by C. S. Wilde
Mera should forget about the trenches, as well as the majestic creature lost to them.
A faint, beastly shriek echoed from the distancing chasm, stopping her. It had been so quiet, Mera couldn’t tell if the sound had been real, or simply wishful thinking.
Focusing, she tried to hear what might have been a dragon roar again. She waited for a while, yet only the currents rushed by, whales wailing in the distance, dolphins squeaking not much higher above her.
“Yes,” she told herself, a heavy weight crushing down her shoulders. “Definitely wishful thinking.”
Chapter 22
“It’s a trap,” Julian muttered, arms crossed as he watched the dead man sitting behind bars.
“It sure is.” Mera nodded to their prisoner. “Especially since Doctor Stone ruined Green’s plans.”
Rob rested the back of his head against the cell’s white wall, his eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed. He’d stopped bleeding half an hour ago, probably because he’d already lost most of the dark goo inside his veins on the way to the precinct.
“Why would Green want an audience with the doctor, though?” Julian narrowed his eyes at the culprit. “Rob’s behind iron bars. He can’t hurt anyone.”
“True, but that’s why we should play along. There’s zero risk for the doc.”
Officer Cortez suddenly entered the empty precinct. Sweat beads coated her forehead, and she panted as she rushed toward her desk. Her polarized sunglasses hid half of her face, and her ebony threads were tied in a tight bun behind her head.
“It’s madness out there, guys. So. Many. People!” Cortez grabbed a backpack from under her table. “All good here?”
While Cortez and the rest of the guys worked on putting out the fire, Mera and Julian tried to kill the source.
Green.
The necro-bitch would never stop wreaking havoc, of that Mera was certain. She knew the type too well. Megalomaniacal assholes were all the same.
“All good,” Mera assured without looking away from the dead man in the cell. “Talk to you later?”
“Sure thing, girl.” With that, Cortez left.
“Green wants the doc here for a reason,” Mera reasoned. “If we don’t bring her, we’ll never find out.”
“You can’t be seriously considering—”
“The Cap approved it. Doc’s on the way.”
Soon enough, Dr. Stone entered the precinct, this time without her white lab coat.
Her messy hair was up in a loose ponytail, and she wore black jeans and a yellow shirt that said, “Check Mate.” With dark circles under her eyes, she appeared thinner than the last time they’d seen her. Still, she smiled softly when they shook hands.
“Detectives, I hope this won’t take long. I have a lot of work waiting for me.”
“We appreciate you taking the time.” The side-glare Julian shot Mera spoke loud and clear—he was pissed she’d given Green exactly what she wanted, without even consulting him. “Thanks for coming, doctor.”
“My pleasure.” She pointed to the cell. “Is that him?”
Julian nodded.
Dr. Stone stepped forward, but remained at a safe distance from the iron bars. Holding her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat. “I heard you called for me.”
Rob didn’t open his eyes, but a lazy grin formed on his lips. “Doctor, you’ve ruined the plan.” His tone sounded low and sharp, like his voice was formed by broken glass.
Green. She spoke through Rob.
“I sure did,” the doctor countered. “Are you mad?”
“Disappointed.”
“I thought you had a grand plan for Clifftown. Chaos, deaths, all that jazz. Surely, you must be furious.”
“It wasn’t my plan.”
Mera moved to the doctor’s side, a chill running down her spine. “Whose plan was it?”
The undead’s eyes opened, their lime-green shine so bright they resembled beacons. “His, of course. It has always been about him, Detective.” A low chuckle reverberated in Rob’s chest. “The spark he shared with me, aligned with the pills, allowed me to create the undead. Yet, my energy is depleted, and our drug stock gone—rendered useless actually, thanks to the good doctor. I can’t create new undead. We shall see what he has in store for me next.”
Green was working for someone.
A male.
Mera swallowed dry. She knew who “he” was. She had no proof, no connection between him and this case. Yet, she knew.
“You are working for Azinor.”
