by C. S. Wilde
Fingerprints.
A hint of darkness that almost matched Bast’s own brushed against his essence. He knew that darkness well, and oh, how he missed it.
Leon.
His own night and stars soon unveiled, followed by Corvus’. Tiny, weak impressions that almost went by unnoticed.
A mysterious energy suddenly sizzled and slithered through all others, like a snake tracing a course inside the crown. It tasted bitter, and smelled of limes and rot.
The path to Azinor. It had to be.
Bast pushed his magic, and the wavering connection between his power and the shig’s suddenly jolted through the buildings, forming a lime-green path that headed toward the horizon.
The ocean.
With a vehicle, Bast might reach the beach within two hours. If he flew, maybe in one. And if he winnowed… his strength might be significantly depleted.
He couldn’t use the magical enhancer, since it was tightly locked on Azinor’s trace. Removing it from the crown to fuel his own power might break the connection.
Sure, he’d winnowed to Mera’s place last night without much damage, but he’d been drunk, and magic tended to flow better when one loosened up. Showing up drunk to face a thousand-year-old siren-warlock was a terrible idea, however. Bast had to use every bit of advantage he had, especially if Azinor was as powerful as he feared.
Flying it would be, then.
His mighty silver wings flashed to life from behind him. Patting their smooth surface, he smiled to himself.
“Let’s try to make it in half the time, shall we?”
Chapter 24
Mera watched Julian through the hospital room’s viewing window. He’d been immersed in a bathtub full of ice and placed in a coma to slow the disease’s spread. Yet, the sickly, black veins under his skin grew thicker, crawling their way through his entire body.
The treatment wasn’t working.
“How are you, Detective?” Dr. Stone stepped beside her, holding a clipboard containing notes.
“Got my partner nearly killed, but thanks for asking,” she snapped, only to immediately chide herself. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’ll be fine once Julian is out of the woods.”
Dipping her chin, Dr. Stone studied the floor. “I’m buying him time, but he’s not responding to the treatment. The virus is spreading through his body at an incredible speed. It pains me to say this, but his liver and lungs will stop working soon.”
The urge to scream and sob uncontrollably whirled inside Mera, but she kept her composure. “How long?”
“Two days. Perhaps three.”
Right. She had two days to find and kill Green. If she did, the infection would go poof, and Julian would be safe.
Except, she had no idea where to find the necromancer.
Shit, shit, shit!
Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, Mera held back a cry. Veins thumped in her forehead, but she didn’t shed tears, didn’t let herself crumble in front of the doctor.
Dire as the situation may be, she should count herself lucky. Green had spared Julian instead of killing him immediately—like she’d done to Morgan Schmid.
“Spared” might be the wrong word, though. Green wasn’t the merciful type. The bitch’s powers had been depleted, she’d said so herself, and this was the only reason why Mera’s partner still breathed.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Old Bill had been contagious, which meant that the moment Julian died…
“He was infected with an incredibly aggressive strain of Green’s virus, Detective. I hate saying this, but we should wake him tomorrow so he can say his final goodbyes.”
Mera gaped at her. “You’re going to put a bullet through his brain, aren’t you?”
The doctor swallowed. “It’s standard procedure in a situation like this. We’ll put him to sleep first. He won’t feel a thing.”
“Where is he?” Emma’s voice boomed through the Final Ward, her black leather boots slamming harshly on the floor.
The vampire wore the same attire from this morning—a long, black cloak that covered her from head to toe, her mouth still coated in an onyx layer of lipstick. Her sunglasses were gone, revealing eyes flawlessly outlined by mascara.
Stopping by Mera’s side, her gaze quickly found Julian beyond the glass. Her rage dimmed for a second while she pressed her palm on the surface, but it soon built up again.
“You.” She poked Mera’s chest with one finger, pushing her back. “This is your fault! You doomed him!”
“He… I…” The sobs Mera had contained before itched in her throat, but she wouldn’t set them free, wouldn’t show weakness when she needed to be strong.
