Adonis shrugged. “Yes.” He looked at her. “You’re Eurydice, aren’t you?”
She inclined her head. “I am.”
“I thought so.” Adonis took a hit off his cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a perfect ring. “I never forget a love story.”
“What love story?” Kirill pressed.
Adonis opened his mouth, but Eurydice held up a hand.
“No. We don’t have time for this. None of you can be trusted to behave with one another, so I think it’s best if you all go back to your respective kingdoms. You’ll feel when the time is right to come again.”
Beast quelled for the moment, Etienne straightened slowly and gestured to her trunk. “Should we…?”
“No,” Eurydice said coolly. “No blood. Adonis was right. It won’t work properly until you’re all mated.” She pressed her lips together into a tight line. Truth be told, given the wound in her side, she could have used the pick me up, but she didn’t want any of them handling any sharp and pointy objects right now. Patricio was too close to the edge, and Adonis, for whatever reason, was determined to push him over.
“After we are all mated,” Kirill inquired casually, “what happens then?”
Eurydice folded her arms across her chest, mouth curving into a weary smile. “So ambitious, Kirill. You will see.”
With nothing more to be said, they left. One by one they turned and disappeared into the forest. As soon as they were all out of sight, Eurydice gave in to the emotions shaking her limbs like the howling wind. She covered her face with her hands and fought back the tears.
“Oh, Marcela,” she whispered. “I hope we’re not too late.”
Chapter One
“Gaspar, where are you going?”
Marcela lashed her tail against the current, swimming forward in a burst of speed. Bubbles kissed her skin as she kept her eyes on the glittering blue scales of her brother’s tail, the delicate fins undulating with every ripple in the water. Gaspar paused and turned back to her, letting his lower body drift down so he hovered vertically in the water as he waited for her to catch up. Blue eyes that matched the scales of his lower half darkened with annoyance, and his lip curled in a sneer. Marcela fought to keep the distaste from her face as she noted the dull glow of gold around his neck and wrists, the rings adorning every one of his fingers, including his thumbs. Gaspar’s gaudiness was unbefitting of a member of their father King Triton’s royal guard.
“There’s a ship in danger.” Gaspar’s tone rode the edge of condescension, the insult compounded as he swam a little higher to tower over her. “I’m on my way to help, as is my responsibility as part of the royal guard.”
“Your dedication to your duties is admirable,” Marcela said calmly, trying to keep her annoyance from her voice. “But I’m on my way there myself, and the triplets are likely there already. Between us, I’m certain we have the situation well in hand.” We don’t need you up there eyeing their valuables while we try to save their lives, she added in her head. Marcela leaned forward into the sea’s embrace as she prepared to continue her trek to the distressed ship.
“Such a dutiful daughter.”
Gaspar’s voice slithered over her spine like the unwelcome caress of an octopus. Marcela’s shoulders ached with a sudden surge of tension. The shine of his ornaments flashed as he swam ahead of her with a few strokes of his powerful tail.
“However,” Gaspar continued, “the ship in question is not just any ship. Reports have come back that it’s from the royal fleet of Meropis. Fernan says the prince himself is on board.” His mouth twisted into a sneer and he swam backward as he offered Marcela a careless shrug. “Father has ordered all but his personal guard to aid the ship in the spirit of maintaining good political relations. So you see, I will be coming along.” He gave Marcela his back. “You’ll forgive me of course if I don’t wait for you?”
Marcela clenched her teeth and fisted her hands at her sides, trying to resist the urge to grab her arrogant brother by his precious necklace and drag him over a bed of broken coral. Gaspar was among the smallest of the royal guard, his upper half all sharp angles gradually tapering down into a slim, leanly muscled tail. She was certain that if she really put her mind to it, she could snap him like cheap fishing line.
Unfortunately, if her father had told Gaspar to go to the ship, Marcela was not in a position to tell him otherwise. Besides, there were lives in danger. Now was not the time to address Gaspar’s shortcomings. She eyed his trinkets again. Nor was it the time to ask him how he came upon the lavish baubles he was evidently so fond of.
Gaspar thrashed his tail, propelling himself forward in a burst of speed. Marcela made a mental note to move her slippery sibling up her priority list then continued her journey to the endangered craft.
Her annoyance vanished as she spotted the hulking shadow bobbing precariously on the storm-tossed surface. Even from a league below, she could see the frothing water, could feel the vibrations of the chaos echoing against the waves. A tinge of blood trickled past her senses and adrenaline heated Marcela’s blood. Her eyesight sharpened and she zeroed in on the source. A few flicks of her tail and she was hurtling through the water, aimed at the human body sliding through the current. She grabbed him and hauled him up to the surface, gasping as a sharp spray of water hit her full in the face, stinging her eyes and cheeks.
The ship’s heavy wood groaned and creaked under the stress of the howling wind and the punishing smack of the waves. The sailor in her arms coughed and heaved, throwing up the seawater he’d swallowed even as he tried to fill his lungs with air. Marcela held his arm, keeping his head above water as she shifted so she was in front of him. His body pressed against her back and she pulled his trembling arms around her neck.