“Poseidon!” Rob snapped. “He’s Poseidon, risen from the trenches, and he’ll bring Regneerik to land and sea!”
Fuck. The necro-bitch was a waterbreaker. Her mention of Regneerik—the sirens’ end of days—as well as her worshipping of Poseidon, were decisive proof.
Green was one of her people.
Her hate for Mera finally made sense, given half of Atlantea despised her for killing Queen Ariella. Uncovering Green’s identity, however, was basically out the window. The pool of suspects literally consisted of half a kingdom.
A despondent sigh escaped her lips. At least now Mera was certain that the necromancer was a means to an end. Ever since her first case with Bast, there had been one culprit, one dickhead’s shadow which loomed over them, day in and day out. The puppet master they couldn’t catch.
Poseidon.
He’d granted Green the power to walk into the forbidden zone unscathed. He’d given her the ability to raise the dead.
He was the end game. Not the female speaking through Rob.
Julian frowned at Mera. “Who’s Azinor, and what’s this talk about Poseidon and Regneerik?” He gasped as he connected the dots. “Holy shit! The necromancer is a siren?”
Mera’s blood froze.
Green could end her right then if she revealed the truth. Friend or not, Julian would shoot Mera if he found out she was a siren. Or maybe, she should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he would accept her, like Bast had.
Was she willing to bet her life on that slim chance?
Instead of sealing her fate, Rob simply smiled at him. “Your powers of deduction are quite slow, Detective.”
Aha. Bitch was playing the long game.
Green wanted Mera to suffer, as she’d clearly stated again and again. Having Julian shoot her because she was a siren meant a quick death, and Green didn’t want that for her.
Not yet.
Stepping closer, Mera wrapped her fingers around the iron bars, her focus on Rob. The rough metal scraped against her skin. “Stop the bullshit and the games. What do you want, asshole?”
The undead leaned forward on his seat, elbows on his knees as he stared directly at her. “I’ve told you what I want.”
To make her suffer.
The elevator pinged, startling Mera as someone arrived at the precinct. Old Bill stepped inside and waved at them, before heading toward his desk. He wore aviator sunglasses similar to Cortez’s.
“I forgot some paperwork, kids.” Halting, he cocked his head to the left, watching the cell. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing much,” Julian explained from behind Mera. “Just interrogating a dead man.”
He kept further details to himself, of course. Knowledge of a siren-witch loose in Clifftown would generate a panic greater than the undead outbreak, and their colleagues had enough on their hands.
Bill whistled. “I hope you guys catch the motherfucker behind this madness. The city is going crazy.”
“Detective Maurea.” Rob’s lips curled, as if her last name disgusted him. “Thanks to the good doctor, my outbreak is no more.” He nodded to Dr. Stone, who observed him wearily from the left. “You’re lucky my wrath will not fall upon you, Doctor, but someone has to pay. And I promised the detective suffering, didn’t I?”
“Bill?” Julian called out suddenly.
Adrenaline shot through Mera’s blood as she turned. Bill had already crossed the room and removed his sunglasses, revealing l
ime-green eyes. His mouth stretched into a gaping maw.
Mera’s hand went to her gun, but there wasn’t enough time. Grabbing Julian, Bill sank his teeth into her partner’s left shoulder, biting off a chunk of his flesh. Red blood spilled from the wound, while Julian’s screams echoed through the space.
Old Bill spit her partner’s flesh away, blood overflowing from his mouth. It hurt seeing one of her friends turned into a monster.
Mera fired, but the bastard dodged quickly, scurrying away through the precinct as fast as a blur. She shot, again and again, but Bill was always faster by a millisecond, until he hid behind a concrete column.
Dr. Stone rushed to Julian, while Mera placed herself in a protective stance in front of them, her grasp on the weapon steady. The moment Bill stepped out, he would be dead meat. No pun intended.
Ripping a piece of her shirt, the doctor tied it around Julian’s wound. “I’m calling the hospital!”
Mera’s heart squeezed. She wanted to check on him, but if she let down her guard, Bill—well, Green—would strike again.