For Julian.
“I failed him,” she admitted, her tone hoarse and broken. “I fail everyone around me.”
“Excuse me!” Dr. Stone stepped between them, facing the vampire head on, even if she was two heads shorter than Emma.
Mera couldn’t deny it—the doc had gigantic balls.
“I was there,” she countered, “and I assure you, Detective Maurea did the best she could. We all did. So don’t you barge in here accusing her!”
Someone cleared their throat from behind them. Mera turned, and for the first time in this shitstorm of a day, she felt lighter.
Mom!
She rushed toward Ruth, who trapped her in her arms, hugging her the way she used to when Mera was nothing but a merling haunted by nightmares late at night.
Only then, in the safety of her embrace, did Mera realize how hard her hands shook; no, her entire body.
“He’ll be okay, cookie.” Ruth laid a hand on the back of her head. “He’s one of the toughest officers we have.”
“It’s my fault.” She whimpered. “I lost Bill, and now I’ll lose Jules, too.”
“The hell you will.” Letting go, her mom cupped her cheeks. “You’re not alone. You never have been, do you hear me? You’re a Maurea, and you know the thing about Maureas, don’t you?”
They never gave up. They never surrendered.
With a nod, resilience swelled in Mera’s chest.
“That’s my cookie. Now, let’s head to the precinct and gun up.” A certain ferocity flashed in her mom’s gaze. “We have a necromancer to kill.”
The precinct was empty when they arrived, the dark space dimly lit only by desk lamps.
Mera had lost count of the late nights she’d worked with Julian inside these walls, but today the space felt eerie, almost alien.
Rushing to her office, Ruth opened the arsenal built into the bookshelves behind her desk. She pulled out a shotgun, then handed Mera a Block 47—a heavy handgun with double-coated iron bullets. It was one of Ruth’s favorites, a weapon she had often used when patrolling the streets in her youth.
“I have good intel.” Her mom loaded the shotgun. “Christine was assigned to the old docks with Bill yesterday. She said he followed a lead in an abandoned store at Twenty-Third and Ninth, while she dealt with some misbehaving youths who refused to get tested.”
“She lost sight of him?”
“For ten minutes. When he came back he was acting strange. Also, he wouldn’t take off his sunglasses.”
Bingo.
Mera removed one of her guns from her double shoulder holster and placed Ruth’s weapon inside. “Green might not be there anymore, but this lead is all Julian has.”
Resting her shotgun on her shoulder, her mom winked at her. “Let’s go.”
“How does this thing work?” A voice rang in Mera’s mind, flowing through her link with Bast.
Not his voice, though. The tone sounded low and sharp, as if it had been formed by broken glass. It rang similar to Rob’s, yet when the undead had spoken he’d used his own vocal chords. Now, Mera could hear Green’s true voice, and it sounded awfully familiar.
None of that mattered, of course.
The bitch had Bast.
“You fucking asshole!” Mera barked into the air, her hands fisting. “Don’t you dare lay a finge
r on him!”
A cruel laugh rolled from the other side. Hell, she had heard that laugh before, she was certain.
“Sweet Me-ra,” Green countered. “Still don’t recognize me? It seems hiding my identity with a fake name worked wonders. I spoon-fed it to that poor girl who thought she was betraying me. The girl you couldn’t save.”
Mera’s blood froze in her veins as she finally recognized the bastard.
That voice. It had lullabied her nightmares for years.
No, she had to be mistaken.
Scornful laughter echoed through the link once again, followed by the image of one lime-green eye, russet hair, and the Crown of Land and Sea on her head.
“No, no, no.” Mera began dry heaving, trying to catch the air that refused to enter her lungs. Her legs melted underneath her as horror struck deep, her knees hitting the floor.
Impossible!
Suddenly, she was thirteen again, fighting for her life inside a ring of molten lava.
Green couldn’t be her. This had to be a nightmare. Maybe if Mera took a deep breath, she would wake up.
