To Kill the Dead (Hollowcliff Detectives Book 3)

by C. S. Wilde

  The dead queen chuckled a weird sound similar to twigs breaking. “All you’ll get is me. He’s indisposed, you see.”

  “Indisposed? That sounds perfect.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Remarkable that he regenerated most of your organs and flesh. You must have been clean bones when he found you. How did the malachai do it?” Blowing a whistle, he didn’t wait for an answer. “If only he’d learned that in time to win the great war, don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose. But there are new wars to be won.”

  “Is that what he wants? War?” He observed her reaction, actually, the complete lack of it. “No, that’s not it. Wait. Power. Psychotic shigs like him always seek it, don’t they?”

  The queen’s one eye blinked.

  Power it was.

  “And how does he intend to get it?” he pushed. “Ah, he wouldn’t tell you, would he? Azinor obviously wouldn’t share vital information with one of his pawns.”

  Her face contorted in outrage. “Pawn? He’s my—” All too quickly, she caught on to Bast’s game. Wagging her bony finger to the sides, the undead smiled. “You’re smart, fae prince. I see why she loves you, so I’ll grant you a gift.”

  “For little old me?” He stamped a hand on his chest mockingly.

  Raising her chin, a smirk cut across her cracked lips. “He’s free, Sebastian Dhay, and he will bring Regneerik to land and sea. Rejoice, for it shall begin with you. You’ll die knowing you were the one who doomed my daughter. You’ll be your hart’s death.”

  All fake amusement drained from his face.

  “Leave Mera out of this.”

  “Out of this?” The queen cackled. “Why, she’s the centerpiece!”

  “I’m warning you.” Darkness bloomed from his free hand.

  The undead woman hissed at his magic, watching it with disgust. “This is what imprisoned him for so long. Your people’s magic. He couldn’t get out, but that didn’t mean others couldn’t get in.” Her tone seemed wounded, bitter.

  “So the prison was exclusive to Azinor?”

  Essence-binding magic was the only explanation; a type of spell so powerful, it bordered on forbidden.

  The fact his great-great-whatever-grandfather had done that didn’t surprise him. When it came to morally dubious things, his family had a track record. Then again, how was one supposed to stop he who couldn’t die?

  Desperate times, desperate measures.

  “I see,” Bast went on, reading straight through her. “You entered the shark’s den and poked it with a stick.”

  Scowling at him, the queen pointed to the crown in his hand. “Enough with you. Give me what should have always been mine.”

  “Why did you leave it at the beach for us to find, then?”

  “That wasn’t my choice,” she snarled. “He wanted Mera to wear it. The more she used it, the more she would imprint on it. Using the right runes, he could drain her power through the crown.”

  “Tough luck.” Bast scoffed. “Wearing a crown isn’t Mera’s thing.”

  “Indeed.” A certain bitterness coated her tone. “That’s why you’ll give it to me.”

  His darkness bloomed around him in pitch-black blazes, his fangs sharpening. The power spilled from his core, seeping into every crevice of his being.

  “Come and get it.”

  The queen flicked her hand slightly. “You first, Detective.”

  Taking the cue, Bast boosted forward, but didn’t move an inch. He pushed toward the queen, yet his blood kept in place, pressing against his veins and stretching their walls to the limit. It was as if his body wanted to split in two.

  Literally.

  A scream ripped through his throat, the pain of the friction too great for him to bear.

  The queen strolled lazily toward him while he struggled to break free. With one quick move from her, Bast’s fingers released the Crown of Land and Sea against his will. An indignant yelp escaped his throat, veins thumping in his forehead.

  Danu, even breathing hurt.

  Catching the crown mid-fall, the walking dead placed it atop her head. “You nightlings kept this for a millennia. A crown that was never meant to be yours.”

  “We didn’t want it. Merfolk gave it to us for safekeeping.”

  Knowing what he did now, had that been the real reason? Or had some crazy waterbreaker plotted to have a Night King imprinting in the crown?

