Witches of the Deep (The Memento Mori Witch Trilogy Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  Rawhed, frantically scribbling one word over and over: relic, relic, relic…

  Tobias went numb. That’s what Jack was searching for in Maremount. Jack was condemned, too—sentenced to Druloch’s eternal hell. He was looking for his own salvation, desperate for some kind of relic to save himself. He’d torn Maremount apart searching for this thing.

  All these years, Rawhed had been looking for a way out, just like Tobias. What horrors would a person commit to avoid eternal agony? Tobias didn’t want to think what sort of monster he himself would become with this curse hanging over him for hundreds of years.

  The image rippled, settling again on Jack, lying in bed. His face was wan and bruised, but he still breathed. Munroe sat in the corner of the room.

  Tobias’s heart stopped. Munroe. That meant Jack was still alive. And somehow, he knew the key to Tobias’s salvation.

  “Not him,” he breathed. “He’s not the way.”

  Estelle’s eyes met his. “He’s the only answer the cauldron will show us. Believe me, I tried. I don’t know what that book means, but it looks like Jack does.”

  Tobias felt sick, and his head swam. He stumbled back from the cauldron, fire rising in his chest. This can’t be the only way. The cedarwood smoke felt suddenly suffocating. He needed fresh air. “I need to get out of here.”

  She touched his arm. “Are you okay?”

  All the nobles Jack had tortured, all the Tatters he’d slaughtered—he’d been looking for information, desperately searching for an escape. Eden had died to save Jack’s soul.

  Tobias couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t benefit from Eden’s death, too. What would he be like if he stayed alive for centuries, his mind warping with revulsion whenever he imagined his afterlife? Would he become the same twisted monster, burning cities to find what he wanted? His heart hammered against his ribs. I’m not like him. I won’t become a murderer.

  Estelle gripped his arm. “You don’t look well. Sit down. Let me get you a drink.”

  The room was too hot. He was burning up. “I need to get out of here.”

  “You don’t seem to be taking this well.”

  “He killed my girlfriend. He slaughtered the Tatters. He burned our neighborhood. He left blood in the streets, and bodies dangling from the gallows. I’m not like him.”

  “No one said you were.”

  “I mean I can’t go to him for help.” How hot is that fire, I wonder? “I’m going out.”

  She held tight to his hand. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No,” he snapped, yanking his arm free. “I need to be alone.” He hurried to the door, mind reeling.

  “If you’re not back soon,” Estelle growled after him, “I’m coming for you.”

  40

  Tobias

  He flung open Estelle’s door, eyes darting to the gathering storm clouds. Another squall was rolling in, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be around her any longer, nor did he want to run into Oswald. Oswald had said the Tatters needed Jack, and whether or not that was true, Tobias needed Jack now. And he hated himself for it.

  Thunder rumbled through the rocky hills, and the hairs rose on the back of his neck at the drop in temperature. Jamming his hands into his pockets, he stalked the winding path that led from the village into the wild forests surrounding Dogtown.

  What had been the point of anything he’d ever done? He’d saved Fiona, only to lose her to the Picaroons. He’d carved himself to avenge Eden’s death, but her murderer still lived. And if Tobias wanted to avoid eternal damnation, he’d have to go crawling to his worst enemy. At best, his only hope of salvation lay with a psychopathic philosopher he’d been trying to kill. Even if Tobias betrayed Eden’s memory and went running to Jack, there was a strong chance he’d get nothing out of it.

  Everlasting agony. He couldn’t fathom the idea of burning for a few minutes, let alone eternity. His mind burned with feverish thoughts. Maybe the gods are the real enemy, and we’re just their playthings.

  Leaves rustled as fat drops of rain poured from the sky. Jack has been searching for the loophole… Anything to get out of everlasting torment, unending agony…

  Gods, couldn’t he stop thinking for one night? He craved oblivion, wanted to run with the stags, or to sleep quietly in the long grasses and mulberry bushes. He wanted out of his own mind.

