by C. S. Wilde
“Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse and heavy. “I loved it.”
His hand brushed the back of her waist, his eyes curious and expecting. “Did you?” Leaning forward, he nudged the tip of his nose with hers. “What else did you enjoy?”
“I…”
His grip on her waist strengthened and he pulled her closer to him. “Do you love this?”
Poseidon in the trenches, she could feel his chest heaving up and down against hers, the warmth of his skin, and the hardness of his muscles. It was like she’d entered a trance. Like Bast was the siren, and Mera the sailor lost at sea.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I love this, too.”
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her temple, then cupped her cheek. “Mera, I…”
His ears twitched and his eyes widened before he pushed her away and jumped back. Just in time to escape the silver dagger that tore through the space he occupied not a second ago.
Chapter 14
The fae watched them with feral yellow eyes, two ambers that burned along with the sunset. He was clad in black fighting leathers, the belts wrapped around his chest and waist packed with daggers, knives, and tiny weapons shaped like obsidian stars with sharp edges.
Another assassin.
Bast cracked his neck left and right. “Mera, take cover.”
Instead, she pulled out her gun and aimed at the faerie. “The hell I will.”
Their opponent gave them a cruel grin, before unsheathing a long sword from his belt. Fully ignoring Mera, he pointed it at Bast, even if she was about to use his head as a shooting target.
“Brother of shadows, today you must die,” he said.
At least he had the courtesy of speaking English.
His skin was the color of bark, and his short, spikey hair was purple, even though he seemed to belong to the Night court. A long white scar ran from his left eyebrow down to his chin.
Bast raised his shoulders. “That’s what the last assassin said, malachai.”
Mera had learned the word during a beer-pong game in college. It basically meant motherfucker, it just sounded prettier.
“The witch was weak. I am not.” Purple flames burst from the bounty hunter’s hand and ran through his blade.
“Move and you’re dead,” Mera warned.
“Iron bullets won’t stop him,” Bast explained without looking at her, his attention solely on their opponent. “Go take cover, or I swear—”
“No way. You’re my partner, at least for the time being.” She tightened her grip on the gun. “Iron bullets might not stop this assface, but they’ll sure as hell slow him down.”
“This isn’t your battle, Mera,” Bast snapped.
As fast as lightning, the bounty hunter grabbed one of his pointy stars and flung it toward her. Mera blinked, too late realizing she might be dead.
To her own surprise, she kept breathing. One of the weapon’s pointy edges had hit the gun’s muzzle, blocking it.
“What the…” She showed it to Bast. “What is this thing? I thought you guys didn’t like metal.”
“It’s a Shileken. And that’s not metal.”
Mera yanked the weapon out of her gun, analyzing the smooth, obsidian surface. “It’s… stone?” Stone cut so sharply, it bit into the tip of her finger. Throwing it aside, she kept her weapon aimed at the faerie. “Better not miss next time, you monumental shit twat.”
Bast rolled his eyes and flicked his hand. An invisible force pushed Mera straight into the building’s main shaft, gluing her to the red surface. It felt smooth as clay and hard as cement.
She tried to move, but the seamless power increased the more she fought it. “Bast, you son of a—”
“You should have taken cover, kitten.” His tone was bored and nonchalant. He turned to the assassin and closed his fists. “Shall we?”
“I’ll take care of your human later.” His lips curled in disgust as he eyed Mera up and down. “A Night Prince consorting with a human… what a shame.”
“Well, fuck you, too,” she snapped. “And we’ll see who takes care of who, malachai.”
The bounty hunter fixed his battle stance and raised his sword at Bast. “Your human has a dirty mouth.”
“You have no idea.”
Mera pushed against Bast’s magic, but it didn’t yield. “Let me out!” She still held her gun, but with her hand slammed against the wall, she couldn’t take aim.
‘Use the macabre,’ her siren whispered. ‘Or sing to them, make them kneel to your every whim…’
Mera couldn’t do that without revealing her true nature.