  It didn’t matter now. Those beings from ancient times were long gone. Even Azinor wasn’t so old.

  The macabre holding Bast in place waned slightly before the queen punched his face, again and again, followed by his stomach. His left eye pulsed, and warm liquid trickled down the edges of his mouth.

  Halle, her undead bones must be made of lead.

  Spitting out blood, he groaned. Bast would have struck back, but the queen’s macabre froze him in place as soon as she was done hitting him. The element of surprise had played to her advantage. Twice.

  Enough with that. If she punched him again, he might be able to raise his defenses in time.

  The queen was smart, however. She lowered her fists, smiling wickedly at him.

  Fuchst ach. The long way it was, then.

  His magic fought against the queen’s, slowly eating away at her hold without her noticing it.

  Bast had to keep her distracted until he could overpower her. “So, this is your plan?” Sweat broke out on his forehead as he struggled against her magic. “Beat a defenseless fae? Didn’t take you for a coward, Ariella Wavestorm.”

  “I wouldn’t call you defenseless, but no, that is not my plan. I’m beating you because it’s fun. I used to do the same to my daughter.”

  Anger rushed through him, and Bast wished he could snap her neck for all she’d done to his hart.

  Soon. Her macabre loosened against his darkness with every passing moment.

  The dead queen leaned forward and lifted his chin. His blood pushed in the opposite direction of his flesh, and it took all of Bast’s strength not to scream in pain.

  “I’ll share a secret with you, Detective. I’ll kill your love before Poseidon realizes what I’ve done. What he will do to Mera…” She shivered. “But in order to grant my merling this mercy, I will need your help. He cannot suspect me, you see. That is my plan.”

  “Mercy?” Bast scoffed. “You’re not the merciful type.”

  Almost there…

  “You’re right. I’m not. She does need punishment for killing me, doesn’t she?”

  Lifting her shoulders, the queen took the locket around her neck and twisted it, freeing a sluggish cloud of darkness that rose in the air.

  It towered over Bast like a living, breathing thing.

  “What on—”

  The magic shot into his chest, burning ice-cold against his skin. No, his very soul. It shredded every inch of his essence, maybe his body, too. A maelstrom of agony that engulfed him surely to spit out his bones later.

  Bast couldn’t think, couldn’t warn Mera through their bond.

  All he could do was scream.

  Chapter 26

  Bast was going to die.

  A continuous ringing swallowed Mera’s hearing, her palms becoming awfully clammy. Standing up on trembling legs, she couldn’t grasp the space around her, couldn’t make sense of anything. Untethered from her own body, she floated in a numbing void.

  Air rolled thick and sticky down her lungs. Ariella had Bast, and Mera would never get to him in time.

  She would lose her hart.

  “Cookie!” Ruth’s voice sounded muffled and dim while she shook Mera by the shoulders. “Snap out of it!”

  The queen had Bast.

  Bast…

  “I’ll call the precinct near the shore.” Ruth eyed her with worry. “They should be there in a few minutes.”

  ‘Save Bast!’ her siren screamed, the call shattering through Mera’s agony.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to center her thoughts. “No. Mother will kill them, and then she
’ll kill him. I can’t take that risk.”

  “But—”

  “He’s my hart, Mom. That bitch knows how important he is to me. She’ll kill him if I’m not there.”

  Bast was her heart beating out of her chest, and Queen Ariella had him in the palm of her dead hand. Ten minutes, and that monster would squeeze the life out of him.

  “Your hart? Oh, cookie…” Ruth’s tone oozed with pity. “We will save Sebastian even if it’s the last thing I do, but he can’t be your hart. Soulmates are a fable.”

  Whether she was right or not, it didn’t change the way Mera felt about him.

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?” Tears pushed their way out, sliding down Mera’s cheeks. All because of one fundamental problem. “I can’t get to him in time.”

  Even with the fastest car, they would never reach the beach in ten minutes. A thousand variables ran through Mera’s mind, all resulting in Bast’s death.

  All except one.

