by C. S. Wilde
“You found something?”
“Yeah. Jim from IT picked up a deleted sound file. We were able to recover it from the cloud server, but it doesn’t shed any light to the case.”
She sat back on the sofa and pressed a button on her phone. “Jules, you’re on speaker.”
“Hey, assface,” Julian said from the other side.
Bast grinned ferociously. “Dickwart.”
Damn it, she’d taught him that word.
“Mera and I have been having so much fun,” Bast teased. “Just the other day, we had mind-blowing sex and—”
She slapped his arm so hard that Julian might’ve heard it.
“Ouch!” He rubbed the spot, but the grin on his face told her she should’ve hit him way harder.
“Mera, what the…” Julian stopped himself. “Nevermind.”
“He’s just being a nasty fae. We didn’t have sex.” Mera’s face burned so hot it might have melted. “Hit me with what you found, Jules.”
He was awfully silent for a moment, his anger cutting for miles and burning through the speaker.
“Sending it right away,” he finally spoke, his tone bitterly cold.
Fuck… Mera would have to deal with that later.
The wi-fi reception in Tir Na Nog was utter crap, but eventually she received the file. “All right, got it. I’ll call you back.”
The recording started with the rushed breaths of someone on the run. Finally, a strong voice blared through the speaker.
“My name is Zev Ferris, and I don’t trust the Tir Na Nog precinct to see this through. We, the light courts, have created a monster that even Captain Asherath can’t control.” He took a deep breath. “Fallon, if you ever hear this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making your life harder, for not standing up to August when he exiled you from Autumn. I know there’s little you can do to help me right now, and that this is partially my fault. I’m sorry for that, too. I’ll leave my phone here, in Clifftown. They’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Mera pressed pause as she and Bast stared at each other. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, but by the shock on Bast’s face, so had he.
“This might be the motherload, kitten,” he whispered, his eyes glinting with anticipation.
She pressed play.
“Someone is after my friend Sara Hyland. I believe it’s the father of her child. I took her to Tir Na Nog under my protection, but he must have found her and winnowed her back to Clifftown. I’m taking Sara away from Tagrad as soon as I locate her. To whomever listens to this: you must stop him. Only then will Sara be safe.”
Mera assumed he’d halted, since it sounded like he was catching his breath.
“I love her,” he stated simply.
A fact. A vow.
“You should know why I’m doing this,” he continued. “Why the king of the Summer Court is willing to risk everything for a human who isn’t carrying his own offspring.”
A car drove nearby and honked. Zev probably had no clue how to cross a street in Clifftown.
More hushed breaths followed, then a guy yelled in the distance, “Hey, watch where you goin’, asshole!”
“The location sorcery on my phone has taken me to Sara’s building,” Zev panted. Mera caught the sound of keys jingling in the background. “Find the mad seer. She speaks in riddles but listen carefully. If you’re worthy, she’ll give you what you need.” The click of a front door opening echoed. “I must make sure Sara is safe. May your Gods and mine have mercy on us both.”
End of the recording.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Mera stared at a befuddled Bast, still not believing what they’d heard.
“How can we find this mad seer?” she asked.
“Lucky for us, she lives in Tir Na Nog,” Bast said, deep in thought. “My precinct might not excel when it comes to technology, but they’ll find that recording soon enough, kitten.”
She nodded. “We need to hurry.”
Chapter 18
Somewhere in the past…
* * *
Mera floated close to the ocean’s sandy bottom, dread gnawing at her chest. A line of waterbreakers wearing fighting corals stood ahead in the distance.
Please don’t…
Battle cries suddenly erupted from their throats, their furious screams sending ripples across the water. They boosted forward and flung themselves into the forbidden zone.
“Mother, tell them to stop,” Mera begged, her entire body shivering even though she couldn’t feel cold—not unless she swam into the trenches, where there was no light, no life, nothing but darkness.
“No,” the queen replied, her tone colder than what the deepest part of the trenches must have felt like. “Their sacrifice is their duty.”
Her silver crown with sapphire beads matched her blue and green war corals, but not her skirt. The queen had once found a skeleton wearing a cape inside an ancient shipwreck—at least Professor Currenter had said the thing was called a cape. Since then, she wrapped it around her waist and used it in every big event in Atlantea.
The cape—now technically a skirt according to the professor—flowed lazily behind her, following the slow rhythm of the currents. Its algae-green color had nearly faded; the fabric tattered on the edges.
Mera once dared ask why Mother loved it so much.
“It comes from a dead landrider.” The queen had turned to her and bit into the head of a small fish, chewing the skin and bone with her sharp teeth. “I like it, just because.”
A thumping sound coming from behind jolted Mera from her memories.
She turned back to see hundreds of Atlanteans placing limestone blocks atop each other. Carriages led by giant seahorses took the heavy loads to the site, dropping them near a system of levers and ropes that helped raise the blocks and place them in neat stacks.
A metallic drone led one of the carts. The thing was shaped like a stingray and it moved with the same easy flow, its glowing blue eyes shining without a soul within.
