Page 14 of Siren's Treasure

Raggon sank down against the damp dirt, taking in his new prison. Scratch marks covered the cement walls, endless notches for days that other unlucky souls had spent in this dungeon. Half-buried in the moldy straw, he spotted what might have been shackles—and flinched when he looked closer.

Nope. Bones.

He rested his head in hands. The Typhon’s Kiss scraped against his cheeks. The metal felt warmer than before, his skin colder. Was it actually drawing the heat from his body? Anything was possible with Circe’s dark magic. And still he felt a raw hope, that perhaps he had no right to feel, but he clung to it—Tobias. The witch wanted his brother alive.

Wherever he was, Raggon prayed he was safe.

Squeezing his eyes shut, flashes of fiery hair flooded his thoughts. “Undine’s curse,” he muttered. He was never going to get over that kiss, was he? The siren’s spell was more potent than anything Circe had done to him.

Was Poseidon really dying? And now Scylla was forming an alliance with her sister—what did that mean for them all? The last domain free from Circe’s power had been the sea.

His gaze dropped to the manacles, studying once again that flaw he’d spotted in their design, where the metals rejected each other like oil and water. Even Circe’s magic couldn’t force two opposing elements to truly become one.

Sounded familiar.I’ll never marry that hag!

He hurriedly undid the heel in his boots to retrieve a small crescent knife. In the guttering torchlight, he began to work at that resistant seam, where the two magics fought against their forced union. If he could widen that gap, force the metals further apart… His hands trembled with exhaustion, making the knife slip against the enchanted metal. Each scrape echoed off the damp walls.

He’d barely made a scratch, and still that hair-thin line taunted him. Like the mermaid’s kiss—his thoughts remained tormented by visions of hair floating like flame through the crystal water, her curious dark eyes, the softness of her lips. Was that part of her spell too? To make him remember her beauty even as her betrayal destroyed him?

The knife slipped again, this time drawing blood from his palm. He cursed under his breath. The Typhon’s Kiss held firm, as unyielding as Circe’s plans for his future.

Chapter eight

“Hello?”

Thessa braced her shoulders, staring around her at the massive basalt cavern polished from the sea’s deep currents into a dark mirror. Ethereal blue-green algae pulsed its glow in slow, hypnotic rhythms. Thessa’s hair drifted around her face like living coral, each strand casting writhing shadows against ridged ancient formations.

This is where the most powerful witch of the sea resided? The walls bristled with shelves laden with glass vials that glowed with sickly light and contained too many twitching eyes or teeth. There were no comforts, no trinkets or treasures like the stories told, only strands of kelp hanging from the ceiling, heavy with bottles that clinked together in the currents. Their contents cast strange, shifting colors across the stone.

“Scylla?” Her voice wavered, though she tried to stop it.

Could such a powerful being really live amidst such trappings? To be quite honest, if Thessa embraced the life of an evil witch,she’d surround herself with fractured rainbows and gardens of rare deep sea-flowers.

And her sisters would condemn such talk. Thessa’s heart clenched as she thought of them. She hadn’t bothered to tell them that she’d come to visit the Sea Witch—if they knew, Thessa wouldn’t have been able to swim away from the palace walls—Nephele would’ve locked her up to stop her… which was too bad because if something tragic happened, they’d never know. The thought sent a chill through her.

“Why have you asked for me?” Thessa’s voice echoed through the silent cavern.

That’s when she noticed that the walls pulsated… the cavern was alive. The corroded surface cracked to reveal one flicking bulbous eye that immediately found her in the dim light. Then another eye opened, and another—dozens of them, glowing with a sickly yellow phosphorescence. Thessa let out a scream and twisted around, ramming straight into a soft body. Gasping, this time in embarrassment, she scrambled backward and sought out the eyes of the smiling lady before her. “Scylla?”

“Yes, my dear…” The voice was nauseatingly sweet, unbelievable in a way that made Thessa’s back prickle with unease. The Sea Witch emerged fully into the strange flickering lights. Where she’d expected a monster, Thessa beheld a bright vision. Scylla’s upper body was that of a woman with skin that shimmered like mother-of-pearl in sunlight, each movement sending ripples of iridescence across her form. But below her waist, eight massive tentacles spread out in a billowing array of midnight purple and deep emerald, each one adorned with gold rings and bangles that chimed softly as she moved.

“I had been hoping to see you!” Scylla’s hair floated around her like a living crown of sea silk, each strand refracting the lights in rainbow patterns. A headdress of living coral grew directly from her temples, small creatures darting in and out of its branches.“You are dearer than your good mother described.” She clapped merrily, making the earrings fashioned from an abundance of black pearls swing around a heart-shaped face.

With difficulty, Thessa tried not to react. Either Scylla was putting on the performance of a lifetime, or the rumors about her were dead wrong.

There were laugh lines on the woman’s face. Hadn’t Nerissa said that she was a horrible writhing beast? But then, Nerissa always embellished her juicy tales. Laugh lines couldn’t be faked.

Thessa swallowed, trying to steady her racing heart. “My sister said that—that…”

“I’d bring your father to his full health in return for your help?” Scylla’s tentacles propelled her gracefully across the cavern as she turned, setting down a net woven from silver kelp strands. The net held an assortment of strange, pulsing objects that Thessa tried not to look at too closely—some of the grotesque forms seemed to be looking back. “Ah! I trusted the court gossip would meet your ears—you can’t keep back a good story!” The Sea Witch placed her net next to a desk carved from a massive abalone shell, its surface shifting with rainbow hues in the dim light. “I really don’t understand the fuss anyway—I’d help your father in a heartbeat, but there are customs to be met, and besides… I can’t do it by myself. I need your help. I’ve heard of you, my dear—you have a healing touch.”

How had she heard that? The question stuck in Thessa’s throat. “But I’ve told no one.”

“The sea has ears, my love.” Scylla’s tentacles curled and uncurled as she spoke, like the languid movements of anemone tendrils. “Nothing gets past me. You have great powers with that siren voice of yours.” One tentacle gestured dismissively. “The waves tell me such tales… and I’ve heard the mischief you’ve been up to as of late.” The Sea Witch tittered, the sound echoingstrangely in the living cavern. “But I expect nothing less from my goddaughter.”

“Goddaughter?” The word echoed against the walls, and several bottles trembled in response. All Thessa could do was repeat the strange woman’s words—Scylla’s every revelation was so completely unexpected from everything she’d heard. And now the Sea Witch had some strange connection to her? Her eyes darted to a shelf where a bottle containing silvery wisps formed and reformed into faces she almost recognized. “Are—are you sure you’re my godmother?”

Scylla threw her arms against her hips with a bright laugh that set the bangles on her tentacles chiming. “I can’t say I’m surprised you never knew. Your mother and I were the best of friends, but well…” A tentacle reached up to stroke one of her dangling earrings thoughtfully. “Amphitrite couldn’t go about boasting of our adventures, especially since she was married to your father, not after the rumors thrown around about me. I’m sure you’ve heard the worst of them.”

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