  Picking up her phone, she dialed a number—a remarkable feat considering how hard her hands shook.

  A ring echoed in her muddled mind, then another, a space in time in which Mera had no floor under her feet, no end and no beginning.

  “Detective,” the dickhead chortled from the other side. “Bold of you to call me after breaking my brother’s heart.”

  “Bast is in danger.”

  He stopped for a millisecond. “Danu in the prairies, I can’t connect to him through our mind link.”

  Maybe it was because of the distance, since Corvus must be in Lunor Insul. Or maybe, her bond with Bast allowed Mera to feel him more clearly. Her partner’s essence pulsed in the distance, weakened but still there.

  “The necromancer has him.” Ignoring the knee-buckling terror spreading inside her, she forced herself to calm. “Can you winnow into my precinct?”

  Corvus blew air through his lips. “How could I? I’ve never been there before.”

  “Your brother will die in the next eight minutes!” Spinning in a circle, she tried to come up with a solution. “Can you trace the call with your magic?”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Try it!”

  He didn’t answer from the other side. A deep silence took over the call, clawing at Mera, until he muttered in awe, “Would you look at that.”

  Loud interference suddenly burst from the speaker, making her drop the phone.

  “Ouch!”

  The device clanked against the ground, but not hard enough to damage the screen. Before she could pick it up, the air next to her cracked and a portal of darkness cut through the precinct.

  Corvus stepped out, his yellow eyes wide with shock. “That actually worked! Can you believe it? Detective, did you see what I just did?”

  “We have more pressing matters, don’t we?”

  “Indeed.” His forehead crinkled in concentration. “I still can’t find Bast. He must be tremendously weak or… Detective, what’s happening?”

  “He’s not dead.” Bast’s presence remained at the end of their bond, but it was slowly fading. “Can you access my mind and see where I want to go?”

  Touching her forehead with his fingertips, he closed his eyes for a second before nodding. “Let’s go save that malachai.”

  “I’m coming too.” Ruth picked up her shotgun, then grabbed Corvus’ shoulder. “The hell I’ll let that bitch hurt my kid again.”

  Mera’s heart ached. She didn’t want her mom in the line of danger, didn’t want her close to Queen Ariella, but they were wasting time. Besides, she could use all the help she could get.

  Bast’s brother frowned at Ruth as if her touch irked him, but he didn’t move away. “Have you winnowed before, Captain?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re about to throw up.”

  Dark waves hit the shore, the moon highlighting their white crests.

  Tonight, the ocean was neither angry nor calm. As always, its pitch-black surface hid the world below, the world Mera had left behind over a decade ago.

  At a certain distance, she spotted the beginning of a forest, which stretched deeper into the mainland. Somewhere in that jungle, fifteen years ago, she’d buried Ariella Wavestorm.

  The mad queen.

  Mera’s feet sunk slightly in the fluffy sand, while the sound of retching came from behind. Ruth must be emptying her guts after winnowing for the first time.

  “Goddamn it,” her mom grumbled once she was done, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “I warned you.” Corvus shrugged, as if that exonerated him of any guilt.

  Scanning the space, Mera searched for Bast, but she couldn’t find any sign of him.

  When she closed her eyes and tugged at their bond, she caught a glimmer of his presence. He was so weak. His essence flickered against hers, coming from…

  Underwater!

  Mera gasped when she spotted the top of a mooring pole rising from the sea, and a tuft of silver hair floating on the surface.

  “Bast!” she roared, drawing an X with her hands.

  The waves parted, walling a straight path to her partner.

  She boosted toward him, her boots splashing against the sloshy sand. Fish writhed along the path, trying to reach the water-walls that lined the way.

  Tied to the pole, Bast’s head hung low. A tiny whirlwind of darkness spiraled from his mouth up, so that he could breathe. He was so out of it, he didn’t realize he wasn’t underwater anymore.

  Mother had lied. She’d wanted Bast dead before Mera got to him.

  Typical of that cruel, heartless bitch.

