Page 34 of Siren's Treasure

He stepped back hurriedly, feeling like his good sense had been tossed about like driftwood in a squall. What was it about this mermaid that fascinated him so much? That blazing red hair for one thing, he’d never felt silk that soft. And that obsidian gaze? Her eyes burned with fire and intelligence as she studied each new discovery in this world; it awakened in him a desire to show her more. Like what?

Like everything. Ah, Poseidon’s Wrath—now who’s falling all over who?

He watched her walk away with Morris—she had grace, even with her stumbling and tripping while she attempted to gain control of those new feet. He fought his every urge to go after her and—and carry her the rest of the way?

Don’t even think about it!

He reluctantly tore himself away from this alluring new distraction, striding toward the weapons locker near the quarterdeck. He had to pull himself together, forget about her. The ship creaked around him, the familiar symphony of wood and rope and canvas that had been the backdrop to his life. Salt spray kissed his face as the bow cut through a wave.

He noticed sailors dropping their gazes to the planks and muttering hasty apologies under their breath for getting in his way. The path before him cleared.

Yeah, message that the captain wasn’t to be angered had been received—too well maybe.

As he passed the starboard railing, something caught his attention—a strange melody coming from the waters below. The sea around the ship’s hull began to glow with an eerie blue phosphorescence, turning the foam-tipped waves into ghostly fire. He stilled, every sense screaming at him to run, to fight, todo anything than just stand there! Then a whisper, carried on the wind:

“Enemy of our people, hear me…”

He scrambled back from the railing, hand dropping to the hilt of his cutlass. Was Circe back already? His mouth opened to shout a warning to the crew, but before any sound could emerge, a massive tentacle, slick and candescent in the bright light, shot from the water. It wrapped around his neck with crushing force and dragged him over the rail.

He fell through a wind tunnel and crashed through the water’s surface, the force of his fall shocking the breath from his lungs, while the tropical warmth swallowed him, the blue-green world closing over his head as he was pulled down, down into the abyss. Ah storms and tides! There was no way for him to shift underwater without getting lost in it.

He kicked out, feeling his boot connect with something solid. A dull thud echoed through the water, and for a moment the tentacle’s grip loosened. He fought to get away, lungs burning.

“Morris!” His voice was lost in the sudden roar of waters as he broke the surface, managing only a desperate gasp before the tentacle dragged him back under again.

Water filled his mouth, salt burning his throat as he struggled against the crushing grip. Then, a melodious voice echoed against his ears: “Oh, you’re a handsome devil, aren’t you? My sister can’t have you all to herself…”

He twisted, fighting to see through the swirling currents. A monster. Not Circe! This was something else entirely—a squid? No, a woman! She had the upper body of one anyway, but below the waist, a writhing mass of bejeweled and ringed tentacles spread out like the skirts of some demonic ballgown. Her skin shimmered with an oily gleam that cast rainbows through the water, and atop her head, living coral formed a crown that moved and shifted and—and breathed.

“I’m not one to interfere,” somehow her velvety voice carried to his ears, as clear as if he thought it, “but she really is so helpless, my Thessa, darling girl—she’s my goddaughter, you know?”

Raggon choked, unable to hold his breath any longer. The creature’s bulbous eyes rolled in mock concern, and she dragged him up to the surface again with a swift motion that left his stomach somewhere in the depths. That meant this monster wanted him alive. At least for now.

He coughed up the briny seawater. As soon as he got in enough air, he turned. “What are you?”

Her chin drew back, in what could only be an insulted air, her perfect features contorting into something ancient and predatory for just an instant before smoothing back into beauty. “Fool! I am the mistress of the seas! I will rule all when Poseidon is gone! Respect me or die!”

The Sea Witch? Horror pricked at him. “You took Thessa’s siren voice!” He grappled for his dagger this time, fingers closing around the hilt.

“Naughty boy! None of that!” Her coils tightened around him like iron bands, crushing the air from his lungs as she dunked him again. The world turned to bubbles and darkness, and once more, he heard her clearly through the swirling waters: “I vowed I’d never interfere, and so I shan’t, but what am I to do? She is my dearest friend’s child.”

He didn’t believe her for a second. He fought against her grip, an unwilling captive to this monstrous creature’s droning prattle, her tentacles shimmering with hypnotic patterns through the water.

“Of course, she must find this blade to help you and—and find her freedom, but I worry for her, you see, she…” Scylla bit her lip with fake emotion. Was he truly seeing this? The gesture so human it was somehow more terrifying. “If she doesn’t find truelove with her prince before her fingers touch that blade, well… you know Undine’s curse—she’ll dissolve into seafoam after the sun sets upon the waters and all that. And you know how independent women can be—she has to really feel the romance, not that I have to tell you how to properly woo a woman.” She laughed, the sound of breaking glass beneath the waves. “Well, maybe I do—you’re a slippery eel!”

Black spots danced before his eyes. He couldn’t breathe! His body jerked. The Sea Witch let out an irritated growl, and he came up to the surface again, sputtering and coughing, the air like knives in his raw lungs.

She shook him roughly, her tentacles squeezing rhythmically like a heartbeat gone mad. “Of course, if you’re incapable of winning her heart—perhaps I can arrange for another. I just fished up a carcass down there.” Her lips curved in a smile that revealed too-sharp teeth. “Your friend with the whip seems like he’d make a fine puppet to woo her heart.”

He growled out with a violence that tore from his throat like something feral. She laughed and laughed, the sound echoing across the water like bells underwater, making him set his teeth against the smug sound. “Take her dancing, write her poetry, kiss her beneath the stars! Girls love that nonsense. It’s so charmingly predictable.”

Her tentacles tightened around him, and she tossed him out of the water with the force of cannon fire. The sea below him roared at releasing its prey. Water slid from his body as he was propelled over the railing with impossible force.

Raggon landed hard on the deck, the impact driving the remaining air from his lungs. A few men shouted at his sudden appearance. Had they truly not seen the biblical maelstrom that had materialized out of nowhere? Scylla’s magic must’ve shrouded their little tête-à-tête in illusion, keeping their meetingprivate from all other ears, though now he appeared as a man half-drowned.

He lay there for a moment, gasping, the salt water streaming from his clothes and hair the only evidence that he’d been swimming in the sea moments earlier. Somewhere, not so far from him, Scylla’s laughter rang in his ears.

He pushed himself to his elbows, staring through the railings over the edge. The water boiled and churned like a cauldron, the froth white as bone against the dark sea. Tendrils of blue light swirled beneath the surface, illuminating the massive shape as it sank back into the depths. For just a moment, he caught a glimpse of that terrible face, beautiful and monstrous, smiling up at him before the sea swallowed her whole, leaving nothing but disturbed waters as the only sign that she’d been there.

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