by Katee Robert
Why is he in my house?
I stalk back into the kitchen and set the gun on the counter. There’s no telling if a bullet would do more than irritate him, but it’s comforting to have it within hand’s reach all the same. I perch on the edge of the barstool. “I’m going to need you to explain what the hell you’re doing here.”
“I would think that’s obvious.” He drops two eggs onto a plate and pushes it toward me. “We made a deal. How else am I supposed to ensure you keep up your end of the bargain?”
I stare at the eggs and then push the plate to the side. “There is no reason to hold off going through with it now. Give me back my powers, destroy my enemies, and I’ll portal you to wherever you want to go. You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.
“I’m making it precisely as complicated as it needs to be.” He leans against my counter as if he isn’t a giant creature feared by one and all within the ocean. Even my shabby kitchen isn’t enough to damper the effect Abel has. I eye the shadows he casts, taking in the way it moves as if underwater. His magic is a bite in the air, nipping at my tongue with every inhale. I hate it.
I hate him.
Of course he has no reason to rush. He’s got everything right where he wants it. He’s shark to my minnow and he’s enjoying the hunt too much to compress the timeline. Why miss even the smallest drop of misery he can squeeze from me before I’m no longer in his power? Since he’s standing there, looking smug, I snarl. “Explain.”
“Do you know the kind of magic the Deep Dwellers used to steal your powers?”
Frustration sinks its teeth into me. “No, Abel, I don’t know what kind of magic they used. I was less concerned with that than with the fact that they stole a piece of me.”
“I suppose that’s understandable.”
My hand twitches toward my gun despite my best efforts to hold still. I can’t shoot him just because he’s pissing me off. Even if he wasn’t the kraken and even if he didn’t have something I desperately need, I still can’t shoot him out of sheer aggravation. It’s not how I operate. There have to be lines, no matter how inconvenient. Without some kind of moral code, I’m just as bad as the Deep Dwellers and that is inexcusable.
I take a deep breath and strive for what little patience I have left. “What kind of magic was it?”
“Witch.”
The strength leaves me in a rush and if I wasn’t already sitting, I’d hit my knees. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” Witches are one of those strange things that move through both our world and the mundane. Sometimes they’re humans. Sometimes they’re more. Most of them are dabblers who are more in danger of hurting themselves than anyone else, but the true practitioners are ones even the supernatural heavy hitters hesitate to mess with. “How did they manage to get one of them to play along.”
“I imagine they paid well.”
There was that.
I finally meet his gaze, not trusting the amusement I see there. “Well, if you’re expecting me to be able to cough up that kind of money, this whole thing is dead in the water. Don’t let the posh house fool you—I’m broke.”
Abel looked slowly around my kitchen, no doubt taking in the cupboards half a breath away from tumbling off the walls, the counters that have seen better days, and the sink with a mystery stain in it that no cleaning product can dispel. He gives himself a little shake, one of the more human actions I’ve seen him take. “It’s a moot point. I’ve already arranged a reversal of the spell.”
It’s too good to be true.
I’m missing something—something vital. Not only did the kraken manage to stir himself from whatever cave he usually slept in, but he’s going through a whole lot of trouble for one measly portal. If he was from another realm, I might write it off as a desperation to get home, but he’s not. He originated here. It doesn’t make any sense.
“Okay,” I say slowly. The wait makes sense now that I know witches are involved. Their magic is as tied to the moon cycles as ours is. The new moon was just over a week ago, which means we either need to wait another week for the full moon or two for another new moon. Either way, it means more time wasted while this damn kraken screws with my life. “New moon or Full?”
“Full.”
I exhale slowly, trying not to show my relief. “I can wait a week.”
“You don’t have a choice, pretty.” He unerringly opens my silverware drawer and pulls out a fork. “You’re stuck with me for the duration.”
