Rive: Little Mermaid Retold (Shadow Immortals MC Book 1)

by Daniela Jackson

  “He’s going with Samael’s boys,” Ziggy says.

  “Fuck,” Amanda says and rises from her chair. Her fist slams on the table. “Did my son make the deal with that creepy dick?”

  “I won’t tell you.” Ziggy’s eyes sweep over me as though he’s trying to soothe me with his gaze.

  “He did.” Amanda starts pacing around the kitchen then she pulls me into her embrace and kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.”

  I feel like a knife has stabbed my heart. My subconscious tells me that something is wrong. Something will change dramatically. Something will change forever.

  Unexpectedly, the memory of my mother’s funeral flashes through my mind. A subtle sense of loss and sadness fills my veins. I feel like I’ve just lost something precious to me. Like I can’t find the way home. Like everybody has abandoned me and an endless cold void is surrounding me.

  My gaze shifts to Amanda’s.

  “Damn it,” Amanda growls and clutches my arm. “Listen to me, Sive. My son is a fucking dick, but I won’t leave you. Ever. You’re my daughter whatever happens. You’re staying with me. I’ll take care of you, sweetie.”

  My body shakes like the temperature has dropped massively and my heart pounds. I’m sure Amanda and Ziggy can hear my heartbeat.

  Amanda pulls back. “I will never speak to him again. It wasn’t Boulder’s wish. He wanted us to pack our clothes and go somewhere else. To start over. To leave this whole shit. Not to force Axel to marry someone he doesn’t want to marry.”

  I open my mouth to ask questions, but my voice stops in my throat and a wave of convulsions goes down my body.

  Amanda wraps her arms around me, and I cling to her. I think Axel won’t become my husband. I think he’s going to marry somebody else.

  Drowsiness fills my head and I gasp.

  “Axel is an idiot,” Ziggy says. “The girl is a sweet angel. He’s an idiot.”

  Chapter 25

  Sive

  Ziggy couldn’t stand my convulsive gasps and spilled everything out.

  At least, I can plan my future now.

  I think I will move into Amanda’s house then tidy up the attic in my gallery. There is enough space to accommodate a bedroom, a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. The money for adapting the attic might be a problem. I guess I should start stealing cars again and try to sell them.

  I also haven’t figured out how to deal with Axel when I see him next time. Maybe avoiding him is going to work for a few months until my broken heart heals. Except such a wound never heals.

  Axel is going to marry another woman. He wants to save the club, his boys, Amanda. Me. It doesn’t hurt less though.

  He broke my heart, but I want him to be safe. I will always want him to be safe.

  Amanda finishes plaiting my hair, and I force myself to eat breakfast. Ziggy flashes me a warm smile and sips his tea with rum. We are going to visit Boulder then clean up the gallery and hang my drawings.

  I feel like a dead flower with a mummified crown and nonexistent roots. My mind floats in a sad greyness. I follow Amanda’s commands like a machine and shudder each time she touches me.

  I cried for the whole night, and my eyes are puffy and red. Amanda pushes my head back and places two cooled bags of tea on my eyelids as I lean back in the chair.

  “It will help,” she says and strokes my cheek with her knuckles.

  I suck in a breath.

  “Don’t say anything, sweetheart,” Amanda soothes and supports my head in both her hands, standing behind me.

  We leave the house ten minutes later and go to the hospital.

  Boulder is still unconscious.

  The medical equipment beeps and drones around him, and Amanda bursts into tears.

  “He will be fine,” Ziggy says.

  Amanda takes Boulder’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “Come back to me, you old bastard. Don’t you dare leave me.”

  We are sitting around the hospital bed for half an hour, enveloped by the sounds and smells of the hospital’s environment. Ziggy smacks his lips and Amanda sighs then she nods at me and rises to her feet. She kisses Boulder’s forehead and helps Ziggy stand up.

  We go to my gallery. I sense that Amanda wants to be occupied with work so we just dampen the cloths and lose ourselves in the task. Ziggy is watching us from his chair.

  Neither Axel nor Zane calls us and later Maria pops in. Her eyes are as blood shot as mine.