The assassin boosted toward Bast, but her partner was faster. He jumped back in a loop as the faerie rushed forward, then kicked him in the spine, sending the asshole toppling over the building’s ledge.
The bounty hunter slammed the tip of his flaming sword on the ridge and swung around, landing on his own two feet at the last minute.
Bast peered at him. “Who sent you?”
The faerie wielded his sword, bellowing a war cry as he ran toward Bast. Her partner clicked his tongue and winced, as if the assassin was a nuisance no greater than a bug.
Darkness pulsed from Bast’s body, rising from his skin and concentrating on two spheres of void that swirled atop his hands. He shot both at the mercenary, who flung one away with a swing of his magical sword.
The other hit him straight in the gut.
The fae kept his screams in his throat, but veins popped on his forehead, his eyes glistening as he struggled to keep standing.
The reek of burnt leather and flesh wafted in the air.
Bast retied his messy hair into a neat bun as he strolled toward the wounded fae. “Brother from the shadows, you know who I am and what I can do.” He studied the assassin with curiosity. “And still, you defy me. I can’t decide if you’re mad or stupid.”
The bounty hunter grunted as he forced himself straight, putting most of his weight on his sword. Beads of sweat peppered his skin, his muscles clenched. A circle of singed leather and flesh marred his stomach.
“You left us, brother. You left because you are weak.” He launched himself at Bast.
Her partner lifted his arm and a thin layer of darkness blinked out of thin air, a shield made of night and stars. It met the sword with the loud clank of metal hitting metal, but there were no sparks.
The mercenary tried to remove the sword from the shield, but it was stuck. Tentacles of night rose from the darkness, wrapping around the tip of the blade. Black rust spread through the metal, infecting it like a disease, until there was nothing left but ashes.
The bounty hunter cursed in Faeish, letting go of the handle before the rust got to his hand. Faster than Bast could react, the fae whirled around and broke through his defense.
The bastard jabbed at his rib, then punched his face.
Bast’s shield disappeared into thin air.
The assassin had the upper hand and he wouldn’t stop. Purple flames burst from his closed fist as he sucker-punched Bast’s stomach so furiously he flung him away.
Her partner landed harshly on the floor, his body skidding over the concrete.
“Let me out!” Mera pushed herself against Bast’s spell, but his magic was too strong.
He groaned and winced, as if something other than the bounty hunter’s attack was hurting him. When Mera stopped struggling, Bast’s body immediately relaxed, which meant that every time she fought against his magic, she fought against Bast himself.
He couldn’t afford the distraction.
He gave her a weak, thankful smile as he forced himself to his feet. “I’ve got this, kitten.” The front of his vest and shirt were completely singed, showcasing his muscular abs. His skin was a little red around the wound, but it wasn’t filled with bubbles like his opponent’s.
Mera sighed in relief.
The assassin removed a dagger from one of his belts and licked it. “Night Prince, I expected more.”
“Seers are
a sham,” Bast stated, steadying himself into a battle stance. “If you’re working for someone who believes in visions, you’re pathetic.”
“Their money is as good as anyone else’s, though I wouldn’t know. I’m not charging for your hit.” He played with his dagger, spinning it around his hand.
That was odd. No mercenary worth their two cents would ever do a job for free, and the asshole was a pro, as much as Mera hated admitting it.
“A bounty hunter without a bounty? Now I’ve seen everything,” Bast replied without amusement.
“The seer who foretold my employer’s doom was Karthana. Do you understand me now, my prince?”
Bast dropped his fists, his jaw hanging open. “Impossible.”
The assassin took advantage of his shock and ran at him again, grabbing another dagger from his belt.
Something in Bast changed. Tentacles of void sprouted from his skin, and fluttering flames of night rose around him like a bonfire. Pitch-black filled every corner of his eyes.