7
The days fall into a surreal rhythm. They’re… normal. I work; I go home; I sleep; I wake up on the beach. Abel manages to resist trying to drown me again, but there’s no denying the fact he could should he change his mind—and he wants me to know it.
By the time the night of the full moon rolls around, I’m about to go out of my skin with misplaced adrenaline. It’s like occupying space with any large predator—I never know if he’s going to keep swimming or take a bite out of me and the not knowing is worse than everything Abel’s put me through to this point.
I don’t know what he wants, so I have no way to prepare for it.
I meet Abel on the beach, this time of my own volition. He’s dressed in the damn three-piece suit again, not a single dark hair out of place. It makes me want to rumple him just to see what he’d do.
Since he’d probably take my hand off at the wrist, I manage to stifle the urge.
Abel raises an eyebrow like he can hear my thoughts. “It’s time.”
“Finally.” I follow him out onto the beach and we head north across the sand. The coast curves more than people expect around here. There’s plenty of little mini-bays and rock clusters to hide us from snooping eyes, but Abel doesn’t stop in any of these places. He keeps walking, leaving me trailing after him as we leave the beach and climb the embankment that borders the highway. This is where the protected land starts, and our path takes us even farther from civilization. Despite the way the trees close in like some kind of earthly grave, I can still hear the soothing shush of the waves below. We’re mirroring the path of the coast, which is all I need to know should this thing go south and I require an escape.
Granted, any escape would lead me to the water, which is where Abel is in his element, so maybe that’s a crappy plan.
Several minutes later, I realize the soft sound melding with the waves is someone humming. Abel steps into a small clearing that’s really a gap between a trio of trees barely large enough to hold three people. I nearly bump into his back when he stops abruptly, and it’s only quick reflexes that propels me to the side.
A woman stands in the middle of the space.
I don’t know what I expected. Robes and a cascade of gray hair and a wart or two, maybe. I should know better by now than to cleave to stereotypes.
She looks like little more than a child. She’s got that coltish body that hasn’t quite grown into itself and there’s a distinct smattering of pimples across her forehead. Her coarse black hair is arranged in neat little towers spaced evenly across her head and her deep brown skin glimmers in the light of the full moon. She holds up a hand. “No farther.” Her hazel eyes take us in and she snorts. “Payment first.” Her voice has a lyrical edge, some accent I can’t put my finger on, but I set the fascination aside. It doesn’t matter where she’s come from or who she is. What matters is that she can restore me.
Abel pulls out a small square box and tosses it to her. She flicks it open, nods to herself, and slides it into the pocket of her loose pants. “Fish girl, you’re up.” She points to the bare ground directly in front of her.
It’s time.
I try to take a step, but my body won’t cooperate. It’s as if it knows that I’m about to forsake it forever. Not forever forever, but the second I’m whole, I’m not going to spend the next few years on land. I have so much time to make up for. So many things I should have been doing instead of killing time in this dead-end little town.
Abel presses his hand to the small of my back
and propels me the rest of the way into the clearing. I shoot him a glare over my shoulder and turn to face the witch. “What do you need from me?”
“Stand there. Don’t talk. You’re just going to piss me off.” She holds out an imperial hand without looking at Abel. “The focus.”
He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that she’s dismissing him as if he couldn’t crush her to death right this very second. He just raises his eyebrows and drops my necklace into her waiting palm. It’s everything I can do not to lunge for it. I clasp my hands behind my back tightly enough that my fingertips go numb. I won’t screw this up. I am so close to fixing everything. I won’t let my impatience ruin my chance to be whole again.
The witch dangles it in front of her face and laughs. “Goddess, this bitch did a sloppy job. She’s lucky it even took in the first place.” She shook her head. “Amateurs.”
I stare. I can’t help it. For someone so young, she speaks with a confidence I’m not sure how to deal with. The contradiction confuses me.
Or maybe it’s just easier to focus on the witch than to deal with what’s about to happen.
