Sordid Depths
The Cursed Seas Collection
Heather Marie Adkins
Jennifer Laslie
CyberWitch Press
Contents
Sordid Depths
1. Rivka
2. Lesya
3. Rivka
4. Lesya
5. Rivka
6. Lesya
7. Rivka
8. Lesya
9. Rivka
10. Lesya
11. Rivka
12. Lesya
13. Rivka
14. Lesya
15. Rivka
16. Lesya
17. Rivka
18. Lesya
19. Rivka
20. Lesya
21. Rivka
22. Lesya
23. Rivka
24. Lesya
25. Rivka
26. Lesya
Epilogue
About the Authors
About the Authors
SORDID DEPTHS: The Cursed Seas Collection
Copyright © 2019 by Heather Marie Adkins & Jennifer Leslie
Published by CyberWitch Press
Paoli, IN
cyberwitchpress.com
[email protected]
First edition, published February 2019
All rights reserved.
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.
In layman’s terms: Don’t be a jerk. Writing and publishing is the author’s career. Support their art by buying their books at their very affordable prices. Don’t steal the author’s blood, sweat, and tears for free from a pirate site. If you did, then go back and buy a book from this author. Legally.
Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional. The author humbly begs your pardon. This is fiction, people.
Created with Vellum
Sordid Depths
The Cursed Seas Collection
The oceans are poison and the land is dying, but the only two capable of saving the world aren't really capable at all.
Undersea siren and undercover agent Rivka emerged from the waters seeking salt for her dying people, despite how deadly the mission and how little she knew of the surface world.
Failed mage Lesya just wanted to be left alone to survive in the wilds of Siberia after losing everyone she loved to the dying planet. Solitude, her puffins, and the inevitable approach of her own death were all she needed.
But a chance meeting between the two sets into motion events that will lead them into the mountains above the land and volcanoes below the sea on a quest that will either save the world or kill them all.
If you like the pulse-pounding urban fantasy of The Hollows and the apocalyptic magic of Nora Roberts' Year One, don’t miss Sordid Depths!
One-click today and join the humorous but terrifying journey to save the cursed seas!
1
Rivka
The glow of the city faded away as Rivka entered the less savory part of town: the industrial district, full of storage caves long forgotten. A noise in the distance echoed against the rocks. Rivka tensed, but saw nothing ahead beyond darkness and uncertainty. No bioluminescent phytoplankton lit the way here like on the east side of the underwater city.
She was supposed to meet Dani, her superior, twenty minutes ago. If she didn't arrive to the meeting spot soon, her hind scales were as good as gone. Rivka trailed her fingers along the wall to keep her bearings straight. She'd swam as fast as she could to this point, but speed no longer offered her the safety it did on the well-lit streets.
She passed several abandoned storage caves which yawned open like sea monsters ready to devour her before finally arriving at her destination. She swatted her blonde hair out of her face as it floated on the water around her, and then checked the engraved brick to ensure it read D4 before slipping inside.
Almost immediately, she barely managed to avoid a collision with a large wooden crate. She side-stepped and kicked her webbed feet to propel to the back of the cave, where a blue haze glowed from behind a stone wall.
“You're late,” Dani snapped.
“It was unavoidable. I apologize.” Rikva stepped behind the wall, and Dani dimmed the light source to avoid being spotted by anyone passing by. “Why couldn't we meet at the office?”
“Too dangerous. The Russian mob's spies lurk on the streets now, and we're not sure what their game is.” Dani sighed, her whale leather holster creaking with the movement. “Would you know anything about it?”
“I'm afraid not. You know I've only been within their ranks for a couple weeks. They don't quite trust me.” Rivka shuddered, but the chill in the water had nothing to do with it.
Dani clucked her tongue. “Have you learned anything while among them?”
“Dani, I'm trying, I really am, but these people aren't exactly forthcoming with secret information to someone as green as me.” Rivka's stomach churned. Maybe she wasn't cut out for field work.
As if sensing the direction of Rivka's thoughts, Dani replied, “Listen, we chose you for this position because you're a promising candidate. You've moved up in our ranks quickly because of your keen sense for discovering the truth.”
“But...”
“No buts. Listen to what's not being said. Look for what they're not showing you.” Suddenly, Dani's hand slammed down on Rivka's shoulder, and Rivka let out a squeak of surprise. “You can do it!”
“I don't kn–”
“No. You do know. This mission is too important for uncertainty.” Dani removed her hand and backed up.
Rikva nodded but remained silent. She didn't trust herself to speak.