  Mera stretched her hand forward, willing the seawater drenching the ropes around his wrists, chest, and ankles to solidify into ice, stretching the fibers to the limit.

  “Bast!”

  He didn’t react.

  She finally reached him, trying to regain her breath. Her hart moaned, half-awake and half-passed out. A purple blotch covered the left side of his face, and a trickle of fresh blood flowed from his lips.

  Red, blinding anger consumed Mera. Death wasn’t enough for Queen Ariella. Mother would suffer for this.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  The thought left her hollow, but she didn’t care. If the queen showed her rotting face tonight, Mera would end her. Painfully.

  “Kitten?” Bast mumbled drowsily, a certain disappointment in his features as he opened his good eye.

  The ice snapped the ropes, releasing him from the pole. He fell hard and at once. Mera nearly toppled over since he was much taller and heavier than her, but she caught him.

  She always would.

  Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, she began dragging him to the shore.

  Fuck. He was heavy, but she wouldn’t stop until he was safe. “I got you, partner. We’re going to make it.”

  “Mera,” Bast mumbled, pain engulfing his voice. “Run.”

  Never.

  From the shore, Ruth stared at her in absolute horror. She tried to yell something, but Mera couldn’t understand what, until the air cracked and split behind her and a cold blade pressed against her jugular.

  Crap.

  She couldn’t fight back, couldn’t run. If Corvus wanted her dead, she was a walking corpse already.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you, akritana.” His breath banged against the back of her neck, his voice hissing in her ear. “You’re a traitor.”

  Ruth took aim, but she was too far to make a hit. Not only that, but a shotgun wasn’t a sniper’s rifle. As impeccable as her mom’s shooting was, ensuring the blast didn’t hit Mera or Bast was impossible.

  “I’m trying to save your brother,” she explained matter-of-factly, annoyance clear in her tone. Bast was hurt and they were wasting time. “Do whatever you want to me after we help him, okay?”

  “Corvus.” Bast’s tone rang so weak it squeezed her heart. He tried to lift his head, but couldn’t. Heavens, he was shaking so hard. “Hurt her, you die.”
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br />   “Kura!” Corvus pressed the dagger harder against Mera’s throat, drawing a thin cut. His hand quivered, which meant a lot considering he was a professional assassin. “What did you get yourself into, brother? An akritana, for Danu’s sake!”

  “Min hart.”

  “Oh, you baku!” With a displeased hiss, Corvus yanked the blade away.

  Bast’s head hung heavier, his feet unable to support him any longer. He was passing out, and Mera struggled to keep him upright.

  “Bast! Wake up!”

  “Stupid shig,” Corvus grumbled under his breath before taking him from her grasp, holding his brother with both arms.

  Bast sagged in his hold, so frail, destroyed… Mera wasn’t prone to crying, but she cried then, consumed by a heart-wrenching anguish that made breathing impossible.

  “My heart,” she whispered.

  A statement. A fact.

  Her trembling hand reached out to touch him, but Corvus pulled him away. The Night King winnowed to the shore without warning, leaving her behind.

  Asshole.

  Mera hurried toward the upper banks and when she reached dry sand, the waterwalls crumbled down on themselves, destroying the path she’d created.

  Corvus laid Bast near the drift lines, where Ruth was standing. Her mom watched the Night King through narrowed eyes, her gun at the ready.

  “How is he?” Mera asked once she reached them.

  Scanning Bast with concern, Corvus shook his head. “I haven’t the slightest clue, Detective. If that’s what you really are.”

  “Of course she is!” Ruth snapped.

  Bast suddenly twisted and yelped, as if an invisible force tried to kill him from inside. Kneeling beside him, Mera laid a hand on his forehead, anguish squeezing her neck. “Tell us how to help you, partner.”

  He couldn’t. Bast struggled to even breathe.

  Right then, Mera prayed to all gods out there, old and new, human or not. She begged them to help Bast.

  None of them listened, of course. The bastards weren’t real.

  “Can it be?” Corvus studied his brother, his jaw hanging as he widened his eyes. “Sakala mi.”