  The earthly gods shouldn’t have bothered giving humans Angelic. People like Tobias and Jack only screwed everything up. They’d have been better off with no language at all to twist their minds, better off living like crows and moths, flitting between trees in search of food or a mate, nothing more.

  He pushed his rain-soaked hair off his face. Where was that damned woodwose now? He wanted to lose himself in the forest again. Closing his eyes, he felt the rain trickle down his cheeks. He breathed in the earthy smell of the oaks.

  A flicker of hope sparked in his mind. He was running out of time, but he could still end it all. After all, he hadn’t signed the contract yet, and he didn’t turn eighteen for another week. There was still time to avoid his sentence. If he died now, Emerazel wouldn’t get his soul. What if he swam out to sea? Even with Emerazel’s strength, he’d grow tired in the storm at some point. His lungs would fill with salt water, and he’d drift into quiet oblivion at the bottom of the ocean. There were lots of ways he could die.

  Lightning speared the sky, singeing the air. He hadn’t even realized where he’d been walking, but he’d come to the ash clearing, where he’d once felt at home with the trees and moss, and heard the gentle thudding of a sparrow’s heart. A sharp pang of sadness sliced him in two. He wasn’t ready to leave this world and all its ragged beauty behind.

  The fires roiled deliciously in his chest, and his eyelids fluttered. He couldn’t let go yet. He still had one more week. Until the last moment before the hellhound came for him, he would take the time to savor every last wilting beach rose and craggy rock. This was all he had left. One week.

  He whispered a spell, and the aura crackled hot through his blood. He held out his hand, and a perfect sphere of fire drifted from his fingertips, floating up to the blackened skies, its beauty breathtaking.

  Emerazel’s power ignited his body, and he breathed in the smell of ash and briny earth. With the fire goddess inside him, he could still lose himself for one night. His skin grew hot, and he stalked again through the trees, with only the sound of rain and his own pulse roaring in his head.

  41

  Fiona

  For three days, she’d left her room only when required. Silently in the early mornings, she ran with Lir. During their swims, she didn’t utter a word. Not that Lir seemed to care.

  Through mealtimes, she’d wordlessly pushed her food around her plate, trying to force out the images of bloodstained hands swirling in her mind. She wasn’t even sure what they’d done with Rohan’s body, and she didn’t want to know. At least Lir hadn’t made her use a sword again.

  As she’d been doing for most of the day, Fiona lay on her bed. She could tell by the goose bumps on her arms that a storm was rolling in, and the hair rose on the back of her neck. She had a sudden longing to take to the skies. It had been too long, lying here stagnating in her bedsheets.

  Throwing off her covers, she wiped a hand across her cheek, drying a rogue tear. What she needed was reassurance. She knew it had been an accident but somehow still felt like a murderer. If Tobias had been here instead of Lir, it would be different. She could almost feel his warm, masculine arms and his soothing, earthy smell.

  What was he doing now? She was a jerk for leaving him so abruptly, right after he’d just learned he was doomed to an afterlife in the inferno. His absence ate into her like acid, leaving a hollow in her chest.

  She stood, pulling on a freshly laundered shirt and tying a scarf around her waist. Maybe she could talk to Lir. He wasn’t like Tobias, but it was worth a shot. After all, he was supposed to be her guide here, wasn’t he? Maybe he could help her sort through the
chaos of her mind.

  Barefoot, she padded to his room and knocked on his door.

  “Yes?”

  She pushed open the door to find Lir leaning back against his pillow, pen poised above his notebook.

  “Can I come in?”

  He straightened. “What do you want?”

  Not exactly the welcome she’d hoped for. “I just don’t understand what happened with Rohan. Do you think it was…” She wasn’t entirely sure what her question was. “Do you think I’m responsible for killing him?”