“Hold on,” she shouted over the roar of the winds.
The sailor fumbled a bit, fighting to keep hold of her as another rolling wave tried to tear them apart. From the surface, the sea looked black and foreboding, the foaming white tips of the waves as jagged as a shark’s teeth. Marcela clutched his arm, holding it in place around her shoulders until she was certain he was secure, then she swam toward the ship and grasped the thick cords of saltwater-soaked ropes hanging from the sides of the rocking hull.
Hand over hand, Marcela hauled herself up. Her muscles bunched and flexed, the burn heating her blood. Rhythmically, methodically, she climbed one hand over the other. She swung her tail from side to side, using the momentum to reach higher with every pull. Finally she reached the top of the ship. Sucking in lungfuls of air, she called out to the sailors shouting and rushing about on the deck. Her melodious voice cut through the wind and rain, weaving like a magic spell through the storm until it reached the ears of the fallen man’s fellow sailors. Their heads rose, searching for the source of the voice ringing over the storm.
They rushed to the side of the ship and dragged their mate back on board. Their shouts of gratitude were lost to the winds, but the way they quickly hauled their friend to safety was all Marcela asked for. She gripped the bars of the guardrail, preparing to throw herself back into the water. A flash of white caught her eye and Marcela turned her head toward the sight.
An angel.
Every muscle in Marcela’s body tensed and her lips parted. She’d heard of the angelic prince of Meropis, had even caught glimpses of him on the palace balcony or flying over the sea once or twice. But never had she seen him so close.
A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, as if the gods themselves wanted Marcela to have a better look at the hulking being with the wingspan that cast half the ship in shadow. The white robes he wore were soaked, hanging heavily against his thick, muscled chest, bared to the sea air as the wind tried to rip the garment from his body. Golden hair soaked to a burnished copper hung in thick coils to his shoulders. The sharp lines of his face were twisted with effort as he fought with a dark figure writhing against the side of the ship.
Despite the chill of the wind and the spray of salt, a steady heat built inside Marcel
a. For a moment she forgot where she was, forgot what she should be doing. All she could do was stare. A dull shine of gold and a shimmer of blue scales drew her out of her daze.
Gaspar.
A flash lightning illuminated a sliver of silver above the angel’s head. Marcela blinked in confusion, then her breath caught as she realized it was a sword. A broadsword, wider than her arm and nearly as tall as she was from head to tail. There was little detail on the metal to break up the smooth shine, making it appear like a bolt of lightning held in the giant angel’s hand. She followed the blade as the angel swiftly brought it down, slicing through the air then biting into Gaspar’s neck.
The scent of blood exploded around her. A brilliant light cut across Gaspar’s neck where the blade passed through, but his head did not fall. Instead, the light zigzagged over his body, tattooing strange glowing symbols into his flesh. Black mist erupted from his pores, rushing toward the angel like a swarm of insects. The angel threw back his head, his chest expanding as he inhaled the darkness, breathing it deep into his body. He held himself there like that for a moment, arms out to the sides, body vibrating. Marcela sucked in a breath as Gaspar tumbled over the side of the ship and vanished beneath the hungry waves.
Gaspar. My brother.
Horror rose in a towering dark mass inside her, a monstrous shadow reaching out to clutch her throat and cut off her air. Gaspar. He’d killed Gaspar. Marcela dragged her gaze back to the prince, her jaw hanging open and words fighting for a place on her tongue. They all died instantly as she found herself looking into a set of eyes like liquid mercury, bright silver piercing the darkness. Warm energy flowed over her in a wave. She lost her grip on the rail and had to scrabble to regain her hold as the angel paused in the midst of sheathing his sword. He dragged his gaze up and down her body, those strange glowing eyes burning hotter, twisting things low in Marcela’s body.
Suddenly she was desperate to touch him, desperate to speak to him, to hold him. She blinked, startled as she realized she was holding out her hand, imploring him to come to her. A song warbled in her chest, teasing her vocal cords with the desire to sing a song that would bring him into her embrace.
Heavy creaking preceded a fresh burst of shouts. A thick piece of wood swung forward, groaning like the ship itself were dying. It crashed into the angel. His mouth opened in a silent shout and he pitched forward, his beautiful wings crumpling under the blow. Seconds later his entire body fell forward into the waiting arms of the angry sea.
Marcela followed him, shoving her body away from the ship and twisting in the air to land in a perfect dive. She sliced through the water, scanning the current for the fallen angel. Her heart pounded, the sound of her own pulse roaring louder than the rush of water past her ears. The smell of blood was strong and panic sharpened her senses even further.
Another flash of lightning lit the sky and lit up the angel’s wings like the pure sails of a freshly launched ship, floundering in the storm tossed ocean. Marcela swam as hard as she could, fighting through the water until she reached him.
As large as he had appeared standing on the deck of the ship, it had not prepared her for his actual size. Marcela didn’t even try to put her arms around his chest to draw him to the surface. Even if she could have gotten a grip around his broad shoulders and solid torso, his wings undulated with every current, making it difficult to see even after she did get her hands on him. She settled for grabbing one of his wrists and hauling him toward the surface.