“Cookie, what is it?” Ruth rushed to her side, worry plastered on her face.
Swallowing the knot in her throat, Mera fought the urge to curl into a ball and hide. “Queen Ariella is alive.”
“Nonsense,” the voice snapped, the sound raspy and harsh. “We can’t describe my current state as being alive, weakling.”
“You bitch!” Mera growled, addressing the monster on the other side, the cruel queen who had Bast at her mercy. “I don’t know how you’re back, but if you hurt him, I swear I’ll kill you all over again.”
“It’s a bit too late for that.”
A sudden pain rushed through Mera’s body, stiffening her muscles. Every bone felt as if it were about to shatter into a million pieces. Gritting her teeth, she held back a scream.
The pain didn’t belong to her, though.
It came from Bast.
A picture of his face flashed in her mind, his hair smeared with his own blood, a purple blotch swelling on his eye.
“Kitten… ”
“Bast!” she roared, but his presence immediately vanished from the link.
“Remember, you’re in no position to threaten me, daughter.”
Ruth cupped Mera’s cheeks, resolve clear in her light-gray eyes. Mera had spent enough time with her mom to understand the hidden message.
Bargain.
She had to bargain with the dead queen.
“What do you want in exchange for his life?” Panic kept trying to take over her, but Mera fought it. She had to if she were to save her hart. “You must want something now that your plans are ruined.”
“As I’ve said, they were never my plans, weakling. But I suppose we’ll address the matter soon enough.” Through the link, Mera caught impressions of Mother stamped against her essence, which meant she could sense the bitch rolling her bony shoulders. “Besides, I’ve told you what I want.”
“To make me suffer.”
“Indeed. We learn through suffering, merling.” The image of one rotting finger, playing with a lock of Bast’s moon-silver hair, flashed in Mera’s vision. “Shall we begin?”
A spear ramming through her heart had to hurt less than this. Mera didn’t know how, didn’t know when, but she would kill that monster again, and this time she would rip the queen’s head off her fucking neck to ensure she stayed dead.
“You’ll teach me this valuable lesson from a distance?” Mera asked, hiding the gut-wrenching terror in her voice. She had to stop the queen, no matter what. “I call bullshit. You want to see my pain in the flesh, not just feel it. To rejoice in your revenge, Mother.” The word oozed with poison and disgust. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Mera knew how the bitch ticked. She could only hope Ariella would take the bait.
“I like what you offer, merling. You can come to watch your love die. I hope you’ll enjoy the show.” An evil chuckle came through the link. “Meet us where you buried me. Be here in ten minutes, or your precious mate will die.”
“Wait! The beach is two hours from the center. I can’t—”
“Mera,” Bast’s tone took over the queen’s presence, stealing back temporary control. “Don’t come.” A heaving sound and a cough followed, then the image of blood splattering on the sand. “Let me go, kitten.”
“Don’t be a hero, you dickwart!” She heard him chuckling, perhaps for the last time. It ripped her heart apart. “Please, hang in there, partner. I’m coming for you.”
“Don’t.” A peaceful sensation drifted from the other side, the kind one must feel when accepting their death. “I love you, Mera.”
His presence vanished, and the queen took over. She slapped him in the face, and the burn pulsed hot on Mera’s own cheek.
A cry squeezed her throat, mingling with the flesh-burning anger that scorched her core. Bast was so weak that he couldn’t fight against a mere slap.
What had Mother done to him?
“The beach,” the queen said. “Ten minutes, or say goodbye to your pretty lover.”
Chapter 25
Bast had reached the beach in record time.
The moment he landed on the soft sand, the lime-green line that had taken him there disappeared.
The magical enhancer had done its duty, it seemed. Its power didn’t fuel Bast’s own anymore, which meant the object might need some time to recharge. Placing it in his pocket, he scanned the space around him while his wings folded into his back.
The navy and purplish hue from the sky brushed over the waves, painting their crests. The moon shone fiercely whenever it appeared from behind sluggish clouds.
