Her gaze traveled down to his legs. His long, perfectly formed, impossible legs.
She cursed herself for being who she was—a gardener and a cook. No warrior. No weapon ready at hand. Nothing with which to kill the monster by the wall.
Quickly, scarcely daring to snatch her gaze from him, she looked behind her, scanning the crates that clustered against the building. Atop one of those crates lay a mallet.
Her breath caught.
It seemed oddly right and satisfying, that she should take this creature’s life with an implement like the one her father used to wield.
She took a step and snatched the mallet—but a large hand, pale with bluish knuckles, darted out and caught her wrist. She gasped as she was whipped around and shoved back, against the wall of the building. The creature’s face—beautiful, savage, edged with pain—approached hers.
“Don’t fear me.” His voice was soft, as if he were purposely restraining it, and each consonant sounded oddly crisp. “I won’t hurt you.”
Kestra bucked, but he only pressed more tightly against her, holding her still. His heart thundered through his rain-slicked skin, pounding through her damp clothing until she could feel the frantic beat of it in her own chest. He was terrified, and that fact nearly persuaded her he was telling the truth.
Or his heart might be pounding from the adrenaline of his first foray onto land in search of human prey. He might be planning to drag her over the wall and feast on her flesh in some submarine lair.
But the wounds on his feet, shoulder, and ankle—they looked like mermaid bites and claw marks. He’d been attacked by his own kind.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He swallowed, his gills quivering open for a second and then resealing. “I am Rake.”
“Rake.” Kestra pushed him again, and this time he backed away, releasing her. “I’m Kestra.”
He nodded. “Did I hurt you?”
She mentally checked herself over. “No.”
“Good. This is not how I wanted to begin. But—I was afraid.”
“Of me.”
“You seemed to be reaching for a weapon.”
“You seemed to be invading my village. Looking for your dinner, perhaps?”
“No. Looking for refuge.”
“Refuge?” She barked a laugh. “What makes you believe you’ll find refuge here? What are you?”
His face twitched, an echo of shame. “I belong to the Realm Below. I am a br—I’m part of the Court. I serve the three Queens of the High Mermaids.”
Her brain recoiled, rejecting all the impossibilities in that sentence. “But—you have legs.” A stupidly obvious thing to say.
He touched the belt at his hips. “A piece of ancient technology. It allows me to take human form from the waist down.”
“And what do you want?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Wait a moment.”
Awkwardly, stiffly, he walked to the wall and hauled up the rope he had used, coiling it around the grappler. While his back was turned, Kestra seized the mallet and held it behind her back, taking courage from its solid heft and the feel of its smooth wooden handle against her palm.
Coming back to the overhang, the stranger tucked the coil and claw in a nook between two crates.
“What I want,” he said, “is complicated. Are you the leader here?”
Kestra spluttered a laugh. “No. If I were, you’d be dead already.” Though even as she said the words, she doubted them. The Council would take him into custody, yes, but they wouldn’t kill him. They’d be too eager to find out more about him, to discover if they could use him for leverage or knowledge.
“I was afraid of that. Would this convince your leaders that I come in peace?” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a handful of jewelry—long golden chains, thick bracelets dotted with gems, a sparkling circlet. Kestra was no miner or gem expert, but she could tell that the pieces were priceless.
“Torrent and tide!” she exclaimed. “Yes, that might convince them. But I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. I’m still considering killing you myself.” Her grip on the mallet tightened.
Quick as thought, his fingers were at her throat, his thumb pressing uncomfortably into her neck and his claws dancing along her jugular. He cocked his head, blinking those abnormally large eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t let you kill me. My mission is too important.”
Furious, she swung the mallet with all her strength. He caught her hand just before the weapon connected with the side of his skull. She twisted, but his grip was iron.
So she snapped her leg up and kicked him in the crotch—an easy target, unclothed as he was.
He hissed with pain, lips writhing back over inhumanly sharp teeth, but he didn’t crumple. “I’m used to pain, human,” he gritted out. “I have endured it daily since I was spawned. Now tell me where I can find the leaders of your town.”
But Kestra had no intention of letting the Council lock up this perfect specimen before Mai had a chance to study it. A little time in the cage the sailors had built would take this monster’s pride down a few notches. And if he was trapped in the cage, she’d get the chance to hurt him by her own hand. She wanted to confine him, to cut him, to make him shriek with pain like her mother had shrieked when her father was eaten.
This time, instead of side-stepping her rage or trying to quell it, she welcomed it as an old friend, one who would give her strength for the trickery she must perform.
“I can take you to our leaders,” she said. “Let me show you. You can see the building from here.”
“You may move, but slowly,” he warned, allowing her to inch out from the overhang, into the street.
Kestra pointed to The Three Cherries, whose windows glowed warm through the sheets of rain. “See that building on the hill? That’s where the village leaders gather.”
“Good.” He released her. “I’ll go there.”
“Wait! You can’t go like that.”
“Like what?”
“You’re naked.”
“And?”
“And it would be rude to address our leaders with no clothes on.”
“I forgot. You humans like to cover your forms for protection against the elements.”