“Hang in there, Jules.”
“Trying,” he grumbled, pain clear in his tone.
“The doctor will be next!” Bill shouted from behind the column, more a warning than a threat. “Get ready, Mera!”
He was still there, the old man who’d showed her the ropes when she’d first arrived in the precinct. Not that it made any difference. Old Bill couldn’t overpower Green’s will, no matter how hard he tried.
Damn it!
The old cop lunged at her, zig-zagging at remarkable speed.
She had one shot.
Taking a deep breath, her siren’s instincts took over, sharpening her senses. Bill was too fast, but she only needed one… tiny… window.
Mera fired, nailing a bullet to his shoulder. It stopped him in his tracks, yanking Old Bill back before he could reach them. As he slammed against the opposite wall, Mera didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate before shooting again, this time right in the middle of his forehead.
A crippling guilt pierced through her core, but Old Bill wouldn’t have hesitated, either. Tears gathered in her eyes, and her heart squeezed on itself.
Sticky blood oozed from the hole in Bill’s head, dripping in rivulets down his nose and mustache. “S-she forced me to do it.”
Sneaky tears escaped from Mera’s self-control, sliding down her cheeks. Bill was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die that way.
“I know,” she assured him as she put her gun back in its holster. “It’s okay.”
The lime-green in his eyes vanished, and his body slumped against the wall, crumpling into a lifeless pile.
Only then did Mera notice the deep cut in his throat. Green had killed and then raised him. She’d done it before her energies were depleted; before Rob had lured them into this trap.
The old man had been the final card under her sleeve.
Mera swiveled on her heels, her burning anger focused on the undead behind bars. How she wished shooting him would end this, but Rob wasn’t Green, and Green wasn’t there.
From inside the cell, he laughed with delight. “You won this round, but your beloved partner is as good as dead, sweet Me-ra!”
That’s why Green hurt Julian. He was important to her, and the siren-witch wanted her to suffer.
“When I find you, and I will,” Mera hissed, gritting her teeth, “you won’t survive to tell the tale.”
Rob chuckled mockingly.
He would regret that. So would Green.
Snapping out of her anger, she rushed to her partner and kneeled by his side. Julian had grown pale, and his entire body shivered.
Wiping away her tears, Mera focused on him. He didn’t need her desperation. He needed her help.
“You’ll be okay,” she guaranteed, though she shouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep. She had learned that lesson the hard way.
“It’s okay, Mer. Joke’s on Green. She got the wrong guy.” He snickered as sweat bloomed on his forehead. Blood flowed down his arm, drenching Dr. Stone’s makeshift tourniquet.
“Stop with that. Don’t you dare imply you are expendable, do you hear me?”
Mera’s throat squeezed, the need to cry taking over her. She’d failed him and Old Bill. Morgan Schmid, too. She failed to protect the innocent, again and again.
Hollowcliff’s finest my ass.
“No, I mean it. I’m so proud of what you’ve achieved, partner.” Clenching his teeth, Julian tried to control his shivering as he stared at Rob. “Fuck you. When Mera finds you, you’ll wish you were one of your precious dead.”
“Will I?” Rob stared at him deep in thought, a certain disappointment in his tone. “What did you mean with ‘I got the wrong guy’, Detective?”
Mera froze, and by the horrid look in Julian’s face, so did he.
Rob observed him for a moment longer before his attention switched to Mera. “Ah, the nightling who was with you in Lunor Insul… I saw him when I laid the Crown of Land and Sea for you to find.”
That had been Green? Mera assumed it’d been Poseidon.
Well, Azinor.
Fear swam down her spine, and she jumped to her feet. Mera had to bait Green, had to end her before the bitch got to Bast. “Why did you give us the crown?”
“He hoped you would wear it, at least for a bit.” Rob shrugged. “But you’re smarter than that, it seems.”
Smarter?
Mera hadn’t even considered putting on the damn thing.
“Face me, you coward,” she snarled.