  Lir frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

  “I stabbed him. You said it was safe—”

  He slammed his notebook shut. “We’ve been over this. I said the sword was safe, but I was wrong, because someone poisoned it. What more do you want from me? You’ve taken up with a group of murderers by your own choice. If you’re looking for me to make you a cup of tea and tell you everything will be fine, you’re in the wrong place. I’ve never told you everything would be fine. In fact, I’ve told you that you were making a terrible choice, and you stayed on the ship anyway. None of the other men want you here. Maybe if you’d listened, Rohan would still be alive. So I suggest you go back to your room and figure out what you need to do to survive here. You’re fragile, and your chances aren’t good.”

  His words hit her like fists, and she backed away. She’d disrupted everything. If it weren’t for her, Rohan would still be alive.

  Half in a daze, she found herself climbing the stairwell to the deck. Large waves rocked the ship, and the boards were slick. Thunder rattled the dark skies. Storm clouds tumbled over the horizon, and she had a sudden desperation to get the hell out of here.

  Closing her eyes, she muttered the transformation spell, and the snapping of her bones felt like a blessed relief. She took off.

  Soaring over the churning ocean, cold winds rippled over her wings. She’d killed Rohan. She’d run away from Dogtown to escape her fate, but of course she couldn’t. Wasn’t that what all those Greek plays were about? She’d been destined to murder. Even Estelle had seen that.

  Lir hadn’t given her permission to leave, but she didn’t care. Maybe she wouldn’t go back. Maybe she’d risk a mauling at the hands of the werewolf queen to escape the Picaroons.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around Tobias. She was an idiot for leaving him in the first place. But she wasn’t the same person anymore, and maybe he wouldn’t see her the same way. She’d stabbed one of her friends with a poisoned sword, and there was blood all over her hands.

  An image flashed in her mind: Tobias’s panicked eyes when she’d declared she was leaving. She’d abandoned her friends for a pirate ship full of sociopathic demons. Maybe she belonged among the outcasts, but the loneliness cut her to the bone.

  She circled lower over Dogtown, enviously eyeing the warm lights flickering in the windows of crooked houses. Did they know how good they had it here? Probably not. Like an idiot, she’d never appreciated her own home when she had one.

  She swooped lower still, swinging past Estelle’s house and Tobias’s open window. She sensed the contours in his room, but apart from a bug or two, nothing moved within. No heart beating, no lungs drawing breath. Disappointment welled in her. Where is he?

  Circling Estelle’s mansion, she felt a surge of panic. Estelle had been after him as a mate. What if she’d succeeded? But that was a stupid thing to worry about. It was none of Fiona’s business. She’d left him here.

  She flew south, swooping lower over the trees. A strong aura crackled through the woods, drawing her in. Someone with powerful magic prowled through the oaks. Someone whose skin rippled with heat. Tobias was prowling alone through the forest like some kind of beast.

  Something seemed strange, but her heart thrilled as she flew faster through the branches, circling over his head for a moment. He paused, his eyes meeting hers. Rain soaked his clothes and hair, and his shirt clung to his muscled chest. Transfixed by his otherworldly beauty, she gazed at the sharp cheekbones and the blood-red glow in his eyes. His gaze locked on her with a predatory stillness. At times like this, when she caught him off guard, it was almost like a mask of humanity had fallen away.

  Disturbed by his feral gaze, she nearly forgot to transform. It’s still him, she told herself, willing her bones and muscles back to their human form with an agonizing lurch. She hunched over, clutching her gut, before glancing up at her friend. He prowled closer with that unnatural grace that took the breath out of her. For an instant she wondered if he’d lost his mind entirely, and she took a step back, knocking into an oak tree. She didn’t want to be on a crazed fire demon’s bad side. Not one with his strength.

  His eyes raked over her body, lingering on her bare legs, before rising again to meet hers.

  “Tobias?” she said in barely a whisper.