“For protection, yes. And for modesty.” Stepping back under the overhang, she unfastened her cloak and shrugged it off. “Here. You can wear this.”
Under the cloak, she wore dark pants and a simple shirt—blousy and cream-colored, with flowers embroidered along the low neckline. The stranger’s eyes moved over her slowly, leisurely; and when they came back up to her face, she cringed at the raw admiration in them.
“You are very beautiful,” he said. “Your shape—it looks so soft.”
Kestra clenched her teeth so hard she thought they might crack. “Put on the cloak. Please.”
He obeyed clumsily. The cloak was big on her, but his shoulders were so wide the edges of the fabric barely met in front. Considering for a moment, she reached up and pulled his long wet hair further forward, to cover his pointed ears.
She sighed. “It will have to do. When we reach the leaders’ building, I’ll take you to a small house out back, and then I’ll go fetch you some proper clothes. You must be well-dressed if you want to meet them.”
“I understand.” He followed her out of the shelter, swaying slightly on his legs. “I wear my best jewels when I go to Court.”
Kestra gasped at the chill of the rain pouring through her thin shirt. “Court.” She scoffed. “I thought your kind too mindless for speech, let alone a court and queens.”
“The merlows are mindless,” he said. “But the mermidons and high mermaids are not.”
Reluctantly Kestra admitted to herself that he was a dream come true, for Mai at least. Maybe he’d be more forthcoming than the female they’d captured, who did no more than snarl when questioned. This one might answer Mai’s inquiries about the mermaid hierarchy and societal structure. They would need the cage to h
old this male, so the other one must be killed. Mai could cut her open and explore her entrails. The thought gave Kestra a fierce satisfaction, but she was revolted at herself, too. When had she become so full of hatred that she’d enjoy watching a sentient creature be split open and dissected?
She glanced at the creature beside her. He was a head taller than her, easily—maybe more, if he were standing straight instead of leaning into his legs as he trudged uphill. She hadn’t imagined one of them to be this tall, or this beautiful. And he was beautiful—she had to concede it even though she hated his very existence. He had a full, pliable mouth that looked surprisingly soft, given the set of wicked fangs underneath. A nose, flatter and thinner than those of most humans, with slitted nostrils; sloped cheekbones so sharp they were almost ridged; enormous liquid eyes, the irises dark blue as a clear night sky. Long dark lashes, thicker than a human’s, probably to catch particles in the water and keep them out of his eyes.
She was already thinking like Mai, noting his physical differences and theorizing the scientific reasons for them. Maybe she had more of an affinity for this type of study than she’d realized.
He turned his head, those globe-like eyes of his scanning her again. No doubt their unnatural size helped him see better in the dark of the ocean; but here on land, they made her feel utterly exposed in the light-colored shirt, soaked through as it was.
“Kestra,” he said, his pointed teeth flashing as he spoke her name.
“What?” she snapped.
“Thank you for helping me. I wasn’t sure what kind of reception to expect.”
She forced a smile, pushing it through the hatred that burned at the back of her throat. “Humans are nothing if not hospitable. To all creatures who come in peace, that is.”
They didn’t speak again until she’d led him around The Three Cherries and into the garden.
“In here.” She shoved open the door of the hut and pushed him inside. One lamp sat on the table, but Mai was nowhere in sight. Either out back, observing the mermaid, or in the inn getting her supper.
“Wait here.” Kestra swallowed hard against the jumping rhythm of her heart. “I’ll be back with proper clothes for you, so you can meet our leaders.”
“Thank you.” He bowed his head.
Kestra faked another smile and he returned it, slowly, his lips stretching in a hideous grin. Her breath caught at the sight of all those razor teeth, and she darted outside, closing the door and racing along the garden path. She plunged through the kitchen, straight out to the common room where Flay lounged in his favorite position, boots kicked up and mug in hand. His feet crashed to the floor when he saw her dripping wet in the thin shirt. A few of the sailors whistled appreciatively.
Flay crossed the room so fast she barely saw him move, his body shielding hers from their eyes. “Blossom,” he hissed. “Are you mad? What are you doing? What’s happened?”
“You won’t believe me until you see it,” she whispered. “Bring Jazadri, if he’s able, and the two sailors who helped Mai build the cage, and come with me. It will take all of you to restrain him.”
He opened his mouth, but she intercepted him with a curt, “Don’t ask questions! Just come.”
“Very well. And you, put on a cloak or something.”
“Why?” She smirked. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen.”
“But I don’t want all my men seeing it.”
“Fine. Hurry and meet me out back.”
She darted back into the kitchen, where Mai perched on a stool, lifting copious amounts of dripping noodles from a bowl into her mouth. Kestra seized her cousin’s arm, dragging her off the seat.
Mai protested through the noodles hanging down her chin. “What’s going on? I was eating that!”
“Trust me, you’ll be so excited you’ll forget about food.” Kestra grabbed her spare cloak from a peg.
“You can’t go!” screeched Enree. “You’re supposed to help with dinner. Your mother will be back soon and—”
“Shut up, Enree.” Kestra hauled Mai out into the rain-streaked darkness and shut the kitchen door.