Hope is a potent drug. I’ve avoided it for two long years, and now I’m choking on it. I’m desperate to move forward with the ritual, but part of me is sure that this is all some elaborate trick. Surely Abel won’t really give me my powers back. The Deep Dwellers took them for a reason and while the kraken is not an enemy I can imagine anyone gladly making, it all seems too easy.
It’s most definitely a trap.
“On your knees. Don’t touch anything. Don’t move, no matter what happens.” The witch turns to glare at Abel. “And you. Your energy is fucking up my mojo. One hundred yards, minimum, though more would be better.”
His jaw goes tight and his eyes flash, but he nods and melts back into the trees. He’s headed closer to the water, which makes sense. That’s where I’m going first. I won’t be able to resist it, no matter how much smarter it would be to run inland as fast and far as I can.
I have to see this through.
I drop to my knees in the center of the clearing and watch the witch prepare. She’s got an altar of sorts set up on the border closest to the ocean, though it’s just three rocks arranged into something resembling a table. There are half a dozen bowls, two cups, and what looks like a smudge stick, though it’s larger than any I’ve come across. She drops my necklace into the center bowl and murmurs under her breath when blue-gray smoke curls from it in response. “Just as I thought.”
“What did you think?”
“No talking, mermaid.”
I grit my teeth. On her lips, the word gains a derision sharp enough to cut.
There’s nothing else to do but obey. I can pepper her with all the questions bubbling up inside me, or I can sit here and let her work. I press my lips together and force myself still. Once she realizes I’m going to play nice, she nods and gets back to work. Dashes of herbs going into the bowl with my necklace, filling the clearing with scents of night-blooming flowers and other earthy things I can’t identify.
The witch cocks her head to the side and curses. “Not quite right. It’s missing…” She turns and grins. “Ah, yes.” She reaches out, quick as a snake, and yanks several strands of blond hair from my head. “That will do nicely.” My hair goes into the bowl as well and suddenly everything around me flashes cold and dark. I lick my lips and taste salt.
“Hold this.” The witch guides my hands over my head and places the bowl onto my upraised palms. It’s heavier than I expect and the liquid sloshes inside it as I fight to keep it steady. She watches with those strangely shifty hazel eyes. “You drop it, it’s done. We only get one shot at this. You fuck it up, I still get paid.”
“Good to know,” I grit out.
The bowl isn’t that big—no larger than a normal one found in kitchens everywhere—but it feels like she filled it with cement. My arms are already shaking, but I focus on breathing and moving as little as possible. Whatever comes of this, I will not be the reason it failed.
I’m so busy focusing that I don’t notice the witch has moved until she’s standing directly in front of me. She looms larger up close, as if she’s somehow grown in the last five seconds. I could have sworn she only reached my shoulder when I arrived, but now I’m sure she would be taller than me if I stood. What the hell is going on? Does everyone possess shapeshifting abilities in this cursed world?
She presses blood-red lips together. “I’d say I’m sorry this is going to hurt, but the truth is that I really don’t care. Do not drop the bowl.” Before I have a chance to question her, she strikes.
Pain flares through me, tiny ripples that quickly gain size and strength, morphing into a tsunami threatening to drown me where I kneel. Wave after wave, each worse than the last. All centering on my heart.
I look down. I can’t help it.
I’m not the least bit surprised to see the handle of a thick knife protruding from my chest. “You stabbed me.” My voice emerges soft and confused. I might be screaming in rage in my head, but my body won’t cooperate to let it out. Instead, I sit there like the stupidest kind of prey, holding the bowl over my head as I bleed out.
“Price of doing business.”
I drag my gaze to her and blink. She’s sitting on the altar and flipping through her phone, not paying the least bit of attention to the fact that she’s murdered me. My arms buckle, but I lock my elbows. I can’t seem to stop myself from keeping the damn bowl aloft.
My vision turns gray and one particular brutal gush of blood covers the front of my body. My arms collapse of their own volition and the contents of the bowl drench me. I topple to the side but instead of getting a mouthful of earth, I taste the sea.
