The bubbles in the cauldron were beginning to fade, a sign the magic needed to be renewed. Unfortunately, Amphrite didn’t seem in the mood for the necessary hand holding and I doubted my ability to go it alone. “That’s not true. I went in there to save him.”
What happened afterward was another matter …
“But you failed!” she snapped, spinning on me. “And in doing so you stole Poseidon from us all.” She punctuated her statement by parting her vest and laying a protective hand to the swollen pooch of her mid-section.
My gills clamped shut, momentarily forgetting how to function. “You’re … pregnant.”
“Her name will be Morgana,” she declared, rubbing her belly in a small, circular motion, “and I foresee her spending much of her life fighting to get out from under the evil stigma associated with her dear, departed, older sister.”
“Think of all of our men, Amphrite,” I urged, struggling to keep my tone calm and steady. “If you kill me now, every one of them will die.”
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you,” she purred with a deadly smile. “But, my dear, sweet child, you will wish I had.”
With those as her parting words, she vanished in a cloud of lavender smoke, riding the current out.
Beside me, the cauldron gave one final glug and the last bubble of the remaining brew burst.
“Amphrite, no!” I screamed my throat raw at the void she left.
With a nauseating knot of terror twisting my gut, I reluctantly turned to the pearl.
As the sunset on the third day, the first soldier seized in pain.
Legs failing him, he shrank to the ground. His tail returned before he settled in the sand. The human he was fighting wasted no time taking advantage of this development. Arching back, he let the metal of his sword wing through the air, landing with a sickening thunk as it freed the merman’s head from his shoulders.
One by one more mer fell. Some were able to scoot themselves back to Mother Ocean’s soothing swaddle. More found themselves at the mercy of an enemy without an ounce to spare. Carnage and horror burning into my eyes, I had to do something. Sweeping all the remaining ingredients from the shelf, I dumped them all in to the simmering cauldron. Crouched down beside it, I tried to focus my depleted magical energy for just a … little … longer. Hoping even a few more men would make it back to the water.
In the distance, water churned with the unmistakable sound of a school of bodies swimming my way.
“Princess Vanessa, what’s happening?”
“How could you do this to them?”
“They’re dying! Have mercy, you witch!”
Within the pearl more men fell, their purple faces and clawing hands scrapping across the ground with the promise to haunt me forever. Somewhere amongst them was Alastor, possibly struggling just as they did. Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes and did the unthinkable. Retracting the fingers of my spell, I used the pearl to riffle through the essences on that beach for that one particular voice. I found him in a sweeping cyclone of magic, his legs about to be stolen from him, bruises and scrapes decorating every inch of his flesh. A horde of humans, with their weapons drawn, eagerly awaited his vulnerable moment.
As the angry mob stormed my parlor, I drew my strength into my core. With one final, exhausted push, I gifted Alastor every magical charm I had left. My only hope being it would be adequate enough to get him home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
This way, my Princess!” Floteson hissed in an urgent whisper, leading me to a crack in the wall at the back of my cavern I had never noticed. Leave it to puny sharks to have a second way out of any situation. While he led the way, Jetteson nudged the small of my back for me to follow.
Angry voices tore through the water in a deadly rip current. The venom in their collective tone screamed for me to flee. Still, there was another part of me that hesitated before wriggling through the crack in the walls.
“I need to know … all those people …” I whimpered in a choked sob.
Jetteson coiled around my wrist, persistently yanking me onward. “Answers will come, my liege, after we get you safely from here.”
Reluctantly, I let them pull me, the cold stone scraping over my skin as it thrust me headlong into freedom. My boys shepherded me along, swimming behind me to urge me on whenever my speed or motivation faded. The water grew darker the farther from the hub of Atlantica that we swam, the chorus of voices fading to a haunting echo. On a constant swivel, my head turned to all I was leaving behind. My heart cracked and crumbled a little more with every flap of my tail.
