Page 19 of Heir of the Beast

“You got it.”

In one second, Mort is this cute little Sailor Moon creature, and the next moment, she is a very non-descriptive woman. Mousy brown hair and plain features. Clothes ripped in all the wrong places.

“Whoa,” I say.

Pierce touches his earpiece. “Yes, we are a minute out. Yes, I’m aware, you idiot!” He nods and looks at me.

“Your name is Ms. Viola Luna Stark under the Kingdom of Garthorn. You will be Ms. Stark, a sector 5 slave, which is high up, like a ladies’ maid or housekeeper.

“Here is proof that you are a citizen and your employment.”

He hands me a bronze necklace with a falcon on it and shows me a tattoo on my wrist that I didn’t see before. It’s a strange symbol that I can’t identify—a G with weird inscriptions.

“That is the mark of your employment at the Garthorn Castle.”

“Okay,” I say meekly.

“Ready, and FIVE, FOUR—”

“I am not ready!” I panic.

OH NO.

“TWO, ONE!”

Blackness overcomes me.

Chapter 5

When I come to, I’m confused. A lot of different sensations slam into me at once, causing total brain malfunction.

But it’s when a heavy force of water crashes over my head that I really jolt out of this brain fog.

Oh noooo.

My eyes take in a vast black sea. The sheer dominance of it is knee buckling. I’m shaking, my lungs are constricting, and I feel a scream rise out of my throat.

The sound is lost.

We spawn onto the smallest F-ING raft, in the middle of the biggest F-ING sea I have ever seen! No land in sight.

The water looks dark and monstrous, probably harboring the Kraken and other horrifying sea legends. Every so often, I can feel deep vibrations that course their way up my body, heightening my panic.

What in the holy Moses was that?!

The angry sea is drenching my body, making me gasp for air as I try to hold on for dear life.

My nails are digging into the handles conveniently provided on top of this shitty raft so we won’t slide off. I shall remember to thank Charming for that.

Why, this is very close to tubbing on the back of a speed boat, except for the fact that if I fall off, I most likely will drown. No lifejacket.

Do the lifelines work if I scream them underwater?

I need to know this.

This raft is the size of a king-size bed. That’s not big, trust me. Mort is hissing like an alley cat, trying her best to stay in the middle of the splintery raft by pushing me dangerously to the edge.

What. The. F.

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