by C. S. Wilde
“You’re Azinor, I assume?”
“I haven’t heard that name in a long time.” A low chuckle rolled in his chest. “Poseidon seems more fitting, since I spent an eternity in the trenches. Don’t you agree?”
“Azinor it is, then.”
“Ever the defying child.” He kept his hands behind his back in a non-menacing manner, not a hint of emotion flashing past his expression. “Spiteful, like your mother.”
The insult hurt, but Mera had no time for dilly-dallying. If she was there risking her life, the bastard better give her some answers.
“You impregnated and then killed Sara Hyland. Why?”
Azinor seemed to sigh, though he couldn’t. Like hers, his lungs were filled with water.
“Sara created the compound that helped me raise the dead. It’s what I used to bring back your mother. If Sara had agreed to do as I said, if she hadn’t sought the help of the Summer King, I wouldn’t have been forced to kill her.”
“And murder your unborn bub in the process,” she added. “You discarded Sara and your merling as if they meant nothing.”
He frowned as if she’d spoken in a foreign language.
“Yes, they meant nothing. Nothing against the bigger plan. Sara was a means to an end, the child an accident.” He lifted his shoulders. “I’m a male and the flesh is weak, especially after being trapped for an eternity. You, most of all, should understand that, daughter.”
Cruel, fucking psycho.
“So it’s true. You’re my—”
“Father.” He reveled on the word as if tasting each letter.
“More like lender of genetic material,” she corrected, a nauseating sensation thrashing in her empty stomach. “I’m lucky there’s no family resemblance.”
“Isn’t there?” He motioned to his own complexion. “I would argue you carry a hint of my grayish hue. Also, I do see myself in your wide, cruel eyes. Don’t you?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm, I suppose you are right. You are your Mother’s spitting image, after all.” He glanced at the body parts with a certain longing. “The cruelest waterbreaker in the seven seas.”
“Enough with the bullshit,” Mera snapped. “How did you escape your prison in the trenches?”
Azinor swam in slow circles and she followed his moves, always keeping a safe distance between them.
“Brave, foolish souls, such as your mother. They dashed into the darkness, seeking either danger or answers, only to meet their doom. I couldn’t leave, so I kept them there with me, feeding on their power until I was strong enough to break the seal.”
“Took you a long time.”
“The trenches aren’t a tourist attraction.” He licked his thin lips. “I didn’t receive many visitors, although, once, a silly merling gifted me a water dragon on a platter. Beautiful creature, truly.”
Mera’s blood chilled to zero as images of the beast flashed in her memory. “I-It was an accident.”
“A delightful accident, which warned me of your existence. I’m both dead and still living, so I didn’t think my seed could flourish. What a wonderful surprise you were.”
Glancing wistfully at nowhere in particular, he seemed to lose himself in memories. “Your mother never visited while you grew in her belly, but she did come after. Always keeping a safe distance, glaring at me from the cliff’s edge. She stayed for a moment or two before leaving, and in each year after, she came less and less.”
“Don’t take it to heart,” Mera snapped. “Bitch was busy turning my life into a living hell.”
“That may be. But when she stopped coming to the ridge, I knew something was wrong. So, I hurried.”
His tone reminded her of a placid lake at night. The prick was cold. Calculating. Even when speaking about the queen, someone he clearly cared about, Azinor sounded detached. Or maybe, he only cared about what Ariella could give him.
Such as a child.
Hard to tell when it came to monumental psychos.
“It took me years to break free,” he explained. “Your mother was nothing but bones by the time I found her.”
“Keep him talking, kitten.” Bast’s voice suddenly rang in her head.
Relief washed through Mera. Her hart was with her. “Copy that, partner.”
Feigning interest, she pointed her chin at Azinor. “You killed everyone and everything that went into the trenches, but not Mother. Why?”
“She was different.”
As if that explained it.