“I wish you would remember me,” Rob said without a hint of emotion. “But that time soon will come. For now, I must bid you goodbye.”
Rob gurgled a sound that rang awfully like drowning in his own blood. He thrashed violently, gaping at the ceiling, until he fell limp. The lime-green light in his eyes vanished, and his chin dropped to his chest.
“Mer, tell Em she was right. I’m an idiot. Tell her I wish I wasn’t so good at missing chances,” Julian muttered, his entire body quivering. “I’m sorry, but I can’t run the risk of coming back.”
Pulling out his gun, he aimed at his temple.
Mera rushed to him, but Dr. Stone was faster, snatching the weapon from his grip before he could shoot.
Julian was so weak, he couldn’t stop her.
“I’ll save you, Detective, that’s a promise. And as you’ve seen, I tend to deliver on those.” She turned to Mera. “Apply pressure to his wound. Where’s the precinct’s first aid kit?”
“Cap’s office, top shelf.”
Standing up, the doctor rushed into Ruth’s office, while Mera kneeled by Julian’s side, pressing her hands against the piece of fabric drenched in his blood.
Black veins began spreading from the wound, growing like poison ivy under his skin.
“No, no, no,” she pleaded.
Mera could only hope Green wasn’t strong enough to kill Julian the same way she’d killed Morgan Schmid. Surely, the necro-bitch had removed her essence from Rob, but he’d already been dead. Ending a living human must be a lot harder. Or so Mera hoped.
The fact Julian kept breathing was a good sign.
Rushing back, Dr. Stone gave him some pills with a glass of water. Her hands shook, but her voice remained frighteningly composed; the tone of someone who constantly stared death in the face and said, “Not today.”
“These will force you to sleep. They should buy us some time.”
Sirens blared in the distance.
Chapter 23
Bast sat cross-legged on a building’s rooftop, trying to focus.
Halle.
He’d been struggling to catch a whiff of Azinor’s magic since late morning. Now, the sun had lowered in the horizon, a dark purple taking over the pink and orange in the sky, and still, not a single hit on that malachai’s location.
Glancing down at his hands, he wondered if his magic would catch Azinor’s if he held the Crown of Land and Sea differently.
He tried. It didn’t work, of course.
Hunching forward, he watched the sun disappear beyond the buildings. At least the view from that high-up was nice.
He hated admitting it, but Clifftown looked rather quaint from up there. Thousands of lights slowly came to life after the sun went down, as if swarms of fireflies were conquering the city.
Clifftown was too much of everything—too many people, electricity, technology—but it wasn’t terribly bad. The river Tigris cut through the concrete jungle, and if Bast narrowed his eyes, he might even spot the ocean in the far distance.
Indeed, Clifftown had its charms. Mera being one of them.
She’d been trying to contact him, and Bast should have answered, should have apologized for behaving like a crazy shig, but he had to focus.
When it came to Mera, his emotions often went wayward. Talking to her could disrupt his concentration, and he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Not when this was his one chance at finding Azinor.
He had to catch that suket; had to ensure he would never lay a finger on his hart. Whether Mera denied their bond, whether his darkness was right or simply overreacting—as it frequently did—none of it played a role in his mission.
Mera’s safety came first.
Always.
Holding the crown tighter in his hands, he steadied his thoughts. “Come on.”
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Halle fuchst ach!” Pulling out the magical enhancer from his pocket, he shook his head. “You’re not helping.”
The object kept thrumming into his magic, fueling his abilities, but not in the way Bast wanted. Until… a ribbon of light stretched from the silver hexagon, wavering the same way a flag fluttered against the wind.
“Interesting.” He pressed the amulet against the crown. The light slowly ventured inside the silver surface, creating a bridge between its power and Bast’s own.
At first, he sensed a mystical energy that belonged to the crown itself. Waterbreaker magic, as ancient as Danu’s realms. It carried the salty tang of the ocean and the sound of rushing waves.
This magic belonged to every particle of the object, but soon he found others—foreign powers that didn’t quite mesh with the crown’s.