Page 156 of The Sea Witch's Son

“It was not my choice to work for the woman, although I suppose she has earned my loyalty.” A loud sniff draws my attention back inside the car, “A man’s soul for a lifetime of service. She drove a hard bargain, but given my state of near-imprisonment, I couldn’t well say no, now could I?”

“Attempted manslaughter is a hefty charge, mother.”

“Perhaps.” A smile streaks across her face, “Although it was worth it to hear your father’s screams. He thought he had gotten away until I made that deal. There was nowhere he could run that the Dragon wouldn’t find him.”

The car slows as we join the long line of patrons waiting to be dropped off at the entrance. All the mansions within the gated community are within walking distance, but no one would dare make the trek on foot.

Not when there's an opportunity for one's wealth and privilege to be on display.

“In that case, I hope you kept his tongue.” I glance at the gold pendant nestled between her breasts, “As a souvenir of your triumph.”

Ursela laughs, reaching up to stroke the seashell lovingly, “Oh, my dear boy. I kept a much more crucial part of your father.”

I stare at her, wondering if she kept the part of his anatomy I would rather know nothing about.

Her smile widens, “I cut out a piece of his heart.”

It is an answer I have pondered for many years and it did not disappoint.

“A heart for a heart.” A chuckle escapes me, “You are a conniving woman, mother.”

“That, I am.”

The car slows to a stop and the driver promptly clears his throat.

“We have arrived.”

Long, glistening steps make up the front entrance of the Drache Manor. Rising four-stories off the ground, the immaculate structure is built on the side of a mountain, using its leverage to tower over every other building in its vicinity.

My shoes click along black onyx as I lead my mother up the steps. Each one is stamped with a snarling dragon, the vicious creature breathing fire as you walk along.

The tinted windows that frame the monstrous building soar high into the sky, their dark colour offering a warped image of what to expect inside.

“Would it kill her to add a little bit of colour?” Letting out a huff, Ursela eyes the black diamond statues guarding the door, “Might help brighten the place up.”

“That would ruin the aesthetic, mother.” Patting her hand, I lead her through the door, “The Dragon’s lair is no place for colour.”

The great hall unravels before us in a kaleidoscope of sparkling jewelry and overpriced gowns. Champagne and hors d’oeuvres are being passed around while the villains of Wolf Hollow mingle and laugh with barely masked disdain.

We are all foes here. Foes who are forced to tolerate one another under the watchful eye of the Dragon.

“Did I tell you my strapping boy beat his personal record yesterday?” The booming voice drifts through the crowd, “He will be the next bodyweight champion, just you wait and see.”

Gaston Cartier slaps the back of a spindly man standing beside him. The man splutters, spewing out champagne and drawing snickers from nearby spectators.

“That man needs to learn social etiquette.” Muttering under her breath, Ursela steals a snack from a passing waiter, “Always talking about hunting or that son of his. It’s downright nauseating.”

“It is rare to find a proud parent in this town.” Musing the thought out loud, I watch the patriarch check his teeth in anearby reflection, “Tragic such an admirable quality was wasted on so few brain cells.”

My mother snorts, “Madame Cartier is no better. Not a lick of common sense between the two of them.”

The woman in question is standing off to the side, making herself useful by collecting an array of snacks for her husband and son. She is easily the most beautiful woman in the room, her flawless dark skin perfectly accented by the crimson colour of her gown.

It has been nearly two decades since Gaston’s little wife won the title of Miss Nigeria, but no amount of time could diminish such natural beauty.

“Ursela Seaborn.”

The deep, accented voice draws our attention to the richest man in the room. His servant steps forward and offers us a bow, his simple cream-coloured uniform embedded with the Malik family crest.

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