by C. S. Wilde
Bast gave him the fakest of grins. “Going somewhere?”
“Things are coming to place, Bast!” Happiness beamed from Mera’s smile, and Danu, how he wanted to kiss her. “Doctor Stone found a vaccine. Green’s plans are ruined, and we got a lead! Wish us luck!”
“You don’t need luck.” Stepping closer, he took her hand, his fingers tangling between hers. “Nevertheless, take care of yourself, yes?”
She blinked at him, as if he’d somehow offended her. Stepping back, she jerked away from his touch. “I will.”
What the…
“Not here,” she snapped through their link. “Do you want the Cap to separate us?” Genuine concern flashed in Mera’s eyes, a cold anguish echoing through their bond.
A part of Bast knew she made sense, that when it came to logic he should listen to her. Another part of him, however, kept whispering she didn’t love him, didn’t accept their bond. That she’d denied him.
The cruel akritana would crush his heart with her bare hands, the darkness knew it. His night saw through her, through the lies she’d told him.
“You’re ashamed of us,” he stated the obvious.
“Never! But we can’t tell others we’re together, or we’ll be reassigned. People are suspicious enough. We have to be careful.”
He glanced at Julian. “Tell him, at least. Since he’s your oldest friend. Tell him, if you trust him the way you claim you do.”
“Bast, stop being so childish.”
Red-blaring anger piled up on his fear, a dangerous combination, really, but Bast didn’t care. “It’s not me. It has never been me.”
“I don’t want to lose you, dickwart. Is that so hard to understand?” She watched him with suspicion. “You don’t seem like yourself. Is everything all right?”
Yes, he didn’t seem like himself, but at the same time, exactly like himself. His blood sizzled, as it always did when the darkness took over him.
“Control it,” Leon’s voice echoed in his mind, but the nightblood boiled in his veins, its voice louder than Big Brother’s.
Some said the physical sealing of a bond could bring up fits of jealousy, a primal need to establish territory. It sounded awfully animalistic, and yet… could this be why his darkness roared under his skin?
He had no fucking clue, but it didn’t matter. His night whispered that Mera had to prove herself to him, and prove she would. She had to.
“Tell him, Mera.”
“No!” She huffed in exasperation. “Now is not the time.”
“You denied me.” He swallowed, the realization hitting him hard, though it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t the truth. The rational side of him knew that, but right then, his coherent mind seemed so very distant. “Min hart, thu esses nuun.”
“Of course I am your hart! Bast, what the hell are you talking about?”
He didn’t explain. He had to get out of there, focus on something else.
Stop feeding the madness.
Without warning or goodbye, he winnowed out of the precinct.
Chapter 20
“You okay?” Julian asked as they headed toward the ninth district, one of the main hubs for the Underworld, and also, where Emma said they could find Rob. “You and the pixie exchanged some intense glares back at the precinct.”
“We’re fine,” she lied.
Bast’s nightblood had taken over, no question about that, but Mera needed to ensure he was okay. She’d been tugging at their link desperately on the way to district nine, trying to hide her panic from Julian, but Bast didn’t reply.
“Pick up, you ass!”
Images of his brother Leon flashed in her mind, and then one of Bast, his eyes beady black, his white hair swinging wildly around him as he bared his teeth, showing his sharp fangs.
A demon of night.
She shook the thought away. “Bast! You better answer, or else!”
He didn’t take the bait.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Julian pushed. “You and Sebastian seemed agitated. Also, he kind of touched you inappropriately.”
“Inappropriately?” She stopped and turned to him, red, burning anger clouding her vision. “Sebastian Dhay can touch me any way he damn wants. And need I remind you that you and I kissed? How appropriate was that, Julian?”
He stared at her, his mouth hanging open.
“Don’t be a hypocrite,” she continued. “You keep saying I shouldn’t be with Bast because he’s my official partner. Well, I shouldn’t be with you either! You were my partner, and you are my partner right now. There’s no freaking difference! So I’m allowed to behave inappropriately with you, but if I behave the same way with Bast, it’s wrong? Fuck that!”
“I just meant—”
“You meant nothing!” Mera snapped, the truth of her words hitting her at once. Taking a deep breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, things are complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
He blinked, his neck strained as if he was trying to swallow something bitter. “You and Bast are Hollowcliff’s finest. What hangs on your shoulders—”
“It’s none of your business.”
Granted, if things went south with Bast, the consequences would be monumentally worse than if she’d chosen Julian. Yet, Mera couldn’t force a feeling that didn’t exist anymore. It wasn’t fair to him, or her.
Spinning in a circle, she threw her hands in the air, knowing Julian had a perfectly valid point. A lot did hang on the shoulders of Hollowcliff’s finest.
“Maybe I’m making mistakes, but they’re mine, Jules. Not yours.”
“Copy that.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “As a friend, though, I have to warn you that being with him is a bad idea.”
“I know. It’s a terrible idea.” Stepping closer, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “In Lycannie, they have a saying about people shedding their skin on a daily basis, constantly turning into someone new.”
“Your point?”
“The Mera you used to love doesn’t exist anymore. You’re not the Julian I loved, either. But you’ll always be my friend, even if you hate me for being a total ass to you.”
