, Santino had dropped by the boarding house and grabbed a change of clothes for me before his late-night meeting with Caz had sprung our flight in motion. There was something comforting about being dressed in my own garments once more, the outfit compiled of a white short-sleeved top and a knee-length, floral skirt, made of lightweight polyester. I’d learned from my mistake, and had no desire to wait for extensive periods at a time for my clothes to dry—or steal another towel to cover myself up—in case I ended up in the water again.
Although as far as I could tell, we were moving away from the ocean.
I hadn’t seen all that much of the world in my brief human life, and only the older—or more brazen—Rusalkas were allowed to venture beyond the morass, so my knowledge was gravely lacking. But I recognized enough of the landmarks—along with a few signs—to know we had passed into Italy. Something Santino later confirmed himself, although he refrained from speaking more on the subject.
He clearly didn’t like that we were forced to run like some convicts in the dead of night, so I didn’t press him. I simply gazed out the window, taking note of the telling, ever-shifting silhouettes of the shadow-filled landscape. I pieced the little bits of information together until I was certain we were driving somewhere north, headed deeper into the heart of the continent.
While it didn’t guarantee us safety from the Rusalkas, since any body of water served them just the same, I was hoping the sudden change of atmosphere would throw the PI off our tracks at least for a little while. My sisters must have informed him of my affinity for the seaside, and if he wasn’t yet aware of Santino’s aid, he had no reason to come looking for me here.
As the cover of darkness started to wane, I propped myself against the cool glass and glanced at the man behind the wheel.
Santino’s gaze was fixed on the road, his hands relaxed as he steered us down the gentle bends, but I could see his mind working behind the calm facade. The rush of his thoughts was written in the tightness of his jaw, in the way he pursed his lips, so faintly I would have missed it if I hadn’t paid as much attention to him in the past as I had. But most of all, I could feel it rippling from him, the slithers of agitation as he mulled over whatever dreadful news his former partner had delivered.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?” I asked softly, almost hating to break the silence even though I knew I couldn’t stay ignorant for much longer. If something happened…
Santino’s silver-rimmed eyes flashed in my direction, then settled back on the road. “When I asked Caz about the PI, he recognized the stronzo immediately. It appears Milan Kauer,” he spat out the name, “has had more than a couple of run-ins with the force since I’d left. And none of them had been of the cooperative, good-willed nature. They have a file on him for associating with known hitmen, some of whom the bastardo allegedly has on retainer… But nothing that could be backed up by facts.”
“So the shooter from Moon Bay?”
“More than likely one of Kauer’s,” Santino confirmed, his voice dripping
with disdain. “Caz had made it his favorite pastime to bring down Kauer and the filth he surrounds himself with. He fell on Caz’s radar after one of the people the bastardo had been hired to find—by persons unknown, of course—ended up dead. With every bone in his body broken and a bullet hole in the center of his head.”
I shivered, the image of blood called up by Santino’s words mixing with the crimson of my dreams. Firmly, I reminded myself that Caz wasn’t like Mesechyn. That he wasn’t some terrifying tale from history every Rusalka dreaded would become reality once more, but a fire-breathing cop, who worked as hard as he could to rid the world of scum like Kauer. The rational part of me knew I was right, but it was hard to suddenly let go of decades worth of fears. As unfounded as they might have been.
I shifted uncomfortably and pulled one leg up on the edge of the seat, hugging my knee. “So what did Caz say that made you believe we had to leave the country? Who else is after me?”
For a moment, Santino remained silent, nothing but the lights from the gas station we passed playing on his utterly still features. Then a heavy breath uncurled from his chest, and his silver eyes locked on mine.
“The reason Caz was near Piran in the first place is because he was tracking a large group of Kauer’s flunkies after his source reported they noticed some unusual movements on their part.” He shook his head, the heaviness in the air growing. “Cara… They all came for you.”
8
I had known the Rusalkas’ hatred for mermaids was deeply rooted, but even after Moon Bay, I hadn’t considered they would go to such lengths to secure my death. This was more than a hunt. It was personal. As if the mere thought of me alive somewhere in the world was the worst possible crime. I bit back a sob, blinking to dispel the tears that burned in the back of my eyes, then dug my nails into my skin until little half-moons bloomed beneath them.
“How did they even manage to hire Kauer and his men?” I asked, hoping that if I focused on the questions of a more practical, reasonable nature, I wouldn’t crumble under the phantom weight of my sisters’ wrath. “We have no money in the morass, and a Rusalka’s voice can only kill, not compel a person to do her bidding.”
Santino glanced at the rearview mirror then took a right turn off the main road. We entered the line of woods we’d been following for a while now, the treetops swallowing us with only a sliver of the starlit sky still visible above. The forest was beautiful, but not even the placid nature, so lovingly blanketed by night, could calm the maddening rush of my thoughts.
Santino’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he asked, “You said three of you have been affected by the shift, right?”
I nodded.
“The one they were killing when you escaped… Liana, did you actually see her die?”
The memory of Angela shrieking as the Rusalkas swarmed her erupted in my mind. My stomach clenched at the grisly images, at the echoes of her cries… But for once, instead of pushing the horrifying reminiscence away, I tried to take note of every detail.
Even the ones I had locked so deep inside me I believed them to be lost forever.
There was so much blood. More than I’d ever seen. And the undulating vibrations of her screams…
I glimpsed a shredded bit of fluke floating on the currents, the wild mass of Angela’s hair as she fought back in a desperate attempt to twist away from the onslaught of sharp fingernails, clawing at her far more ruthlessly than any dagger ever could. Another burst of blood filled my nostrils and overflowed in my mouth as I inhaled, but by that time, I couldn’t see Angela any longer. I was swimming with every ounce of speed I could muster, straining this new body to its limits as I propelled myself towards the stream that would take me deeper into the encompassing woods.