  His chest heaved, and the blaze in his eyes subsided, leaving behind dark, glistening pools.

  “Hi,” she said. God, it was good to see him. “I’m still alive.”

  “I knew you would be.” He stepped closer, lightly touching her shoulder. “But what’s wrong?”

  She took a deep breath. “I think there might be something wrong with me. I think I might be a little crazy. I’ve done something bad.”

  “What did you do?”

  She couldn’t bear to tell him yet. “Something I can’t undo.”

  “That sounds remarkably familiar.” He inched closer. “Is that what made you come here?”

  “I wanted to see if you were okay. You know, with the whole… hell thing.”

  “Apparently, I need the relic.”

  “What the hell is the relic?”

  “I have no idea. Something that will help me. Something that… other philosophers are also looking for.”

  “We’ll find it for you.” Drinking in his familiar smell, she felt such a deep relief that hot tears stung her eyes. She wanted to throw herself into his arms so badly that she could hardly put a sentence together. “It’s really good to see you.”

  Inhaling deeply, he brushed his fingertips against her cheek. His touch sent a thrill over her skin, and he stared at her as if he hadn’t seen another human being in centuries. “I don’t want to leave you yet.”

  She had no idea what he meant, but stood transfixed by him, her breath coming faster. He trailed his fingertips down her neck, igniting her skin with his touch, inspecting her throat like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “What do you mean, ‘leave me’?”

  Closing his eyes, he slid his hand around the back of her neck. Her heart pounded faster. How many times had she imagined him looking at her like this? She inched closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was excruciatingly conscious of every place where his skin met hers.

  Tobias’s fingers trailed down her back, his touch impossibly light, but electric. Leaning into her, he brushed his warm lips against hers. Just a hint of a kiss was all it took to send flames through her body, weakening her knees. She wanted to pull him into a deeper kiss, but his mouth drifted lower, grazing the crook of her neck, teeth skimming her skin.

  He kissed her neck, and her breath caught in her throat as she melted into him. Yes. He lifted his face, pressing his warm mouth to hers, kissing her with a hungry intensity, like this was his last moment on earth.

  Her fingers roamed up his shirt, over his smooth, hot skin. She wanted all of him. She wanted to rip his shirt off and push him into the dirt. She wanted—

  He pulled away, head cocked to listen to something in the woods.

  “Why did you stop?” It came out more annoyed than she intended.

  “I heard something,” he whispered.

  “What?”

  “Estelle. She’s coming.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She had to get out of here, but she was unwilling to let go, and his warm body stayed pressed against hers. She stroked his soft neck, just below his jawline.

  He trailed his thumb along her cheek. His eyes gl
istened. “Maybe we should go somewhere else. Out of Dogtown.”

  “Where?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Something grated in the back of her mind. “Why is Estelle coming?”

  “She’s looking for me.”

  Fiona frowned. “And why is she looking for you?”

  “No time to explain. We should leave. If she finds you with me—”

  “She’ll be jealous?”

  He averted his eyes, looking flustered. “Something like that.”

  I knew it. “Did something happen with you two?”

  He lowered his eyes. “Just a kiss. There was a woodwose—”

  Fiona felt the breath knocked out of her. “Actually, I don’t need to know.” She dropped her arms from his neck. “It’s none of my business. I wasn’t even around. I’m sure she’s very exciting.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said that last thing, and she hated herself for the way her voice broke. She was failing at nonchalance.

  “It was only a kiss. She just happened to be there at the right time. The wrong time, I mean.”

  And what just happened with us—was that only a kiss? “It’s fine. I actually have to get back to the ship. Anyway, I probably just happened to find you at the wrong time, too.”

  Before she could make herself feel any worse, she chanted the transformation spell, and black wings ripped from her back. She lifted off into the iron-gray clouds.

  42

  Jack

  He woke at dusk, the cold light slanting in through thick glass. There was no point anymore. If only he could sleep, quietly and eternally.