The beach was empty, quiet.
“Where are you, shig?” he grumbled under his breath.
Looking down at the crown in his hand, he tried to sense more of the magic that had led him here, yet caught nothing. His darkness, however, warned Bast to a presence that approached from behind.
Raising his defenses, he turned in time to face a female.
Undead.
She wore a tattered red bodysuit that seemed to be made of scales. Her russet hair hung limply down her back, and her ribs poked out of an open gash in her torso. With her gray, wrinkly skin, the woman resembled a dead fish. One of her eyes was missing, the remaining orb shining a lime-green.
Her tongue poked out from the gash on her left cheek as she analyzed Bast.
“It seems you caught the wrong scent.” Her low tone resembled a last breath, a voice that fit the creature standing before him perfectly.
“So it seems.”
“Are you the one she loves?”
“Don’t know who you’re talking about. Many females love me.” He motioned to his own face with a smirk. “Part of the appeal, you see.”
“That may be, Sebastian Dhay, but only one is your hart.” When she grinned, she showcased rows of rotting teeth.
He remained unfazed. He had to.
“Was knowing my name supposed to scare me?” He began walking in a wide circle.
Mirroring his moves, the dead woman followed the pace in an eerie dance that always preceded a battle. “I’m simply being polite.”
She touched a silver locket hanging around her neck. The trinket was shaped in the form of an egg with odd, inky inscriptions carved on the surface. Magic pulsed inside it, reverberating against Bast’s darkness, clawing at his night and stars the way a hungry wolf clawed at their prey.
Shaking his head, he held the Crown of Land and Sea tighter. Now was not the time to be losing his mind.
“I take it that you’re Green?”
“How can you tell?”
“The color of your eye. Also,” he jiggled the crown in front of her, “this was meant to take me to someone else, but it led me to you instead. I’m betting this someone instilled his magic in you, which is why I’m here. I didn’t catch the wrong scent. His magic is your magic.”
“In a way.”
“The fa
ct that you’re dead is certainly a surprise. It tells me Azinor is more powerful than I assumed.”
“He’s Poseidon, risen from the trenches!” she snapped. All of a sudden, her expression softened, and she eyed him up and down. “You’re smart, I’ll grant you that. I see why my daughter likes you.”
Her daughter?
Halle fuchst ach!
Only then did Bast truly notice the woman’s reddish hair, her straight nose, and strong jaw. Only then did he see what had been right in front of him.
Mera.
“Ariella Wavestorm,” he muttered.
An agonizing, prickly sensation streamed down his veins. Bast wanted to end this monster for what she’d done to his hart, but the honor belonged to Mera and no one else.
Spreading her arms, the dead queen bowed to him slightly, the heavy locket that hung from her neck nearly falling on the sand.
Bast swallowed dry, thoughts flashing in his mind, but none that quite explained this. Fixing his stance, he tried to ignore the alarm in his head that urged him to run. “I assumed a queen bowed to no one.”
“I don’t have a crown.” She nodded to the silver object in his hand. “Yet.”
Placing both hands behind his back, Bast hid the Crown of Land and Sea from her vision. “We’ll see about that.”
A jittering sensation coursed through his body, a reaction against the ravenous magic trapped inside the locket.
That thing was bad news.
“So, you’re Mera’s birth giver, former queen of Atlantea, and also a necromancer. For a walking dead, you wear many different hats.”
“You mean her mother.” She bared her browning teeth at him, a certain fury swirling in her one green eye. “I’m Mera’s mother!”
“You birthed her, yes, but you were certainly not her mother.” Looking around, he let out a bored sigh. “Where’s your boss?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Boss?”
“He who raised you. Who gave you the power to create the undead, though he never had the same power himself. I’m guessing the red pills might have helped.” Bast shrugged, shoving one hand in his pocket as he motioned to her with the crown. “I hoped to have a quick chat with him. I certainly didn’t come here to meet you.”