That wasn’t Bast anymore. It was the monster from the train wreck.
“At last, the death bringer arrives!” The assassin’s eyes turned fully purple as he ran, his fangs growing bigger and sharper.
Bast didn’t have daggers to fight back, even a gun or a sword. Nothing but his night and stars.
It wasn’t fair.
The two clashed violently, but Bast avoided the cuts and charges from the bounty hunter with ease. His night tentacles tried to wrap around the fae’s limbs, but the assassin was fast. His purple flames whipped at Bast’s leg, making a cut on his gray pants that showed a reddish patch of skin.
In return, Bast’s flames slammed on his right arm, leaving a torn sleeve and a red, bubbling line on their path.
Their magic fought like they did, brutally and without mercy.
Bast dodged one dagger swing, grabbed the bounty hunter’s fist, and punched the bastard’s elbow from the outside, breaking the bone. It stuck out from his skin, the same way the half of a sinking ship sticks out of water.
Mera winced at the sight.
The dagger fell to the floor. The assassin barely had time to scream before Bast swiveled around, grabbed his other wrist and punched his left elbow.
The second dagger clanked against the ground, joining its twin.
The fae bellowed as he fell to his knees, his teeth clenched. “Rae-henai, baku!”
Certain words in Faeish meant entire sentences. If Mera recalled correctly, “Rae-henai” translated to something akin to “I curse you forever.”
Yeah, fae had a penchant for the dramatic⸺and for cursing.
Taking one of the daggers from the floor, Bast played with it, spinning it in circles.
“Who sent you?” he asked again, stepping closer.
“I’ll never tell!”
Bast shrugged, and with one swift move, cut off the faerie’s left ear. The bounty hunter held his screams through clenched teeth.
“How about now?”
“Bast, stop!” Mera yelled, but her partner was gone, replaced by this bloodthirsty beast. “Let’s cuff him and take him down to the station!”
Tears formed in the bounty hunter’s purple eyes. A surge of his magic snapped at Bast, but her partner’s night tentacles slapped it away, before disappearing underneath his skin.
“I’ll ask again,” Bast warned. “Who sent you?”
When the assassin stayed silent, Bast cut off his remaining ear as if he were slicing a piece of steak.
Mera closed her eyes, but the sound of the blade slowly cutting flesh and cartilage was too loud, even if muffled by the faerie’s horrid screams.
Everyone knew that cutting a fae’s ear brought great shame upon them. Taking two seemed beyond cruel.
“Bast!” she called once he was done. “This isn’t you!”
“Oh, no, Mera.” He grinned wide at her, like a demon in the horror movies the Cap forbade her to watch when she was young. He threw the bleeding ear on the floor, like he was giving her a trophy. “There’s no running from myself.”
Bast turned and crouched, placing the belly of the dagger below his opponent’s chin. He lifted the tip of the blade, straining the fae’s neck.
“Shall we try a third time?”
“Maim me all you want. I’m sworn to the bounty.” Sweat mingled with the assassin’s tears, his teeth clenched. “Let me live in shame, brother, and I’ll come back for you. I’ll come for your human, too.”
Fear, cold and ruthless, gnawed at Mera’s chest. The faerie was goading Bast into killing him, and there was only one way to stop it.
“Detective Dhay, I’m placing you under arrest right now!”
“No, you’re not,” he countered without turning to her. “I can make this quick, brother of shadows. Just tell me what I need to know.”
The faerie gave him a mad laugh. “The king is dead. Long live the king.”
Bast stopped for a moment, his eyes widening. His expression became suddenly cold, merciless, and for the first time since they’d met, Mera truly feared him.
A freezing chill swam down her spine. “Bast, please,” she mumbled.
He didn’t listen, instead, he kept the tip of the dagger pressed against the assassin’s neck, his pitch-black eyes flat. “You leave me no choice.”
He thrust the blade forward.