Cocking his head to the side, the dickface watched Mera with curiosity. “Strange thing, a mating bond. Your mother fears me, yet she can’t pull away. I despise her, but can’t stop craving her presence. You see, daughter, she is to me what the nightling is to you.”
Mera’s bones chilled as a knee-buckling horror took over her, but she didn’t let it show. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.
“How romantic.”
Not. Two creatures as broken as they were couldn’t know what love was. Their mating bond must have been toxic as hell.
Motioning to the queen’s scattered body parts, Mera scoffed. “Is this how you love her? Why you set up this sick display?”
“No. See, I need your help. Together, we will bring her back.”
Mera gripped the locket so hard, the scribbles on the surface probably left imprints on her skin. “You really lost your mind.”
Ignoring her remark, Azinor glanced down at the sea floor. Only then, did Mera spot the Crown of Land and Sea half sunken in the sand, outside Mother’s circle.
“Won’t you take it?” he asked. “It’s yours by right.”
“I figured you wanted it.”
“I do not chase a silly crown. That was the queen’s past-time.”
Which meant he didn’t want power. Didn’t want revenge, either. It didn’t burn in his eyes, didn’t spill through his words, like it always had with Ariella Wavestorm.
“What do you want, then?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He motioned to the empty space around them. “I want it all to burn. Land, sea, it doesn’t matter. I shall bury this world in ashes and blood once again, child. Only chaos will remain.”
“You’ll burn first, dickwart.”
“Piecing your mother back together the first time required a great deal of energy,” he went on, utterly unfazed by her threat. “I must replenish if I’m to raise her again. If I’m to destroy your uncle’s realm, along with the home you call Tagrad. For that, I will need your power.”
“I’ll die before giving it to you.”
His forehead wrinkled. “You’re no use to me dead. For now.”
“Then why did you try to kill me?”
“Your mother can hold a grudge. I did not allow her to end you. For her disobedience, I apologize.” He offered Mera his hand. “Enough. Help me raise her.”
She swam back. “Are you delusional? I won’t help you.”
“You speak as if you have a choice.”
He snapped his fingers, a soundless motion that stilled the blood in Mera’s veins, keeping her in place with a magic awfully similar to the macabre, yet wasn’t exactly it.
The runes tattooed on his body. They must be doing this.
Water thrummed around her until thin rivulets cracked the liquid, spreading like billions of shiny veins.
Lightning underwater. It sounded crazy, but it was the only way to describe it.
Blue energy crackled as it plunged into Mera’s skin, burning and hissing through her flesh. She bit back cries while the lightning dashed into her essence, connecting to the magic in her core.
Those tendrils of light stretched toward Azinor, linking him to her, before they began draining Mera’s magic.
“Kitten!”
“Bast, wait!”
This was her chance to defeat the prick once and for all.
Mera opened her mouth to scream, the siren’s shriek clawing at the back of her throat, when the oddest thing happened. Inky inscriptions a
ppeared on her skin, as if an invisible quill used Mera as paper. The tattoos swirled from her wrists up to her elbows, the words ancient and unreadable.
Hundreds of dim voices whispered in her ears. Voices that came from the blooming signs on her skin, telling Mera things she couldn’t quite understand.
Azinor’s eyes widened. “It seems I gave you more than my seed.”
She had to be quick. Taking momentum, Mera shrieked with all the strength she had left, but no sound escaped her lips.
The prick chuckled. He had blocked her through his macabre-like magic. “Resisting is futile, daughter.”
She fought against his hold, yet her energies were depleting while Azinor’s grew in return.
Shit!
The cruel bastard’s emerald eyes turned bright blue, matching the mystical energy thundering around them.
“Ashermath et ma na,” the tattoos that had nearly reached her shoulders whispered. The language rang similar to Faeish, but she didn’t recognize their meaning.
‘Ashermath et ma na,’ her siren repeated.