My heart pounded in my ears, the deafening roar of panic blocking out Angela’s cries—or had it been them that had stopped, leaving nothing but the explosive pulse crashing off the walls of my mind?
But the water… It carried the sickening traces of blood, not—
My surroundings snapped back, the oppressive darkness of the morass shifting into the shadowed comfort of Santino’s car. I gasped as I smelled a faint coppery tang fill the cabin and when I looked down, I saw that I was bleeding.
Four lines of brilliant crimson trickled from the small half-moons I’d made in the palms of my hands, their sting matching the vile, horrid ache in my heart.
“I have tissues in the glove compartment,” Santino offered, watching me not with pity but a kind of silent concern that once again stole away my breath.
It was only when he nudged his head towards the narrow compartment before me that I remembered the warmth that continued to trickle across my upturned palm. Mindful not to smear his car with blood, I wiggled out a tissue with a single hand, then pressed it over the injured skin.
Crimson spread across its white surface like spilled ink, and I breathed past the nausea, past the realization… And, worst of all, guilt.
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t see Angela die.”
I looked out the window to watch the smattering of yellow creep deeper and deeper into the receding night sky, shadows fleeing in its wake. Santino remained perfectly quiet by my side, giving me the time and space I needed.
I sighed. It wasn’t as if he had to utter the words for me to know what this meant.
If the Rusalkas had taken Angela captive, there was nothing keeping them from exploiting her mermaid magic to compel Kauer or his men to hunt me to the end of the world. A mermaid’s spell bound its recipient unequivocally, and could only be broken by his death—or the will of the one who had placed it upon him, once they were face-to-face again.
No, if my sisters had Angela, Kauer wouldn’t stop until he brought them the requested bounty. And neither would his men.
I shuddered, only it wasn’t fear of my own fate that tightened my chest. It was the dread I felt for Angela’s.
Had they already killed her, now that her magic was woven in the essence of Kauer’s being? Or were they still keeping her trapped, locked away somewhere for future use—and their own sadistic enjoyment in-between?
I closed my eyes. Santino was right.
People deserved second chances. It didn’t matter what Angela had done before the change, before the core of our sisterhood deemed her an abomination.
If she still drew breath, I had to get her out.
Dawn had turned into day by the time the Jaguar climbed up a narrow paved road, then slowed as a lovely wooden cabin came into view. I rubbed my eyes, not even knowing when I’d drifted away, but once I looked past the thick veils of trees that blanketed the ground, every muscle in my body grew taut, the remnants of sleep long forgotten.
Santino drove on unaffected, and I couldn’t tell whether he had noticed the sudden change, the suffocating silence now wrapped around me, or was ignoring it.
Somehow, I didn’t know which was worse.
He pulled the car into a small parking lot behind the cabin, and got out without a single word, then walked around the back to hold open my door.
It was such a simple, gentlemanly gesture, yet dread became a leaden weight in my stomach, affecting my limbs to the point where I was unable to breathe, let alone move. Was he playing some twisted joke on me? Or had this been his plan all along? To give me over to the Rusalkas when fear swallowed me whole, containing me better than any bonds ever could?
Gods, how could I have been so naive?
My gaze flickered over to the lake extending beyond the cabin, its surface reflecting the bright rays of sun in a manner that was terrifying and inviting at the same time. A sob slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and I flinched as Santino’s hand came to rest on my shoulder.
I hated how the warmth of his touch seemed to spread through my entire body, hated how much I wanted to lean into it, to turn that fleeting gesture into something more. Even now. I closed my eyes, knowing with frightening certainty that one look at his handsome face would be enough to wreck
me completely and shatter those tethers still holding me in place.
A mermaid, destroyed by the very prey she was destined to lure.
The irony of it fed the ache in my chest, and I bitterly accepted that there was no escaping the thunderous landslide of fate. I’d cheated death for long enough. And it finally came to claim me.
Only Santino didn’t force me out of the car. Instead, his fingers drew gentle, slow circles across my shoulder, then moved lower down my arm in tune with the shift of his body I’d heard over the serene nature.
While I didn’t allow that flicker of hope kindling inside me to grow, I did open my eyes. Santino was crouching by the side of the car, his silver-blue gaze resting on my face and regret hardening his features.
“I apologize, piccola. I should have warned you.” His fingers traveled down my forearm while his other hand cupped my knee. “I was a fool. I hadn’t thought about how it might affect you, seeing the water.”
The lack of a threat in his smooth voice coupled with the abundance of concern softening his tone made me pause. If he wasn’t giving me to the Rusalkas, why would he take me near the one element they all but ruled?
I must have asked as much out loud, because Santino’s lips pulled into an apologetic line, and he gently raised me from the seat, then closed the car door behind me.
“It’s a seepage lake. There are no streams, cara, leading to or from it, no inlet or outlet connecting it to the wider world. I wanted you to have a place where you would be safe, and”—he hesitated—“a way to unlock your powers, should need arise.”
My fingers tightened around his, the only thing I could do as his consideration left me speechless. With a weak nod, I allowed him to lead me down the earth-hewn path towards the lake. It was then that I felt the languid stillness of the water, the perfect calm in which it lay, surrounded by the vivid green spread of woods and the breathtaking white-gray of the distant mountains.
Undisturbed. Serene. Safe.
Sirens and Scales Page 79