“We must head to the dark regions. The area off of Bermuda that no one dares to travel.” Jetteson ground his teeth, his tail swishing side to side as he mulled it over.
Floteson shot him a disapproving glare. “The insane asylum for lost fish and mer? That’s no place for a precious treasure like our princess.”
Tears streamed down my face, each swallowed up by Mother Ocean. Maybe the area dubbed the Isle of Misfits was exactly where I belonged. Each blink brought back the image of all the falling soldiers. Only in this vision, their clawing hands, once reaching for the sea, closed around my throat and squeezed in an unrelenting grip. Unable to think … to breathe, I stopped short. My gills rising and falling in a raspy wheeze.
“I-I have to go back.” I forced the words through my constricted throat.
Floteson darted behind me as if to block my retreat in the expansive sea. “My Princess, no! You can’t!” Swimming in close, he snaked around my neck to line himself eye-to-eye with me. “They view you as a villain. They won’t care to hear any arguments to the contrary.”
“But … Amphrite,” I stammered, the argument sounding weak to my own ears.
“No one except the three of us even saw her in your shop,” Floteson interjected, the grating voice of reason. “They will think you seek to shift the blame. For now, at least, Atlantica is off limits to us.”
Slowly nodding my understanding, I straightened my spine and raised my chin with the regal air taught by a haughty upbringing and countless hours of etiquette training. “You’re right. Atlantica is off limits. Fortunately, that’s not where we’re going.”
Exchanging matching looks of confusion, Floteson and Jetteson twisted in a swirl of scales and teeth. “Where, Your Majesty?”
“To Lemuria, or what’s left of it.” Combing my fingers through my knotted hair, I twisted it back into a loose knot, my resolve building with every thump of my battered heart. “There are people writhing on the shores of that burning town screaming for help. And I am the only one able—and willing—to provide it.”
Without waiting for their response, I turned in a tight back flip and kicked in the direction of those that called to me. I expected my boys to argue. To my surprise, they swam to catch up without a word. Their protruding jaws clenched tight, they matched me stroke for stroke.
Our destination?
Not the beachfront, where the cluster of Atlanticans huddled in search of their loved ones. The targeted destination was the rocky shoreline I strolled along, away from bustling nucleus of the town.
There I would grant myself legs.
There I would earn back a bit of salvation for my tortured soul … if it wasn’t too late.
The earth trembled beneath my cracked and bleeding feet. The south tower of Lemuria’s most extravagant castle broke away from the structure and crumbled into the ocean. Its splash rained over the shoreline. Smoke-filled air scorched my temporary lungs, burning down my throat. Tears blurred my vision, the cause equal parts pain from the soot-filled air and misery at the ugliness surrounding me. When I first stepped foot on the sands of Lemuria, I found it a lovely, enchanted land that possessed the mysticism of a world conjured in a dream. Now, its beauty lay crushed under the savage boot of violence. A flash of white drew my gaze to the embankment. There, alongside the blood-splattered walking path, smoldered a bushel of the same white flowers the human child tucked into my hair. Their petals wilted to
russet ash before blowing away on a passing gust. Dark thoughts turned to that sweet lass. Would I find her amongst the lumps of burning flesh and fin that riddled the beach? That innocent soul had done nothing to deserve such a tragic fate. Then again, who amongst the fallen masses had?
Inching across the rocky shoreline, I made my way to the heart of the once regal city. At the rise of the final hill, my quaking hand rose to my mouth. Before me lay a macabre mosaic of death. No supple white sand could be seen. Bodies, both human and mer alike, covered every inch. Many having fallen in haphazard stacks two and three deep. Gagging at the stench, I shielded my nose and mouth with the crook of my elbow. Lifting the bottom hem of my skirt, I stepped over bodies with as much care and respect as the situation allowed.
“Alastor!” I shouted, the word morphing into a coughing fit that wretched from my aching lungs.
Silence and crackles from the burning village acted as my only response.
No one called out.