Azinor went suddenly still, his eyes widening. An invisible, magical clutch flowed from Mera’s core, trapping him where he was. Not only that, but the power he’d stolen from her slowly returned to her veins, the flux reverting through the lightning.
“You know not what you are, Mera Wavestorm,” he muttered with a certain awe.
“It’s Maurea, asshole!” she bellowed, fists balled as the blue light around them shone brighter. “Mera Maurea!”
Energy, raw and pure crashed through every pore of her body, filling Mera to the brim with not only her own magic but a bit of Azinor’s, too.
‘This is phenomenal!’
“Enough!” he screamed, before releasing a siren’s shriek so mighty that it broke through the water itself.
Mera’s waterbending fought to protect her and keep her in place at the same time. Her hair fluttered as his shriek boomed across the vast blue, sending schools of fish tumbling back and pulverizing corals a mile away.
The lightning around them vanished into a thousand flickering rivulets which mingled with the ocean, the power completely gone. The strange tattoos sunk back into Mera’s skin, their whispers silenced.
“I’ll have to take a different approach with you,” he barked, showing a lack of control for the first time.
Closing his fist, his macabre froze Mera where she floated.
Her body became heavy. She couldn’t move, not even a finger. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she began falling toward the sandy floor.
Toward Mother.
Fuck, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t save herself.
A small underwater explosion suddenly boomed behind Mera, waves blasting against her back. Night and stars tore through the macabre trapping her the same way a knife sliced through butter.
Azinor stretched his hand, trying to catch her as his mouth contorted into another shriek. But before he could reach her, strong arms wrapped around Mera’s waist and pulled her into an endless void.
Chapter 31
Mera crashed onto the wooden floor, water drenching her enough for one last breath. Her vision spun as her skin absorbed the last droplets.
“Hang in there!” Stella pried the locket from her stiff palm. Staring at it, she began chanting lowly.
Was she reading the egg?
Translation spell, probably, but Mera had no time to wonder.
The curse twisted and turned in her chest, shredding her from the inside out. She bellowed in pain as the magic’s pitch-black, freezing tentacles clung to her heart. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
Mera was about to black out, lullabied by horrid screams that boomed around her, screams that came from her own throat.
“Faster, Stella!” Bast’s voice urged from somewhere, but she couldn’t find him.
Everything swirled in a blur, yet she could feel someone holding her hand.
Bast. She faintly remarked she might be crushing her hart’s palm.
Stella kept chanting, her tone a continuous drone.
The last traces of water vanished from Mera’s body, and her gills ached for the liquid, her skin becoming as dry as bone.
She couldn’t scream anymore. She couldn’t even breathe.
“She’s suffocating!” Bast roared.
“Mak’hitar,” Stella hissed, slamming a hand on Mera’s forehead.
Mera’s spine arched, a jolt of electricity sizzling through her until a pitch-black smog rose from her thorax.
Before she had a chance to regain herself, she turned to hurl all the water filling her lungs. The salty tang burned against her scraped throat, but slowly, she wheezed in sharp breaths.
Her skin softened, so did her hair. Her gills and fins retreated back into her skin, the membranes between her fingers vanishing.
As she resumed breathing, she stared at the cloud of tar puffing above, a storm of darkness about to fall upon her. Blinking, she centered her vision to find her own reflection on the oily surface.
For the first time, she spotted a bit of Azinor in her traces. The dickface was right.
Her eyes weren’t entirely like Mother’s.
Something pulled at the malediction, and the thing expelled a bone-chilling sound akin to nails clawing at a metal board. The curse took momentum to dive back into Mera, when something next to her began absorbing it—the open egg-shaped locket Stella held.
Once the curse rushed fully inside, Bast’s sister clicked the locket closed, whispering things Mera couldn’t understand. The egg shook as the inscriptions on its surface glowed yellow until the maddening, thrashing energy inside it stilled.
Finally free, she sat up and massaged her sore throat. “I-I could have handled Azinor.”