“I could never hate you, Mer.” Laying his hand atop hers, he watched her with care. “I kind of behaved like an ass, too. So, things didn’t work between us, but we’ll always have each other, no matter what. It’s a promise.”
They stayed that way for a moment, until a scent of old strawberries and musky red wine reached her nose.
“Am I interrupting?” the sultry voice inquired.
Mera turned to see Emma clad in a long black cloak that covered her from head to toe. The vamp wore small, round sunglasses that might have been fashionable back in the industrial era, and her blond hair was tied in a chic, low ponytail.
Stepping away from Mera, Julian cleared his throat. “Glad you could join us.” He nodded to the way ahead, which opened into a vast concrete courtyard.
People milled about, taking pictures of the beautiful day and the riverside, while others sat scattered around the space. Some enjoyed the sun; some ate their lunches and chatted eagerly.
The docks, as district nine was called, had been abandoned after the city’s modernization project. Same as district ten. Nowadays, most ports were located on the western part of the city, on the opposite side of the river Tigris.
The old tower, a black brick construction from the early days, stood at the mouth of the courtyard as a sort of guard to the entrance. The pointy roof had crumbled years ago, so all that remained was the bulky black block.
One man leaned his back against the base of the tower while watching people pass by. Scrawny and unkempt, he had olive skin and thinning brown hair.
Sometimes he would step forward and mutter something to passersby, then pull a small plastic bag from his pocket. Those he approached, however, shook their heads and hurried away.
Emma pointed to him, her hands covered in black gloves. “That’s Rob.”
“Tr
ying to do business in daylight?” Julian frowned. “That’s stupid.”
“Hatchford banished the idiot from this turf, but his people only start settling in after six. I suppose Rob found a loophole in the agreement.”
“The entire courtyard is Hatchford’s turf?” Mera asked.
The vamp gave her a wicked grin, her white teeth contrasting with her black lipstick. “For now, yes.”
Mera guessed Emma wouldn’t let it be his territory for long. “It seems pointless to scout for customers during the day, especially out in the open like this.”
“There’s always demand here, albeit scarcer than at night.” Emma shrugged. “The old docks are one of the most famous hubs for the Underworld. They’re bound to attract a certain type, even during the day.”
Mera narrowed her eyes at Rob. The man wore sunglasses, even though he stood in the tower’s shadow. Her siren’s sharp senses caught the whiff of moths and aging wood wafting from him.
Something seemed off, but she couldn’t pinpoint what.
Turning to them by chance, Rob spotted Emma. He saluted her mockingly, before shoving both hands in his pockets and waltzing away. He must think the vamp brought Mera and Julian there to scare him off. The idiot probably had no clue he was actually their target.
“Thanks, Em.” Julian patted the vampire’s shoulder. “We’ll take it from here.”
Mera nearly scoffed.
Inappropriate touching, huh?
They followed Rob from a distance, slowly at first, mirroring his pace. The man walked as if he didn’t have a care in the world, and at some point, he even began whistling. That was, until he turned back to see Julian glowering at him.
Realization dawned on Rob as he removed his sunglasses, revealing bright, lime-green irises. He cocked his head to the right, as if, somehow, he finally recognized Mera.
“Crap,” she grunted under her breath. “He’s dead.”
Tossing his glasses away, Rob bolted from them, his speed close to a freaking cheetah’s.
Mera and Julian ran after him. Thank heavens the streets were rather empty, but Rob was too fast. They would lose him soon.
Julian already lagged behind, while Mera’s legs burned with each step. Humans couldn’t keep up with that speed, and soon neither would Mera. So she pulled out her gun and aimed.
She had to be quick. Missing the shot was out of the question.
“Mer, what are you doing?” Julian’s voice boomed from behind. “He’s our only lead!”
“Exactly!”
She pulled the trigger twice.
Flesh and bone splintered from Rob’s calves. The man stumbled forward, before slamming into the concrete. He didn’t yelp in pain, just rolled onto his back, waiting for her to approach.
“You have good aim,” the walking dead remarked through gritted, yellowing teeth, his focus on the sky above.
Raising one eyebrow, Mera shot twice again, this time where his shoulder muscles connected with his arms.
Rob held back a scream.
Sure, incapacitating his arms and legs might be overkill, but when it came to the undead she wouldn’t take any risks.
“Your nerve endings still work? Remarkable, isn’t it, Detective?” She turned to Julian, who had just reached them.
He bent over, taking long breaths. “Y-yes. Remarkable.”
“We have some questions for you.” Mera crouched on her knees next to Rob, then aimed her gun’s muzzle between his eyebrows. “And you’re going to answer.”
The asshole seemed to be in fairly good shape. If not for his green eyes, Mera wouldn’t have guessed he was dead.
Rob raised his head, pressing his flesh against the gun. “I’m not afraid. You need something from me, Detective, so you won’t shoot.”
“Is that what your master told you?” She pressed the muzzle down, pushing the back of his head against the concrete. “Green thinks she knows me so well, doesn’t she?”
“Mer,” Julian warned from behind them.