  “Have you heard anything?” Maria asks.

  “No,” Amanda says in a gruff voice.

  “Mac and his boys went with them,” Maria says.

  “It’s big,” Amanda comments as her voice stirs. “It’s really big.”

  “It is, indeed,” Maria says as her face darkens and her naso-labial folds deepen. She crosses herself and glides her fingers over the silver cross on her cleavage.

  “We can only wait and hope that everything will be fine,” Amanda says and raises her hand with a mop.

  “Do you need a helpful hand?” Maria asks and Amanda hands her the mop.

  Ziggy brings us some food from the cafe across the road, and we start hanging my drawings late in the afternoon.

  After nine, Amanda, Ziggy and I go back to Axel’s house. The garage is silent like a graveyard. Sadness coats me like a cold fog. Tomorrow I’m moving in with Amanda.

  I enter the house first. My eyes sweep over the living area. My heart stops beating and I freeze with my palms facing the ceiling. A shooting pain courses through my chest. Owen is sitting in the couch. A contented smile parts his lips, but his eyes radiate with falseness.

  Amanda stands beside me as the rattle of Ziggy’s wheelchair resounds behind me.

  “Fuck,” Amanda mutters under her breath.

  Owen raises himself from his seat and spreads his arms, sauntering towards us.

  “Don’t touch her,” Amanda hisses.

  Ziggy stops at my other side and we steel ourselves like two enemy troops just before the battle starts.

  “Move away from my daughter, bitch,” Owen says in a cold voice.

  He corrects the collar of his white shirt and grins, but his face oozes pure ruthlessness.

  “She is not your daughter, you fucking dick,” Amanda says as her voice trembles.

  I jerk my head to the side and my eyes flick over the gun in Ziggy’s hand.

  “Get out,” Ziggy says, raising the gun.

  Owen chuckles. “Really? Are you going to shoot me, you old man?” He raises his hands in a warding gesture. “Angel, it’s time to go home. You’ve been very naughty.”

  Nausea rolls over me at his words.

  “She is at home,” Amanda says.

  “Don’t piss me off, bitch,” Owen says. “If you say one more word to me I’ll lock you away for a few years. Angel—“

  I clench my fists whilst Owen reaches to his back with his hand and takes out his gun, aiming it at Amanda.

  “Angel,” he repeats firmly and waves his other hand at me.

  I step forward, but Amanda grabs my wrist.

  “No fucking way,” Amanda says as her fingers dig into my flesh.

  Her hand is sweaty and it trembles.

  “Let’s end this circus at last,” Owen says, his eyes darkened by insanity.

  My heart thumps in my ears. The air around us thickens like a cloud of doom and pricks my skin like an electric current. Seconds turn into eternity.

  “The girl is staying with us,” Ziggy says.

  Owen aims his gun at him. “I think you’re going to die first, old man.”

  Rage awakens inside me. It grows in strength and floods me like a tsunami. I’m a black fury. And nothing more. My mind is sharp. My hands rise like two clawed axes. My body becomes taut and I spurt towards the psychopath in front of me. A gunshot tears at the air as I dig my fingers into Owen’s neck and sink my teeth into his arm. He grabs the back of my neck and squeezes it with his hand. The pain paralyses me a
nd my body hovers to the side. Something sharp digs into my cheek and a burning agony seizes my eye and chest, accompanied by the sound of glass breaking. I can’t breathe. My ears fill with Amanda’s scream and Ziggy’s growls. Another gunshot tears at the air. A red fog thickens in my head as I lever myself up on my elbows and my intact eye flicks over the shards of the coffee table beneath me. Every movement causes pain to spread across my skin like a thousand needles jab me at the same time. Blood covers everything—my arms, my surroundings, my vision, the sea of dark redness. I’m drowning into this redness.