As she fought for his life, Marcela’s eyes burned and she was shocked to realize she was crying. The thought of not making it, of not getting the prince to the air in time to save his life, twisted her heart until it was a sharp ache in her chest. She broke the surface with a jagged cry, immediately thrashing around to get the prince’s head above water.
Her head swam as she looked down and saw tendrils of red spreading from his golden hair like the limbs of a deadly jellyfish. She clutched him closer, desperation sending another burning wave of adrenaline through her veins.
“Hold on,” she sobbed. She fought against his wings, turning his body so his back was to her. Grunting and fighting against his weight even in the saltwater, she managed to get his head on her shoulder so she could keep his face above the surface. She slid her hands under his arms and pulled.
“Marcela! Marcela, are you all right?”
Fernan’s voice was faint and Marcela struggled to see through the rain and rolling waves. She saw a flash of pale green scales and then Fernan’s head broke the water. Black hair braided in one thick rope down his back floated behind him and his sienna colored eyes reflected his concern. He took one look at the angel and his shoulders stiffened.
“Is that Prince Patricio?”
Patricio. That’s his name. Marcela leaned down to lay a kiss on his head, wondering why she’d never taken the time to remember his name until now. He was the most wonderful creature she’d ever seen. Her heart ached at the thought that she’d waited this long to see him.
“Um, princess, what are you doing?”
Fernan glanced back and forth between her and the prince, the skin around his eyes pinched as he studied them both intently. Her cheeks heated as she realized she was stroking Patricio’s chest.
“He’s too heavy to haul back up to the deck. I have to get him to shore.”
Even with a mermaid’s keen eyesight honed to see in the darkness of deep water, she had to squint to be certain she was headed in the right direction.
Fernan cast a glance in the direction she’d been swimming and nodded. “All right. Why don’t you let me take him, you can swim ahead to have people waiting for him?”
“No!”
The heat in her cheeks flared as Fernan’s eyebrows met his hairline. She looked away, cradling Patricio tighter against her chest and swam backward again. “No, I’ll take him. You swim ahead and tell them to be ready.”
Fernan cleared his throat as if preparing to argue and she desperately sought something to catch his attention. “Have they got the ship under control yet?”
“Yes. We’re towing it back to shore, but it will take a while. All the sailors were told to get to their quarters below deck and stay there until we tell them it’s safe to come out. Thankfully, all have been accounted for.”
“Good.” She waited for him to disappear beneath the water to swim toward shore, but Fernan remained where he was. He opened his mouth and Marcela’s temper broke.
“What are you waiting for? Get going, tell them I’m bringing him in. Unless of course you think the daughter of Triton is not up to the task?”
“Not at all, of course not.” Fernan looked away, stretching his arms out in preparation for a dive. “I’ll see you at the shore.”
Marcela tamped down on the little voice inside her that told her she was being irrational. Was it irrational to want to be close to Patricio? Was it irrational to want to personally see to his safety? Isn’t that what one was supposed to do when one was in love?
Patricio moaned and Marcela’s heart leapt. She pressed her cheek to his head, singing softly as she flicked her tail underneath him, dragging him up the waves and then sliding down the other side. Current after current, wave after wave, she pulled him to shore, humming a song the whole way. Her voice drifted over the water echoing around them as they got closer and closer to shore.
Despite the thunder rumbling around them and the jagged bolts of lightning that illuminated the ship rocking precariously on the waves in the distance, Marcela had never felt more at peace. With Patricio in her arms, it was as if she’d regained a piece of her soul she hadn’t known she was missing. She could have swum with him all night and well into morning, cradled in the embrace of the sea, floating up and down on the waves, her arms wrapped around him.
The summer storm ended as quickly as it had begun. Already the rain was lessening, the clouds giving up their total dominance over the sky. Visibility improved and Marcela looked behind her to the shore.
Instead of taking Patricio directly to the docks, Marcela pulled him a few hundred meters away to the stretch of isolated sandy beach. Waves thrust them forward, washing over them in foamy kisses. She pulled Patricio through the shallows and wrestled him onto the sand, heart pounding with exertion. When she finally had him lying in the sand, she collapsed beside him.
She settled her body against his as she regained her breath, molding her tail against his calves, her fins brushing over the dusting of hair on his legs. His body was chilled from the water, but there was still a burning heat lying just beneath his skin, close enough that Marcela curled against him to get closer to it.
“You are very beautiful.” She stroked her fingers over his golden hair, made so much darker by the seawater. She swished her tail back and forth in the shallow waves as they rolled over them, lifting the angel’s wings on gentle swells. As the water rushed back to the sea, it pulled his wing forward, wrapping it around her in a semi-embrace. Marcela’s stomach fluttered as if a tiny school of fish had brushed past her belly, and she cuddled closer to Patricio. She sang softly to the angel, not a song to inspire passion, but one of peace and calm. A soothing melody to ease the tension of his traumatic experience.
Divine Scales Page 2