No weak hands raised in search of salvation.
I was too late.
There was no hero to the dead.
Tears cut zigzag paths through the soot that covered my face. I sought closure and resigned myself to the most desperate method possible to claim it. Squelching dry heaves, I nudged fallen men and rolled over those that landed face down in search of the one mer I prayed I wouldn’t find. Hands slick with blood, at each corpse I felt the same sense of dread that I would find myself staring into Alastor’s lifeless eyes.
Hooking one hand under a sinewy arm, I eased yet another body over and emitted a surprised gasp.
“You!” I marveled in confusion.
Yellow-slitted eyes blinked up at me, a wide, maniacal smile stretching over his face.
“You may have noticed, I’m not all here myself,” he chortled, then winced in pain despite not having a visible mark on him.
Gaze traveling the length of the stranger, I gasped to find mer fins at the end of very human legs. Somehow, he had gotten stuck mid-transformation.
“You were in the cell across from me in the castle dungeon.” Brow puckered in confusion, I eyed the odd little man whose luck hadn’t improved much since our last encounter. “How can you be here … like that? It defies logic … makes no sense.”
“Sense?” he giggled, his bulbous eyes rolling skyward as if such a concept bored him. “That’s nothing more than a somber illusion created to squash imagination.”
“You seem to have the fever riddles … if that’s a thing.” Standing up, I stretched my back and gauged the distance to the sea. “I could drag you to the water from here. The entirety of your tail may be restored once you’ve returned to Mother Ocean.”
“My tail comes and goes.” He shrugged. Rolling on to one elbow, he pushed himself up to sitting. As he sat up, a leather-bound book thumped to the ground, which he quickly hid under his arm. “I’m much more comfortable here for now, thank you.”
Catching myself staring at his wild grin, I physically shook myself from its captivating spell. “If you require no aid, I must press on. I’m looking for someone very dear to me, who I fear was not gifted the luxury of time you have been.”
Folding his hands in his lap like a proper gentleman—who just happened to be scantily clad in nothing except a strategically placed clump of seaweed—he tipped his head and beamed up at me. “Oh, you mean Alastor? The son of a servant, turned warrior? He was here. Don’t know where he’s gotten off to now. Things got a bit … wonky at the end.”
Attention snapping back to him as if tugged by a hook and line, I dropped to a squat beside him. “You know Alastor? How? Who are you?”
Where others may have shied away from my intrusion, he moved in closer with a fluid roll of his neck.
“The name is Sterling,” he purred with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows.
“It’s a pleasure to formally meet you.” I tried, and failed, to keep the demanding undercurrents from my tone. “What can you tell me of Alastor?”
Smile vanishing, Sterling blinked up at me. His face erased of emotion, like sands rescinding with the tide. “Who?”
“Alastor! The son of a servant? You just spoke of him!” I snapped, thin patience waning.
“Ah, yes!” That manic smile returned, never quite reaching his crazed eyes. “We swam together, then we ran together, then …” His voice trailed off, distracted by a smoldering leaf riding the smoke-filled breeze.
“Then what?”
His head jerked my way, staring as if seeing me for the first time. “Others were falling—one, two, three—
soon it would be me.
I found another option,
thought I’d take a friend.
Deciding on your boy, I hoped he hadn’t met his end.
I found him, mid-battle,
sliced and battered like worthless chattel.
He took a step, then two, then three.
Finding freedom without leaving the key.
Where he is now, I cannot say.
Somehow the boy found a way.
Wherever he is, wherever he may go …
every adventure requires a first step, you know.”
My chin fell to my chest, hope dragged to the depths by the rants of an imbecile. “That makes … no sense. He only needed to get to the water ...”
“Common sense won’t really work here.” Sterling cringed, sucking air through his teeth.
“So, Alastor is just … gone?” Tipping my head, tears spilled from my lashes.
One arm folding over his mid-section, Sterling rested on the opposite elbow. One finger drummed again his bottom lip in contemplation. “Or … was he ever really here at all?”