Dani’s disappointment was evident in her sagging shoulders, though the siren tried to hide it. Rivka had failed her. Granted, she'd only been on the assignment for two weeks, but with her skill and mindset, she should have been able to dig up some little tidbit. Something to keep the powers-that-be happy.
“Four weeks,” Dani said. “One month. That’s how much time I’m giving you to get me some pertinent information. We need something solid to build a defense against their plans.” She turned to leave but paused. “And Rivka?”
“Yeah?” Rivka hugged her arms around her naked torso, missing her own government-issued knife and whale leather harness. She couldn't be seen with it now. Undercover meant no government anything, lest the mob discover her secret.
“Wait five minutes and then you can leave. We don’t need to be seen coming out together if there are eyes around.” With those parting words, Dani was gone—along with her light source—leaving Rivka alone in the cold, dark cave.
Rivka made it back to the rented cave she was issued for this job, thankful to be “home” but drowning in loneliness. This small, dank cell felt less like a comfortable place to lay her head and more like a prison cell on the wrong side of town.
She had just reached for the key hanging around her neck when something bumped her arm.
A scream bubbled up in her throat, but she tamped it down and took a shuddering breath once she realized it was a messenger seahorse. The little orange fish bobbed pat
iently beside her as if it had all the time in the world for waiting. A missive was tied around its tiny, curled tail with seaweed string.
With shaky hands, Rivka unknotted the string and unfurled the paper. A note from the boss.
And not her government boss. Her mob boss. The one who—if he found out she was a mole—would flay her and feed her to the fishes, laughing while he did it.
According to the note, the mob required her presence at a meeting taking place in fifteen minutes. She groaned, realizing she’d need to head back in the direction she had just come from. Her bed would have to wait.
What was so important that they needed her, a greenback, to be present at a meeting?
At least her temporary dwelling gave her an advantage since it put her a mere ten minutes away from the meeting location. Rivka shook off a sense of impending doom and ventured back toward the industrial district.
She really missed her knife.
Adjacent to the industrial district was a neighborhood of small businesses and suburban homes that everybody knew belonged to the mob.
At least here, Rivka had some clout. Granted, it was only two-week-old clout and could be reversed at any time under her boss's direction. But it still gave her a measure of safety she didn't have in the industrial district.
She crept up to a moldy, wooden door gracing one of the shadier caves in this mob-run area. Dark figures lurked around every corner, and the glint of steel caused an uneasy feeling to settle in the pit of her stomach. More than likely, they were guards for the mob boss and harmless to her as a member of his team, but she felt naked without her weapon. She set her knuckles against the worn wood and performed the secret knock.
Knock…knock, knock…knock.
A panel in the door slid back, and menacing brown eyes gave her a once-over before the door opened to allow her admittance.
“You’re late!” Menacing Eyes barked.
She’d heard that before, but unlike with Dani, he was wrong. She’d arrived a few minutes early.
Rivka’s lips remained sealed. Arguing would do her no good, not in this environment. She kept her shoulders back and a stoic look on her face as she passed the short, fat siren, ignoring the way he leered at her breasts.
She slid into a seat near the back and slouched down, trying to make herself as small as possible.
“Oh, good. You’re here.” A tall, brutish man stood behind a podium at the front of the room, staring Rivka down. Oscar was the mob boss’s right-hand man; he commanded respect despite the fact he didn’t always give it. Life in the mob could be a short-lived one if you undermined his authority.
Oscar cleared his throat, and all conversation ceased. He waited until every siren in the room had given him their full attention before he spoke. “We have serious business to discuss tonight.” His affected Russian accent punctuated syllables oddly. Rivka had a feeling he only played up the archaic accent to make himself look tough. “Boss is sick, and well, we need someone to go to the surface.”
Surprised murmurs arose in the crowd, mirroring Rivka's own astonishment. She had never been to the surface. From the sound of it, neither had any of the others in the room.
“Boss has Aether. His lips blue, his memory failing. We must obtain salt if he is to live.” A bag dangled from one of Oscar’s grizzly paws. He shook it for effect, the contents clinking together. “Everyone in room will pull stone from pouch.” He loosened the drawstring and stepped around the podium to the closest person. “Here, you pull first.”
“I’m not scared,” the man scoffed. He reached in and yanked out the first stone. The innocuous gem sparkled blue within the range of the bioluminescent lamps.
“Blue.” Oscar nodded. “You are good. No worries. Person who pulls red stone will be sent to surface.” He moved on to the next siren, shaking the bag as if it were treasure.
With each blue stone pulled, Rivka’s worry grew. The chances of her drawing the red stone grew exponentially as he passed row by row. Oscar demanded each and every person pull a stone, and everyone silently complied.