  I jerk my head to the side and notice Owen sitting on Amanda’s chest. Strangling her. She fights desperately for her breath as gurgling sounds escape her mouth. Owen is going to finish her off. I crawl to the side as my palm touches a triangular piece of glass. I don’t think. My basic instinct guides me as close my fingers around this dagger-like shape. Amanda’s legs jerk to the sides and I know I have to act quickly. She will die in a few seconds. I crawl towards Owen and sweep my hand armed with the glass dagger. The edges of it tear the skin of my palm as it sinks into Owen’s back. He groans and his body arches, trembles then collapses onto Amanda. She shakes him off her and sits up, taking a sharp breath like she’s catching her life back.

  Owen’s body convulses for a few moments and red foam dribbles from his mouth. Then he stops moving. Silence layers us like snow layers the earth in winter.

  I roll on my side and my eyes meet Ziggy’s. He’s lying on his side, his arm bleeding.

  “Amanda,” he says with effort, “Amanda. Clean this mess and take her to the hospital. It’s all on me. They won’t throw an old git like me to jail.”

  A gloomy silence answers him.

  “Amanda,” he says louder and coughs. “Clean this shit and vanish with the girl. The cops will be here at any moment.”

  Slim arms lift me to a sitting position and I melt into Amanda.

  My whole being turns into ice. I’m numb. I feel nothing.

  Then there is pure blackness.

  My first conscious thought is that I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Amanda’s car. Redness is obscuring my right eye. Burning pain spreads across my body.

  Memories flash through my head. Amanda removed my fingerprints from the piece of glass I used to kill Owen. She wiped my blood from the floor and left Ziggy to deal with the police.

  She settles herself behind the steering wheel.

  “Everything is going to be alright,” she says.

  No—

  It’s not going to be alright.

  I killed a man.

  And Ziggy will take it upon himself.

  “You have to be brave now, sweetie,” Amanda says. “We will pretend that we’ve had a car accident, okay? Be brave.”

  Chapter 26

  Axel

  The hot water from a square showerhead streams down my back. It’s tinted with blood. Mine and my enemies’. I rest my palm against the black tiling of the modern shower cabin. I can still smell the odours of blood, vomit and urine. I can still hear shouts and groans of pain. Swear words. The sounds of skulls being broken. Gunshots. I can still see the brains leaking from the skulls and the blood spurting from the wounds. I will never forget that Samael decapitated the Cobras’ leader with a machete.

  The dick planned everything in detail. The Cobras’ leader invited him and five of his most trusted men to speak about the alliance in his house. Four very attractive whores attended as well. Samael paid them well to take care of the Cobras. Samael’s men caused a distraction inside the quarters and let my men in. The Cobras were too busy with fucking the women to realise what was going on. I remember their confused glances as they were pulling their dicks out of the whores. Then we smashed them.

  The Cobras’ quarters burned with twenty-five corpses inside.

  It’s over now.

  Two of Samael’s men are dead. One of Mac’s boys is dead. Gunner has a bullet in his arm. Zane has a broken wrist. Blaze lost three teeth.

  Samael’s doctor is looking after them.

  I have a vague impression that Samael sacrificed his own men to limit the death toll of mine. I guess I will never know what that evil dick really wanted to achieve.

  I step out of the cabin and reach for a towel then wipe the steam from the mirror hanging above a Victorian-style washbasin and look at my reflection. A deep cut runs across my face. I don’t resemble a human anymore. It’s the face of a monster. Soon, there will be more scars on my face than the smooth skin left.

  I wonder whether Sive will like me like this. Except it doesn’t matter anymore. She will hate me as soon as we see each other again.

  I slip into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and walk out of the bathroom to join Samael in his office downstairs. His house is gloomy like a mausoleum. The decor bombards my eyes with ornate details and intense colours. Heavy curtains bring in an impression of a medieval castle.

  Samael’s two bulls pass me in silence. Their faces are marked with bruising. We were killing together, after all.

  I open a double ornate door and enter a square room. Antique bookcases stand against the walls and velvet curtains obscure tall windows. Samael waves his hand at me. He’s seated in a leather couch. His daughter, Brianna, is standing behind him, her palm on the backrest.

  I only met her a mere three hours ago.

  She is a beauty I must admit. Dark hair cascades down to her large tits and her black eyes gleam with anger below the thick frame of her eyebrows. Her skin has an olive tinge. My wife to be. Very attractive to be honest. Except I want to twist her neck and throw her body into a swamp to rot.