“Could you?” Bast raised one eyebrow. “I had to align my magic with Corvus’ just to break his macabre. Azinor is a powerful enemy, and he had the upper hand.”
“How can someone like him even exist?” the Night King mumbled from the corner of the room, his expression haunted.
“No, you don’t understand,” Mera blurted, not bearing to look at Bast. “I have to stop him. He’s my father.”
Her hart took that in for a moment. “As far as I know, Ruth Maurea was your amma and your appa. Anyone else is just noise.”
Tears swelled in her eyes, and Mera held back the cry in her throat. “Thanks, partner.”
“You did a good job.” Watching her with relief, he smiled. “Azinor told us what he wants.”
“Chaos on land and in Atlantea. How do we stop the bastard?”
“Without calling attention to your situation as an akritana?” Bast scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll have to strategize our next steps.”
Nodding, she forced herself to stand on shaky legs. Stella quickly grabbed a towel and helped her dry up, soon handing Mera her white shirt, jeans and jacket.
“Thank you,” she told Bast’s sister and Corvus. “Thank you for everything.”
“Anytime.” Stella winked at her.
Corvus merely nodded, his face still wrinkled in shock, but Mera’s eyes widened as realization suddenly hit her.
Mother was dead. Which meant Green, the necromancer was gone, along with her essence.
Julian!
Mera sped through the Final Ward, anxiety thrashing in her core. After losing so much, at least she’d saved one person.
Julian had to be okay. He simply had to.
Emma stood outside his room, watching him through the viewing window. The vamp seemed tired, her cheeks sunken, which was odd since vampires didn’t need much sleep.
“Green is dead!” Mera announced victoriously.
“I know. The infection vanished.”
“So, is he up yet?”
Emma’s mouth set in a grim line. Dipping her chin, she nodded to the inside of the room. Julian lay still on the hospital bed, his body wrapped in thick sheets. Vital signs beeped faintly from the monitor next to him.
Mera�
��s legs weakened, an invisible python wrapping around her lungs. “Wait, that’s not possible. I killed Green. Julian has to be okay.”
“He’s free of her essence, yes.” Emma leaned against the window’s frame, her arms crossed. “His body was too weak, though. It doesn’t look good, Detective.”
Mera had failed Morgan Schmid, lost Ruth, and now Julian. Bending over, she tried to breathe as tears pricked her eyes. She might be transforming into a waterbreaker again, because she couldn’t freaking breathe.
Mera had failed everyone around her, especially the people closest to her heart. All except Bast. Though somehow, she was certain that time would come, too.
‘The hell it will,’ her siren countered.
Slowly regaining her bearings, she stepped in the room, and Emma followed after her.
Mera halted next to Julian’s bed and laid a trembling hand on his forehead. He was deathly pale, his skin so cold… his body was clearly on the verge of giving up.
“Jules, I’m so fucking sorry.” A whimper escaped her lips. “There must be something we can do, Emma.”
“I have an alternative, but you won’t like it,” she explained carefully, watching out for Mera’s reaction. “If he gets worse, I’ll turn him.”
“Into a vamp?”
Emma stared at her like she was dumb. “Obviously.”
It wasn’t ideal and Jules would be pissed, but it was better than the alternative. A shred of relief washed through Mera.
Not all was lost.
“Will you be here when he wakes?”
The vampire arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Won’t you?”
Glancing down at her former partner, she squeezed his hand gently. Mera wished Julian knew she had been here, that she cared. Yet, once again, she would have to leave him.
So much had happened. So much was yet to come.
The vamp studied her for a moment longer, before slowly nodding. “I’ll be here for him. He won’t be pleased that you left again. But I’ll be here.”
“Thanks. He’ll need all the help he can get.” She took a deep breath. “We just lost our Captain.”
Emma blinked, a certain grief in her azure irises. “I’m sorry to hear that. Ruth was a good woman.”