Page 28 of The Dark, Dead, Deep

“Have you seen Liam?” I asked, unsure why my male friend’’s name made my stomach curdle.

Moira’s expression darkened. “He seems to have found a more fitting group to cling to.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’’t keep the hurt from seeping into her voice. “It doesn’t matter. By midnight, he’ll be a Troid Sídhe, and I will find out if I have any magic. Huzzah.” Though she pumped her fist at the final word, her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Someone rushed forward and pushed a bone cup filled with deep, almost black, blood wine into my hand. I didn’t hesitate to lift the cup to my lips and drain it. The spices and coppery wine soothed my dry throat and warmed my belly.

“The moon shines. It’s the perfect night for the gods to commune with the Aos sí, don’t you think?” Moira whispered excitedly. “Do you need help to stand?”

I glanced up at the sky, the moon so fat that it blocked all other stars; its reflection in the lake made it seem like there were two of them.

“Can you feel it?” I heard another fae whisper. “It feels like there’s a hook in my belly.”

“Or an eel wrapping around my heart,” another replied.

I clasped my throat and waited, certain that the image of the moon was the only thing reflected in my eyes as I felt the call. Of Belisama, of the water and waves. The one who protected us.

“Bheith lúcháireach!” the crowd cheered. “Rejoice!”

Around me, the skin of my peers began to glow, and I was certain that mine did too. I closed my eyes, tasting lilacs and honey on my lips though I had only consumed blood wine moments before.

Magic clung to the air and wove its way through the crowd. Turning those that were young fae to Sídhe.

Moira reached out and clasped my hand. “I feel it, Maeve.” She grinned.

“Me too.” I matched her smile. “We made it.”

“Bheith lúcháireach!” we cheered, then silence as our breath was stolen for a moment. One moment of vulnerability before we would awaken as Sídhe—when our bodies breathed in magic and did not ever release it.

I had never felt more ready.

My skin prickled, and my eyes fluttered closed.

It was time.

But then, the screaming started.

They came from the water.

With tridents fixed to their back, the mer pulled themselves forward on muscular arms before pushing themselves to stand. Their tails folded into the ether as their legs took shape—magic so seamless that it was militant. They wore camouflage that looked alien on land. Painted cheeks, the color of the flora that lined the lake bed.

The merfolk.

Screaming rang out in the distance. Further along the beach, I watched as several younglings stumbled back on their land legs, unused to running on sand. Dark shapes emerged from the waves like moving shadows. One of the creatures threw back its head and let out a whinny that sounded like a woman shrieking. Kelpie.

As one of the midnight black horses raced forward, moving on land with the same ease as the water, their magic snagged the undine that weren’t fast enough. Their skin caught on the horses’s dark hair like sea urchin spikes.

Blood poured from the undines’s hands, legs and faces as they were dragged through the sand by the kelpies. The herd plowed through the beach and took down the undine like a tsunami.

Moira tugged my arm. “Run!” she hissed, her face pale with fear.

I didn’t need to be told twice as I threw myself to my feet and began to run.

The sand was frozen but not enough that running was easy. Some patches gave way under our weight, cracking, while others sunk down and gripped our bare feet.

Balance was difficult. Moira and I had never been to the surface for longer than a few moments before. Magic had taken our fins and gills but had not given us the equilibrium to run in a straight line.

A heart-wrenching shriek filled my ears as an undine female in front of me fell to the sand, her dress caught in the legs of one of the kelpies. Atlana. The horse’ reared before its front legs crashed down on her chest with enough force that blood flew from her mouth.

We couldn’t stop. We had to keep moving.

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