Maybe he sensed what she was about to do. Mera didn’t look forward to it either, but Rob had to fear her more than he feared his master.
“Here’s the thing.” She leaned forward. “Green knows shit about me.”
Removing the gun from his head, she then shot him in the stomach. The undead winced in pain as the bullet cut through his flesh, but he held back his screams. His body shivered violently, though.
It didn’t matter. He couldn’t die a second time unless Green allowed it, or Mera shot him in the head. She placed the gun between his eyebrows again, and he immediately stilled. “How long have you been dead?”
His eyes crossed when he stared at the weapon. “A-a week.”
“You should be rotting.”
“Master made sure I wouldn’t.” Dark, gooey blood drenched his shirt and pants, pooling underneath his body, but the blood loss wouldn’t send him into shock. The perks of being dead, she supposed.
“Did Green reconstruct you?” A certain panic bloomed in Mera’s chest at the possibility, but she didn’t show it.
When he shook his head, she breathed out in relief.
There were fables of necromancers who could restore flesh and muscle to dried bones. Evanorians so powerful, they created the eternal dead; a concept similar to vampires, only the undead didn’t feed on blood to survive. Their necromancer’s essence was enough.
The witch or warlock, on the other hand, couldn’t live forever. Eventually, all living creatures died, some sooner than others. A spell here and there helped increase one’s lifespan, but in the end everyone ran their course—fae, human, waterbreaker, and all in between. So, when a necromancer died, their dead died with them, which made the name eternal sound stupid.
All of it was lore, of course. No one in Tagradian history had been able to create eternal dead, and neither could Green, it seemed. The bitch was powerful, but not that powerful.
Thankfully.
However, she could clearly spell certain dead so they would never rot.
“Why are you so special, Rob? Why did she want to keep you… presentable?”
“She said I knew the streets. That I would be valuable.”
Of course. No one would buy pills from a man who looked dead. Mera blinked as she connected the dots. “You were the one who gave Fred Johnson the red pill. You were Green’s first dead, not him.”
“Fred was one of my clients, yeah.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, Mera’s lips became a line. “How did you die? When did she get to you?”
He suddenly turned his head to the side, as if someone had called his name. “I see, Master. It makes sense. I shouldn’t be afraid.”
“Eyes on me,” Mera insisted, pressing the gun harder against his forehead. “Your master isn’t here to save you.”
“Is that him?” Rob asked, nodding to Julian. “Is he precious to you?”
“Shut up.” She pressed down her gun so hard, she swore the bones in his forehead cracked. “Tell Green I’m waiting. She can stop being a coward and face me.”
“No, no, Detective. Not yet.” He pushed his shoulders forward, as if wanting to show Mera his wrists. “If you won’t shoot, then I believe you should arrest me.”
“Should I?” she countered with clenched teeth, seeing right through his little game. Well, Green’s game.
Had Rob been a normal criminal, she would have taken him in the moment he surrendered. She would have also thought twice before shooting him. Since he was dead, however, she and Julian could do to him what they wanted, especially considering he might be contagious.
Except, Rob was their only link to Green. Without him they had nothing, which meant shooting him in the head was a no-go. Mera guessed Green had just reminded him of that.
Grunting a curse, she stepped away.
Julian approached Rob and pulled at his limp arms, trapping them in cuffs. “Being a smartass won’t help you for long.” He then took a mask from his jacket’s pocket and set it around the undead’
s mouth. “You have no rights, since you’re not alive. Your existence is a crime. We’ll ask our Captain what to do with you.”
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he called a unit to take them to the precinct.
“Yes, yes.” Rob’s voice sounded muffled from behind the mask as he turned to Mera. “If you bring me the doctor who ruined our plans, I’ll tell you everything about Master.”
Mera scoffed. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Shall I make myself clearer?” He chuckled. “Bring me the doctor, and Green will be yours.”
Chapter 21
Somewhere in the past…
Mera stood on the edge of the rift, watching the chasm’s infinite dark. No sound came from the abyss, no sign of life. Maybe she was losing her mind, but Mera could feel the void staring back at her.
She’d been returning to the spot since the water dragon disappeared into the depths, wondering—hoping—the creature might still be alive.
Foolish, of course. The beast couldn’t have survived weeks without food. Grief filled Mera’s chest, and she bit her bottom lip.
Such a beautiful creature, lost forever…
What she would do next was silly. The gods weren’t real, and if a long lost predator had indeed taken the dragon, it certainly couldn’t understand words or form coherent thoughts. There was nothing down there; no one who could answer. Yet maybe, just maybe, Mera was wrong.
The queen might be mad, but perhaps she’d been telling the truth. Maybe Poseidon did live down there, holding the beast captive and all to himself.
Fisting her hands, Mera bent over the chasm. “If you have the dragon, set it free!” Her voice echoed down the pitch-black depths until it vanished, swallowed by the void.
She waited, and waited.
Only silence greeted her.
“Please?”
Nothing.
“Merling, you’re going crazy just like Mother,” she grumbled to herself before swimming away.
Returning to the place had been a pointless enterprise. The gods weren’t real, and neither were beasts from times of old. The dragon was dead, and that was that.