Page 38 of Wicked Tides
So, all sirens were liars. No matter. I needed to kill everything I could lest they follow me on my trip back to the Burning Rose, so Irenewed my grip on my weapon and turned as one of the slimy beasts charged my way.
I really would have liked my night to go differently, but death and murder it was.
Suddenly, a figure leaped up from behind the creature and latched onto his back. It was the woman who freed me. She was small in comparison to the xhoth, but she wrapped her skinny limbs around him and her sharp teeth came down on the fleshy bend of his shoulder, ripping a thick chunk right off of him. Dark blood fountained out of his neck and I took that chance to drive him through with my blade.
Chaos ensued. If it was moving, I killed it and I did it furiously. I would have liked to slaughter every last thing on that island, but something in the back of my mind was stopping me. Instead, I held up my end of the bargain, reluctantly avoiding the sirens with every swing of my blade until the island eventually fell silent.
Of course, I’d only agreed to help kill the creatures. What I did next was entirely improvised.
I saw Dahlia’s body tied up within the cluster of stones. Her blood painted the wet slate and trailed in red streams deep in the stony grooves beneath her. Black hair fanned out around her head. She was unconscious. Perfect.
Before the excitement of the fight had left me, I bent and scooped Dahlia’s body over my shoulder. She was heavier than she looked or I was weaker than I thought after the whole ordeal. Either way, I groaned as I straightened, holding my sword in one hand as I turned to face what was now two silver-haired sirens standing in front of me. The second one must have joined in the fight, but I was too consumed with the slaughter to notice. And clearly, she was wounded by the way her hands were pressed firmly over her side and blood was trickling down her right leg.
The one who’d given me the blade glared daggers at me and I let my lips slant into a smirk, pointing the tip of my blood-drenched bronze at her.
“I held up my end,” I said. She stepped forward as if to try and take Dahlia from me and I quickly lifted the blade until the point of it was pressed up against Dahlia’s abdomen. So many organs there to slice through. “Ah, ah,” I warned. “Now, I can tell she means a lot. She can call off her sisters whether she’s with you or with me, but I don’t trust her to do it if I hand her over.”
“You can’t—”
“Get to the boat that’s washed up on the other side of this island?” I chuckled. “Not as good at hiding things as you are at lying, are you?”
“If you’re going to kill her,” the other one grimaced. “Just do it.”
“Oh, I’d rather have a nice little chat now that we’ve all gotten our fill of killing for a few hours. I’m going to take your precious sister with me and if you try anything, I’ll cut her open so fast she won’t even be able to scream.”
“You don’t know where your ship is,” she retorted.
My smirk turned to a grin. “You know the tides,” I said. “I know the wind. I’ll find them well enough.”
. . .
Damn Gus and his incessant songs. I found myself humming one of his tunes as I rowed off in the boat toward the sunrise. Without the cover of night and the sea mist, I could see the faint peaks of Grissom Island in the distance and I knew my crew was smart enough to use it as a landmark if they were making a sweep of the area. I wasn’t worried about finding them. I did, however, find myself looking over the edge of the boat from time to time wondering if I’d see something stalking beneath. No doubt something was down there, too deep for my eyes to find.
I kept humming and shaking my head at the insanity of it all. I was in the middle of the ocean on a dinghy with my greatest enemy tied up and unconscious only a couple strides away from me. I’d discovered another menace in the waters and somehow, I was still alive. I laughed out loud at the whole thing. How many times could I surviveimpossible situations before death decided he was bored with our game?
When a wave caught the boat just right to make a loud knock against the side and jostle us a bit, I glanced at Dahlia’s body secured on the other end of the boat. In the daylight, I could see much more of her than I had previously. Her ashen white skin was so smooth save for the marks that littered it. Scars and new injuries mingled on the planes of her body. I’d adjusted her binds so her wrists were tightly bound with crude rope to the furthest seat in the boat. That scar on her cheek stood out among all the other blemishes, even the thin mark that spanned the front of her throat. It was clean, but prominent, marring an otherwise striking face. She was thin, but not soft by any means. Lean muscle tone made her into something lethal.
On her exposed legs, I saw multiple cuts, but one was quite deep and spanned the length of her outer thigh as if the xhoth had meant to maim her. They hadn’t cut any chunks away, so either they hadn’t started eating or they had other plans.
When another wave rocked the boat hard enough for Dahlia to roll a little, she sucked in a ragged breath and coughed wetly. Her whole face tensed as she began choking up blood. Turning over, she let what looked like a whole lungful of watery blood out onto the floor. I stopped rowing and fixed the oars on the sides of the boat, watching her.
She was about to realize what was going on and whatever she did was going to determine what I did next.
Dahlia turned her head toward the brightening sky and squinted, groaning through her discomfort before she slowly realized her bound wrists. She tugged on the restraints, testing them, and then her eyes wandered toward me. They shot wide, but not out of fear. It was fury and hatred burning in those eyes like she’d rather get to me than escape.
“Stop your struggling,” I said calmly.
She let out a low, animalistic growl, showing her fangs, and struggled to her feet. I furrowed my brows, watching her ignore thedeep gash in her thigh as she braced her foot on the seat. The boat rocked violently and with a grumble, I gripped the sides trying to steady it. She was like a wolf caught in a bear trap. I half expected her to start gnawing off her arms to get away.
“Stop,” I demanded.
She yanked on her binds, using her foot to add to the strength of her effort. Once. Twice. On the third, the seat splintered a bit.
“Stop!” I roared.
She yanked again. She was fucking strong. I leaped to my feet and marched forward, pulling out that old blade from my belt. Dahlia whipped her head toward me with another snarl, her wrists bleeding from the friction. And, as I would with any wild beast that was out of control, I sought to restrain her. She glimpsed my bronze blade and tugged again, making the seat’s middle bend and crack. Then she started trying to capsize us.
“Christ!” I exclaimed, grabbing her by her slender neck and knocking her to the floor.