Flay and his men were rounding the corner of the inn. One of the sailors carried a massive club which he smacked into his upturned palm. “Who do you need us to beat?” he asked.
“I need you to restrain him, not kill him.” Kestra was breathing so fast she could barely speak. “You’ll see. Jazadri, are you able to—I mean, can you—” Her eyes roved over his scratched arms and dropped to his bandaged hand.
“I’ve gotten food in my belly and drink in my veins,” he said. “And I’ve had my hand treated and rewrapped. I’m a new man.”
She doubted that he was feeling as strong as usual, and opened her mouth to say so—but the big sailor squared up his shoulders and glowered, as if daring her to speak another word about his injury.
So instead she said simply, “Follow me.”
She splashed along the garden path, shaking rainwater out of her eyes, inhaling the scent of freshly washed leaves and trying to calm her galloping heart. At the shed door, she hesitated. How well could the creature hear? Better not risk giving any instructions this close to him. She laid a finger on her lips, and with her other hand she counted down to the men—three, two, one.
And she swung the door wide.
Jazadri charged first, darting behind the stranger and wrapping him in two massive arms. The monster was too startled to react, and by the time he regained enough sense to buck against the first mate’s grip, Flay and the other two sailors had hold of him.
The creature screeched, an unearthly cry that raised the hair along Kestra’s arms and neck. “You tricked me!”
She stepped up to him, burning with savage joy. “Yes, I did. Monster. Did you think we’d welcome your kind? You’re an idiot. A fool.” She laughed, a wicked, wild sound that erupted from a pitch-black crevice of her soul.
Rake lunged again and snapped at her, his teeth clashing shut just shy of her nose. Kestra jerked back.
“Blossom, who is this?” Flay’s face was rigid, his eyes wide.
“This thing is a slave to the mermaid queens, apparently.” A triumphant grin spread over Kestra’s face.
“Are you serious?” Mai gasped, edging closer. “Oh, Kestra, he’s perfect! How did you catch him?”
“He climbed over the wall. See the belt he’s wearing? It gives him legs.” She swept back the edge of the cloak. “We should take it off. Then he’ll be easier to handle.”
The creature twisted away from her fingers.
“I’ll do it,” said Flay. “Hold him still, boys.”
“Don’t,” snarled the creature. “You’ll break it.”
“Then tell me how to undo it,” said Flay.
Rake bucked again, trying to break free, but though he was powerful, his movements were unskilled and clumsy. He clearly hadn’t been trained to fight. He sagged in the sailors’ grip, relenting. “Flip the lever and turn the dial to the right.”
Gingerly Flay obeyed, slipping off the belt—and immediately the creature’s lower half began to disintegrate. The sailors cursed in shock, nearly releasing him. “Hold on!” yelled Kestra. Slowly the swirling particles reformed into a thick, muscular tail covered in gleaming golden scales, ending in a translucent blue fin.
“Now we need to put him into the cage,” said Kestra.
“But the other one’s in the cage,” Mai protested.
“Not a problem. Bring him.” Kestra snatched a long knife from the table and stalked outside, around the shed to where the other mermaid wriggled in her prison under a makeshift awning of sailcloth treated to shed the rain.
Kestra crouched in front of her. The mermaid’s jaws were tied shut, but her eyes blazed venomously.
“Don’t worry,” said Kestra. “Your captivity is nearly over.”
The sailors and Jazadri carried Rake around the corner of the shed, his shining tail dragging through the mud. Kestra watched him, noting the instant his eyes latched onto th
e captured mermaid.
“Scythe?” The word burst from Rake’s throat, a hoarse half-shout of disbelief. The mermaid twisted to look at him and thrashed violently, struggling to free her mouth, straining her claws toward him as if she’d like to disembowel him herself.
“I take it you two aren’t friends,” said Kestra.
“Not at all,” Rake answered. “So you’re the ones who caused the disturbance today. Oddly enough, you helped me make my escape.”
“Fascinating.” Kestra turned back to the imprisoned mermaid.
Flay cleared his throat. “Blossom, you need to start explaining your plan.”
She ignored him, sinking her hand into the mermaid’s coarse hair and pulling her head up. “Know this, you disgusting monster. We’re going to cut you apart and study you. You’re going to help us find a way to destroy every last one of your people for good. Do you understand?”
Kestra’s fingers contorted on the knife handle, finding a solid grip. This would be just like slaughtering a pig, or a rabbit. Just like carving a chicken or trimming a plant, just like—
She slashed. The knife caught in the thick cartilage at the center of the mermaid’s throat, and Kestra yanked, desperate for the deed to be done. Dark, watery blood jetted from the creature’s neck, flecking Kestra’s hands.
Why wouldn’t it go through? Desperate tears stung Kestra’s eyes as she hauled on the knife again. But it was stuck.
Flay’s hand closed over hers. “I’ve got it, Blossom.”
Shaking, she released the knife and stumbled back. Flay took hold of the dying mermaid’s hair and, with a single jerk, finished the cut. Unlatching the lid of the cage, he hauled the mermaid’s body out and tossed her into the mud with a sickening splat.
The Teeth in the Tide Page 14