  I settle myself into a wide armchair and Samael smirks at me.

  “My daughter is beautiful,” he says.

  “She is indeed,” I say.

  Zane sneaks into the room and takes a seat in a chair beside me. His tired bruised eyes sweep over Brianna and she winces in disgust.

  “I want the wedding to take place in two months,” Samael says.

  “Papa wants a church wedding,” Brianna adds with sarcasm. Her voice is melodious, and she speaks with a Spanish accent.

  “Sure, why not?” I say.

  Zane chuckles as an attractive maid with blonde hair walks in and puts a tray with drinks and snacks on a narrow antique table.

  “Thank you, Lizzie,” Samael says with an unexpected softness as Brianna rolls her eyes.

  The maid’s face turns bright red, and she escapes from the room like a horde of wolves is hunting her. Disgust rolls over me. The maid looks twenty at most and Samael is forty-four. I know he needs to fuck like any other man, but that’s just inappropriate.

  Brianna moves to sit in the couch, and I notice an A4 white envelope in her hand. She takes out some photos and sits beside Samael.

  Zane grabs a glass of orange juice and empties it in an instant.

  Brianna tosses the photos on the table. I lean forward and hold one from the top. It’s a shot of Sive in my embrace.

  “Are you going to keep her as your mistress?” Brianna asks.

  There is no jealousy in her voice, just a hint of resignation. I guess she’s as thrilled with the arrangement as I am.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say.

  “It matters to me,” she hisses. “I’m a mistress’s child and believe me, it never works. Neither for the mistress nor for the wife.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say in a sharp voice. “It really doesn’t matter what I would want to do. Sive will leave me the moment I’ll tell her about the arrangement. Somebody will look after her. That matters to me.”

  Zane will take care of Sive, and she will be happy with him. She will stay close to me. I have to ensure the club’s survival. This will be my goal, my life. My never-ending torment.

  It’s like that story Ma used to read to Zane and me. The little mermaid loses the prince because he marries the princess.

  Then everything boils and bubbles within me. My thoughts fight against one another like my mind is a
battlefield.

  I can’t lose Sive. No fucking way. I will marry Brianna, sealing our agreement, then I will find a way to kill Samael and get rid of my wife. I could kill her too, actually. Yes, I will kill her. I will twist her neck like I would twist a chicken’s neck and then I’ll bury her corpse where nobody can find it. The thought of her body being eaten by maggots gives me the kind of sick relief.

  “You love her,” Brianna says. “What future will we have together? Three lives broken.”

  “We will find a way to make it work,” I say and wink at her, sending her my most beguiling smile.

  The bitch winces like she knows my dark thoughts. “You think I’m stupid? You—“

  “You are too emotional, Brianna,” Samael says in an icy voice. “That’s enough. Behave. I’m losing my patience.”

  Brianna freezes at the tone of her father’s voice and her head drops. Her hands tremble on her lap.

  Zane turns his face towards me. “I need a word with you.”

  Samael nods at me, and we step onto a balcony. I lean against the stone railing as the scents of flowers settle in my nostrils.

  “If the things were different now,” Zane starts, “would you really marry Sive?”

  “I would. Zane, you know that. I proposed to her, remember?”

  “Would you be a faithful husband to her?”

  “I’m done with women. I want a wife, two kids and a barbeque once a month. I want to grow old with Sive, like Blaze with his lady, like Boulder and Ma. You know that, Zane. I’ve changed. I’m a different man now.”

  Zane nods at me and pulls back to the room as I follow him. We sit in the couch and Samael pours vodka into our shot glasses.

  “Does it matter whether Brianna will marry my brother or me?” Zane asks. “I’m the second after Axel. If he is unable to perform his duties as the president I’ll be the president.”

  “Do you want to volunteer, son?” Samael asks and lets out a hoarse chuckle.

  He’s clearly amused with my brother. Brianna stares at Zane with her jaw dropping, but I have an impression that she’s relieved.

  “I do,” Zane says. “I will be a good husband to your daughter. She will be happy with me.”