Her mother loved experimenting with what landriders called technology. It was why Atlantea had strong structures able to withstand wild currents, weapons that could cut through the hardest of stones, corals that cast light into the darkness, and now these test vehicles Mother would be implementing soon.
Technology had also given them the scaled bodysuits that worked as a second skin. They’d been annoying at first, but Mera was used to her own deep green suit by now.
The workers, much like Mera, avoided looking at the carnage ahead, though they could hear the screams.
Everyone could.
Mother’s atrium would be finished soon. It faced that particular patch of the forbidden zone, which she said was the weakest area of the invisible wall.
“Watch,” the queen ordered.
Mera turned toward the horrors ahead, knowing the heavy price of disobeying her.
As soon as the soldiers pierced into the forbidden zone, a purple pulse swam through the barrier, disappearing as fast as it came. Instantly, purple and dark rust began consuming the soldiers’ bodies.
It was a slow process, but not slow enough to let them go far.
Their screams were no longer filled with bravery and resilience, but with terror and pain. Their horrid shrieks cut through the water and Mera’s flesh, piercing deep into her bones, settling into her essence forever.
Some soldiers dared swim back, but the rust ate at them before they could reach safety. Then they had no more throats to scream, no more skin and bone. The rust ate it all away. Their armors collapsed onto the sandy ocean floor as their ashes puffed into sluggish clouds.
Queen Ariella watched, her clear green eyes narrowed.
“Mother, please,” Mera croaked. “They are our people.”
“Yes, they are.” She held her silver triton high and the next batch of soldiers boosted forward, their brave screams an exact copy of their predecessors. “That’s why they sacrifice.”
Mera looked away, but her moth
er leaned down and grabbed her chin with long, piercing nails that dug into her skin. Mera could smell droplets of her own blood in the water.
The queen forced her head towards the massacre. “You will watch, weakling,” she hissed, poison and hatred in her tone. “You’ll watch it, and honor their sacrifice. It’s the least those brave souls deserve.”
She eyed her own daughter with disgust, but Mera was used to it by now. On a good day, that was how Mother regarded her—with contempt and disappointment. On a bad day…
Mera didn’t want to remember those. Still, she couldn’t bear the sight of so many deaths, not anymore.
“This is how you get to them, Mother,” she blurted, knowing common sense had abandoned her altogether. “You speak of honor and sacrifice, and yet you stay here and watch while others die for your ambition.”
Mother’s fingers dug harder into her skin, drawing more blood, and Mera never felt so small, so weak.
So incredibly powerless.
The queen squeezed harder, until Mera thought her jaw might grind into dust. “Does defying me bring you joy?”
No. Nothing did. And Mera was tired.
Three years ago, she’d promised Professor Currenter she wouldn’t defy her mother.
She couldn’t keep that promise anymore.
Not today.
“You’re a fraud,” she managed through clenched teeth.
Queen Ariella’s green eyes widened, the glassy beads reflecting the ocean around them, and the sheer fear in Mera’s face. The beating of a lifetime would be waiting for Mera back home, inside the beautiful façade of their silver palace.
“Do you hate me, daughter?” she asked with genuine curiosity, never letting go of Mera’s jaw.
Yes.
Mera didn’t understand why she couldn’t say it out loud. Maybe she feared the beating that would follow. Maybe she was terrified she didn’t actually hate her mother.
Maybe both.
“You’re weak and unworthy of my throne,” Queen Ariella snapped upon her silence. “Yet, you are your father’s daughter, and my hands are tied.”
“Liar,” Mera spat. “I’m your only remaining heir. That’s why you don’t kill me. It has nothing to do with who my supposed father is.”
Her mother chortled as she released her. Mera drew in a big breath through the gills behind her temples and near her ribcage, glad that the ocean took away her tears.
“Wrong. I can always make more of you. I always have, in fact,” the queen said with amusement. “All I need is to take one of the servants into my bedroom, and soon enough, I could give you a brother or sister.”
Mera frowned, not knowing how taking a servant into her chambers could give her mother an offspring, but she made a note to ask Professor Currenter later.
“Maybe they would be weak like you,” the queen continued. “Maybe they would be strong and challenge me, like many of your dead siblings. It’s always a gamble.” She narrowed her eyes at Mera. “Yet, you intrigue me in your weakness, daughter, for it is also your strength. I want to see how far you’ll go before I chop off your head.”
Mera had never felt so alone, so insignificant. Anger swam through her, cold and sharp.
Merciless.
“Did you tell Atlantea my brothers and sisters were children of Poseidon, too?”
“Perhaps I did.” A cruel smirk hooked up on the left side of her cheek. “You’re too smart for your own good, weakling. Now, watch.”
Mera turned to see empty war corals falling to the ocean floor, cutting through clouds of ashes. Once again, her mother raised her triton, lowering it, and the third batch of merfolk went screaming to their deaths.
“Landrider magic has limits,” the queen explained with a shrug. “Our magic, however, is taken from the water, and water is all around us. It’s also everywhere on the surface. This is why most landriders, magical or not, perish when faced with the macabre.”
Mera frowned as she watched the soldiers crumble into dust. “You’re trying to see what it takes to break the barrier.”