Until Oscar reached the man in front of Rivka.
“Take stone.” Oscar shoved the bag in the man's face.
There was a beat of silence.
“No.” The word rang out like a bomb, quieting the room. Rivka could feel the weight of everyone's horrified looks.
“What did you say?” Oscar’s gills flared. “Everyone pulls stone. No exceptions!”
The stranger shook his head. “I said no. I don’t want to chance having to go to the surface. It's a suicide mission.”
“Are you scared?” Oscar questioned.
“Of course not!”
Before Rivka could blink, Oscar clamped his free hand around the stranger’s wrist and dragged him to the front of the room. The bag flew and hit the table behind them while Oscar slammed the guy’s hand onto the stone podium, a knife gleaming, poised to strike.
“No one disrespects me. No one denies me.” In one swift motion, the stranger lost one of his fingers. Blood oozed into the water, creating a hazy red cloud around his hand. “Now, you pull stone?”
The stranger bit his lip, holding in a cry of pain, but nodded.
“Good.” Oscar released the guy’s hand and thrust the bag in his face. “Pull stone.”
With his good hand, the man reached in and pulled out a stone.
“Blue!” Oscar cried out. “See? You worry for nothing.”
The man sagged in relief as he clutched his injured hand to his bare chest and swam back to his seat.
“Now, where were we?” Oscar waved the bag with flourish this time, moving down the middle aisle toward Rivka’s row, empty all the way across except for her.
Her heart raced as Oscar approached, a sinister sneer painted across his pocked face.
“You, greenie, you next!” He shook the bag, but the sound it made had changed. So few stones were left.
Seeing what happened to the stranger who refused to pull a stone, Rivka had no choice. She rather liked her fingers attached to her hands where they belonged.
Oscar held the bag aloft, slightly higher than necessary, like Rivka could have peeked inside and cheated. He smiled gleefully at the way she had to stretch to even get her hand inside.
Rivka tried to keep the trembling from showing, but her hand shook as she reached into the bag. She curled her fingers around a single stone and pulled her hand out, the object hidden inside her fist.
“Open hand, yes?” Oscar leaned closer, his rancid breath curdling Rivka’s stomach.
When Rivka’s fingers unfurled, all her hopes of staying within the city vanished.
Within her palm lay a perfectly polished red stone.
2
Lesya
The sky hand turned the color of burnt charcoal, and the clouds on the horizon spun in a lazy spiral Lesya Markova recognized as an impending cyclone.
Not the first of the month; not the first of the week, either. Shit, she'd lost count after the first ten this year. When the land had turned to death, and the earth began to decline rapidly, so did the weather, making life on her small, isolated peninsula a constant struggle. From life-threatening waterspouts to barren ground that produced little to no sustenance, each day brought a fun new problem to be categorized and overcome.
Thank fuck for ingenuity.
Beyond the sheer cliffs that protected her cottage from the dangers at sea, the gunpowder-gray ocean churned restlessly. It seemed as unsettled as Lesya herself felt.
She stepped into her boots outside the front door of her cabin, eyeing the far-away storm. She had hours, still. At least three, maybe four. She’d seen enough cyclones barrel over the coast and onto her doorstep to be able to recognize their patterns.
Good thing she had some time, too. She was out of charcoal and needed fresh water. Without charcoal, boiling water was impossible. The wet, dead limbs littering her property didn’t burn well on their own, no matter how much she fanned the flames. And without the mea
ns to boil water, she went thirsty.
Being thirsty made her grumpy.
Plus, Potato’d had a strange cough for a few days now. Vera probably had something to fix that.
Tossing her satchel over a shoulder, Lesya set off on foot towards the cracked asphalt road that led into town. The slim line of ancient trees that separated her seaside cottage from the road had lost the last of their leaves long before she’d come to reside there, but their heavy trunks sheltered her just enough from the outside world to keep her comfortable. She liked to pretend it wasn’t the privacy they offered, so much as the sheer age and might with which they ruled over her land that made her feel so safe. As she breached the tree line, she could feel their protection wane. Outside her forest, she wasn’t safe.
She touched the dagger at her hip, just to reassure herself it was there.
The dead grass embankment ascended steeply to the old road ahead. The sky spit cold rain—not enough to soak her, but enough to bug her as it hit her eyes. Lesya yanked up the fur-lined hood of her coat, retreating into the darkness. She eyed the asphalt smoking under the cold rain—the heat of the day giving way to the coming cold of night—then stepped onto the road.
A tentative chirp from behind her halted her progress. She swiveled to see Cheese, her favorite puffin, waddling from the trees.
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