My hands slapped my knees, teeth grinding to the point of pain. “You said he was!”
The blank face returned. “Who?”
“Alastor!”
“Oh, yes. Quite right. He was just here. I’m afraid you missed him. Don’t really know where he’s gotten off to now ...”
Shoulders slumped in defeat, I rose to standing.
Whether that lunatic had actually seen him or not would remain a mystery. Even so, one thing was becoming clear: Alastor was gone. My hope, my heart, my future vanished without a trace. Under the sea, or on land, there was nothing left for me. I could run, but to what point? Triton was all I had left. He would be furious—justifiably so. And, surely, I would face punishment. Still, my brother’s love was the only buoy I could cling to.
Accepting that fate, I strode toward the sea. I would own my blame … face judgment … and pray it was enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Reeds, stained black with squid ink, waved in the surf as far as the eye could see. I had thought swimming in from behind the castle, through the residential dwellings of the commoners, would be the safer alternative than blazing through town square. I realized that for the egregious error it was at first glimpse of those telltale reeds. Every home found a place for their flag to commemorate the fallen soldiers.
My mere presence spread through the town like a plague. One by one, mer paused in their tasks to stare. The sudden oppressive silence drew more from their homes, adding to the glaring masses. This was one growing cluster that needed little more than a drop of blood to whirl into a full-blown frenzy.
“Boys,” I spoke softly to my sweet babies that followed in my wake, keeping my focus fixed on the steady building crowd, “go to the cave where I first found you and stay there, hidden from sight, until I send for you.”
Darting in front of me, Floteson and Jetteson strung their bodies together, blocking me from proceeding one flap farther without them.
“No!” Jetteson’s jaws snapped his disdain.
Floteson’s head whipped side to side in adamant refusal. “We will not leave without you!”
“My darlings,” I cooed, cradling their cheeks in my palms, “it’s sweet that you thought that to be a question. Care for each other, and take heart knowing we shall be reunited soon.”
&
nbsp; A flick of two fingers and my outraged sharks vanished in a puff.
What fate awaited me would be mine. I took what solace I could knowing I had at least protected my boys.
Head held high, pulse drumming an anxious reprise through my veins, I kicked into the boundaries of the village.
Merfolk lined the narrow swim path that weaved between the modest dwellings. The heat of their stares bore holes into my flesh as I passed.
From somewhere in the crowd came a word, “Murderer!”
It fed to another, “Witch!”
And another still, “Monster!”
More bodies joined the band, adding their palpable hatred to the inferno growing against me.
A rock pelted my shoulder blade, jarring me forward.
Someone spat on my tail.
The shower of hatred intensified the farther I ventured.
Up ahead, the back entrance of the castle came into view. On either side of the door, two of Triton’s personal guards watched with interest. There was a distant age—yesterday, to be specific—when they would have laid down their lives to prevent an assault on their princess. In that moment, judging by the contempt dripping from their sneers, they would have liked nothing more than to join the crowd by palming a stone and hurling it my way.
I once hoped to rule these same mer as their beloved queen. Instead, my shoulders sagged under their blanket of hate.
“He trusted you,” a familiar voice accused, the crowd parting to allow her slight form passage. “My boy loved you. And where is he now?”
A face that had only ever looked to me with love, pierced my heart with a mask of loathing.
“Loriana,” I sobbed, my chin quivering, “I failed him. I am so sorry.”
“You are not a princess!” Her forefinger, which had separated my hair into countless braids, stabbed in my direction. “You’re nothing more than a siren luring men to their deaths! All that time I cared for you as if you were my own.” Shoulders shaking with an anguished howl, Loriana fell into me. Clinging to each other, we rode out her purge of anger. “And how do you repay me? By stealing the only thing I ever cared about. I rue the day you were born, Vanessa! May you be beached for your sins!”
The Unfortunate Souls Collection Page 19