I thought I was in pain before. I thought I couldn’t go another moment longer.
I didn’t know what pain was.
My body ceases to become my own. I lay there, panting like a wounded thing, as every single one of my nerves is flayed open and left to die with me right there in the dirt.
And then it gets worse.
My lips move, but my throat is too busy closing to emit the scream building there. Burning starts in my toes, a slow-building fire that heats with every inch it climbs my legs. When it reaches my knees, I can’t hold in my cries of pain any longer. My throat opens in a rush and shriek after shriek emerges, tumbling over themselves into one unrelenting scream of unimaginable pain.
I must blackout at some point, because the next thing I know, I’m being carried. I roll my head to get a look at my captor. Not even a flicker of surprise to recognize Abel. “Am I dead?”
“Hardly.”
I reach a shaking hand to touch my chest, but there’s no open wound, gushing my life’s blood onto the ground. There is a new scar, though. I explore it with my thumb. A lopsided star. What the hell? “She stabbed me.”
“She did.”
I open my mouth to demand answers, but the words freeze against my lips as the sensation of dragging ripples through me. My tail is catching the ground every step Abel takes. I press both my palms against the scales coating what used to be my thighs. My magic vibrates through me, as if it’s spent the intervening years bottled up and now it wants—needs an outlet. Between my breasts hangs my necklace and I nearly sob with relief.
I am whole.
“Abel…” I have to swallow and try again. “Thank you. Just… thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
The sound of waves reaches my ears, closer than before and yet still distant despite that. I try to twist and see where we are, but he holds me in an iron grip. “Abel?” I mean for his name to emerge as a demand, but it’s more like a terrified request.
I knew this was a trap. Damn it, I knew it.
I just didn’t expect to be so weak despite the magic now coursing through my veins. I don’t know if I can make a portal in my current state. I don’t know if I even have the strength to try.
“Abel, I already agreed to make
you a portal.”
“And you will.”
Wind whips my hair into my face and I finally realize where we are—the low cliffs just north of the town. They’re well under fifty feet, but it’s still quite a drop. I barely get a chance to register that he’s not stopping or slowing down when Abel’s arm tense around me.
The bastard tosses me headfirst off the cliff.
8
I hit the surface and sink. My body is mine and yet what’s old is new again and I’m as awkward as a newborn. I twist and try to right myself as if I still had legs instead of fins. There’s no time for a new learning curve, because I need to get the hell out of here, but one pump of my tail sends me directly into the cliff face. I reel back, clutching my face and cursing myself in the chirps and whistles of my people’s language beneath the water.
I’m breathing.
I’m whole.
I’m back.
I carefully swim away from the cliff, picking up speed as I head for the open ocean. Abel might be able to toss me around like yesterday’s trash, but he’ll have to find me first. I have absolutely no intention of swimming blithely into his trap, but if he’s not planning some terrible fate for me then I will most definitely hold up my end of the bargain.
After he eliminates my enemies.
A weight hits the water behind me, and I don’t need to look to know it’s him. The sheer size of the kraken displaces so much water, it sends the waves in the wrong direction, pushing my speed even faster. I have to get out of here. Now.
It’s too late.
Reneging on our deal, pretty?
I grit my teeth and maneuver myself to face him. We’re deep enough that I can’t see the bottom even with my excellent vision, but he is so massive, his main body is too large to fit in the space. It’s the first time I’ve actually gotten a good look at him and the sight stops my breath in my gills. He’s magnificent. His body has the faint brindle coloring I noticed before, and his large dark eyes are easily larger than I am. Tentacles disappear in every direction, and it’s all too easy picturing Abel bringing down war ships back when everyone believed the world was flat and monsters lurked just out of sight of land. They weren’t wrong, though science has driven supernatural creatures before it like forest animals fleeing a wildfire. It’s only a matter of time before the humans realize what walks among them.