Professor Currenter had once said that facing Queen Ariella was like staring at an untamed great white shark. He was right, of course, and yet, for the first time in her life, Mera spotted pride behind her mother’s cruel, lifeless eyes.
“You take after me, daughter.” She smirked. “Much as you hate it.”
Bile swirled in Mera’s gut, a bitter taste that went up to her mouth.
“Land fae are also made of magic,” she countered quietly. “Professor Currenter said we used to be known as sea fae once. It’s land fae magic in that barrier, Mother.”
“We are nothing like them,” the queen spat. “And their magic is weak. You’ll see.”
Atlanteans kept shooting themselves into their deaths. Mera’s shock and anger had slowly vanished, replaced by a deep numbness. She might as well be watching baby crabs killing themselves for no reason.
Mera hated it; hated the waterbreaker she was becoming.
Mother’s masterpiece.
The fourth batch was getting ready. They didn’t carry the same foolish bravery as their brothers and sisters who’d perished, and still, they would fling themselves into the forbidden zone without second thought.
For honor. For Atlantea.
For their queen.
“Is their blood worth your experiment?” Mera pointed toward the forbidden zone. “What if it takes all of us to break it?”
“Unlikely.” Her mother raised her shoulders, reddish-brown hair flowing sluggishly around her. “It will break before then. As I’ve said, fae or not, landrider magic is weak.”
“You’re wrong,” she muttered. “We’ll all be dead before the barrier shatters. Perhaps you’ll be happy when you’re the last waterbreaker left in the sea.”
The queen glared down at Mera, and her nostrils flared.
Ariella Wavestorm had tried to end Mera’s life before—and rather often—but this time she would truly do it.
“They are sacrificing themselves for their queen.” Her mother slapped her face with her free hand, then clawed at Mera’s chest, drawing blood. “They understand this is how we bring our vengeance upon the surface people.”
The fleshy rips on her skin stung against the ocean’s salt. Mera held the cry and the tears that pushed out as she put a hand over the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but her hand wasn’t big enough to cover the cuts.
She was just a merling who hadn’t even reached her blooming years. And yet, she’d already learned how to mask pain.
Yes, Mera was young, but she felt old and withered.
The queen raised her chin and her arm, sending the final batch into the forbidden zone. “Sometimes I wonder if you truly came out of me.”
Mera hated that the words hurt. She didn’t want to be like her mother, and if that meant she was weak and pathetic, then great.
The rejection still stung, though.
“Landriders banished us centuries ago,” Mera pushed, hoping common sense would win over her mother’s bloodthirst. “We’re happy here, and Atlantea is thriving under your rule. Why waste lives trying to conquer the surface?”
The queen turned to her at once, and Mera jerked back, her heart beating madly in her chest. Her wounds bled faster.
“Because it all belongs to us!” She kept swimming forward while Mera swam back. “Water and land, they’re both Poseidon’s gift to us, not them! The surface is ours, and we must reclaim it!” Madness flooded her mother’s beady green eyes, the same eyes Mera had inherited. The queen slapped her left cheek so violently, Mera’s skin and bone thumped. “Do not question me again, or I swear to you, it will be the last thing you do.”
“But—”
“Go away, merling.” She waved her hand, dismissing her. “Go away, before I end you.”
And she would. She truly would.
Mera had lost count of the times her mother had beaten her to the edge of unconsciousness, only to be stopped by the mercy of one of her advis
ors.
Like Professor Currenter.
* * *
“You shouldn’t speak against your mother, princess,” he said later that day, as he rubbed a concoction of mud and algae over the wounds. “She wants war, and war is what she’ll have.”
“She’s killing us.” Mera winced as the concoction burned against the cuts.
Blue wisps of light flowed from the professor’s hands into her bruises, numbing the pain. “Those soldiers volunteered for the task.” He finished the patch and wrapped a strip of algae around Mera’s chest. “There you go. Give it half a day and you’ll be as good as new, little fry.”
Mera shook her head, glancing out the round window of Professor Currenter’s cave. “What happens when she runs out of soldiers?”
“Your mother is smart.” He put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “The real question is, what happens when she runs out of expendable soldiers?”
“I pray to Poseidon that day never comes.”
Professor Currenter smiled sadly. “There’s not enough prayer in the seven seas to quench the queen’s thirst for blood, my dear princess.”
The atrium was finished in record time.
Limestone pews piled atop each other, forming a half circle that faced the ocean ahead. The invisible entrance to the forbidden zone.
The pews were packed with merfolk, who watched with either dread or anticipation. Mera couldn’t tell how many supported her mother’s actions, and how many disapproved of them, but an awfully great number considered the mass killings a necessary evil to progress.
Mera despised them the most; those Atlanteans who raved for the queen, for the progress she brought to the sea, but ignored the price.
Queen Ariella swam forward and out of her seat, floating before the audience. Down below, soldiers pressed a crowd of waterbreakers into a tight circle.
“Merfolk of Atlantea,” the queen’s voice echoed throughout the space, boosted by the small device attached to the corner of her mouth. “We are here today to honor the sacrifice of our brothers and sisters!”