Chapter 15
Somewhere in the past…
* * *
Only landriders without any magic inhabited the Isles of Fog, which was why they lacked forbidden zones around their territory.
These landriders—Professor Currenter called them humans—weren’t like the ones living in the continent. They didn’t have guns or electric fields. They led a rudimentary life, without the technology Mother so loved, the same technology she claimed one day would take Atlanteans back to land.
The islanders lived in huts or in the forests, communing with the nature around them. They also worshipped waterbreakers as their deities, which seemed silly to her.
“Why are we here, Mother?” she asked as she stood in the water beside the queen. The calm waves brushed past Mera’s waist and covered her mother up to her thighs. Mera could barely see the shore through the thick fog. “Can we go back? I’m supposed to train with Professor Currenter today.”
“We are here to take sacrifice,” the queen snapped, then focused on the beach, where four figures stood watching them, their forms blurry through the heavy mist.
The isles certainly deserved their name.
Mother opened her mouth and started singing a melodic, beautifully cruel tune. Soon enough, one of the figures stepped into the water and approached them.
A landrider stood before the queen. He was bigger than her, and his body looked as if it was made of stones. He simply stood there, entranced as he watched her with a foolish grin, adoration shining from his dazed brown eyes. “You’re so beautiful…”
Queen Ariella’s teeth turned sharp and pointy, which meant she was about to feed. She licked her lips and ran her hands through the human’s strong shoulders, chest and stomach, then addressed Mera without paying her any attention. “I’ve changed my mind, weakling. Poseidon has granted me a remarkable male… You will not witness sacrifice today. Go home.”
“Alone?” She observed the way they’d come—which was the entire ocean ahead—and shook. “What if I get lost?”
The queen rolled her eyes. “I intend to have fun with this one before eating it, so go home. Now!” she snarled when Mera didn’t move.
Mera couldn’t hold the sob that came out, or the cries that followed. She was barely a merling; she hadn’t braved the vast ocean on her own—it could be a scary place, even for a grown-up. Returning home alone might as well be her doom. “Mother, please…”
The queen grabbed her arms, her nails digging into Mera’s skin enough to draw blood. “What did I teach you? Say it!”
“T-the royal bloodline doesn’t cry.” She sniffed, feeling warm water trickling down her
cheeks.
Tears. Mera had only cried underwater, so she didn’t know how they felt as the drops strolled down her skin, sliding down the edges of her mouth. But these were tears, she knew it because Professor Currenter said they tasted salty.
Maybe the ocean was made of waterbreaker tears.
“I’m scared,” she croaked.
“You should be scared, but not of the ocean.” The queen rubbed her temples. “Fine.” She took the man’s hand and sunk into the water.
Mera followed.
Her mother plummeted ahead with the human, who kept smiling as bubbles left his nostrils and mouth.
“He’ll die, Mother!”
“That’s the point.” She didn’t turn to Mera as she kept sinking. “I wish for landrider flesh today and that’s what I shall have.”
Mera had heard about the sacrifices. Only royals had the permission to claim them, but few actually did it. As Professor Currenter once said, “We’re not savages, dear.”
Was her mother a savage, then?
Mera stopped midway, watching the human’s body begin to thrash. Terror broke through the spell, and he stretched his free hand to her, silently begging for his life.
She should hate landriders. They’d hunted down and cast away waterbreakers from their rightful place on land. Atlantea used to be split into two cities; one of land and one of sea.
Now there was only the sea.
Mother hated landriders with a fury, and so should Mera, but this human was innocent. He was an islander who’d never set foot in the continent. Besides, Queen Ariella hated a world of things, not all of them worthy of her wrath; Mera being the best example.
She doubted her little heart had enough space for Mother’s infinite rage.
That landrider wouldn’t meet his end in the heat of battle or as an old man; the two “best ways to go” according to Professor Currenter. He would die to become food, like the sharks, fish, and whales waterbreakers ate for sustenance.