Page 18 of Beasts of Shadows #1

Ashki shivers against me. I tighten my arm around her, pulling the soaked wool blanket tighter over both of us. The useless thing smells like mildew and rot, but it’s the only thing making me feel better.

Nikolai tips the crystal bottle.

“How’s she holding up?”

“I can speak for myself,” Ashki retorts, her eyes flickering with fire. Despite the grim situation, I can’t help but grin. Finally, someone besides me who will unabashedly put Nikolai in his place. “And I’m fine. I’m very brave.”

“Of course you are.” He’s all serious, not a hint of mockery.

I glance outside, to the rising line of water beyond the dome. The pressure’s shifting. The groans of the metal are more frequent now. Desperate. Dying.

“Thirsty?”

Nikolai offers the glass to Ashki.

“Are you out of your mind? She’s a kid .”

“You mortals and your inconsistent rules,” Nikolai groans. “Twenty-one to drink, eighteen to die for your country. Swear eternal love on a whim, then act surprised when eternity shows up to collect.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting.

“But sure— we’re the irrational ones.”

Why does he have to be right ?

I take the bottle from Nikolai’s hand and toss back a shot. It goes down thick and slimy, tasting of ancient grapes and honey. It’s like cough syrup, but I do my best to hide my gag.

“I guess that means there’s one thing we can agree on. Relationships are stupid.”

Something shifts in Nikolai’s features—just a flicker, too fast to name. Not quite amusement.

Ironic, maybe.

Like he’s remembering something I don’t have the context for.

Or watching me echo a punchline to a joke I’ll get later.

“The woman in the doorway,” I begin. Nikolai stiffens. “You called her ‘mom.’”

“Interesting observation. Most people signal a question by raising their voice at the end.”

I lean forward. “Fine. Why would a goddess adopt you? What makes you so special?” Nikolai’s knuckles turn white around the glass.

He sneers.

“Are we trading secrets, now? I’m quite curious about the friend you killed. Lover? Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t most mortals consider that a sin ?”

“Your kind kills plenty.”

“My kind wrote the book on sin.”

“What exactly are you? If I’m going to die, I should at least know that.”

“Interesting last wish,” Nikolai teases. “If I were on my deathbed, I’d want more attractive company. Like your friend’s. Someone easier on the eyes—and easier to silence.”

I’m not offended. Nikolai is hot, but he’s no catch.

I don’t care if someone like him finds me repulsive.

He’s clearly just trying to divert my question away by belittling my sense of self-worth.

Like I’m going to crumple at the idea that a guy with seafoam eyes and a superiority complex doesn’t want me.

Please. I’ve survived worse things than rejection.

But… damnit , it stings my pride a bit. I’m not jealous of his blatant infatuation with Reema. Deities, half the Institute is in love with her. Still—I’m not hideous .

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Just because you’re going to the grave doesn’t mean I’m sending my secrets with you.”

I huff a bitter laugh and tip back what’s left of my drink. “Fine. Then I’ll go first.”

If I’m going to bleed, I may as well bleed on my own terms. No more dancing around it. No more dodging ghosts. He wants to know what kind of monster I am? I’ll show him.

Nikolai arches a brow. “Oh?”

“You want to know about the boy I killed?” I lean forward, planting my elbows on the table. “His name was Ravi. He was my first kiss. First… everything.”

The words taste like rust. I expect them to hurt more coming out. But they don’t.

Maybe they already hollowed me out on the way in.

Nikolai doesn’t move. But the air shifts. Focused. Alert.

“I got him high,” I go on. “We swam out into choppy waters. I left and watched the waves pull him under.”

I remember the sound of him laughing like nothing could touch us. How I pretended I didn’t hear him call my name. How I told myself it had to happen. It was the only way…

The silence that follows is thick. Not judgmental. Just… still. Like the seconds after you break something valuable and the world waits to see if you’ll pick up the pieces or just walk away.

Nikolai studies me, silent. His seafoam eyes gleam like something ancient’s waking up behind them.

Then—he tips his glass toward me in a slow, deliberate motion. “That,” he says, “might be the first impressive thing you’ve said all night.”

I blink. “What?”

You murder a boy and get a gold star from the school’s golden boy of cruelty? What a world.

“You were seventeen, weren’t you?”

“Sixteen.”

His smile curves, crooked and unreadable. “And you still let him drown.”

I can’t tell if it’s admiration or something worse. But I don’t look away.

I won’t.

“You’re more like us monsters than you think,” he says.

Monsters .

The word settles in my chest like a shard of ice. But it fits, doesn’t it?

I don’t know whether to be flattered or terrified.

Instead, I grab the half-empty bottle between us and pour another shot. The liquor sloshes, a little too fast, but I don’t care.

I’ve done worse things than drink my regrets down.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” I mutter.

“I disagree.”

I take another gulp before handing the bottle back. The burn doesn’t hit as hard this time. Just a slow, dull warmth spreading through my chest.

Everything feels light. Airy.

Am I drunk? What was in that bottle?

“When I die,” I begin, “my only claim to fame will be that the only person I ever slept with is also the guy I killed. That’s bleak.”

“And tragic,” Nikolai says. “Kind of pathetic.”

His smile falters. Just for a beat. Then it returns—slower, more dangerous.

“You’re drunk,” he says, but it’s low. Soft. Not a warning. An observation. “This really does a number on mortals.”

“Maybe.” I swirl the liquid in the bottle. “Just drunk enough to care, but not enough to lie.”

I shift, a thought fluttering across my mind.

“Wait, did you want to get me drunk?”

His gaze drops to my lips. The space between us narrows.

“Yes,” he scoffs, tone dipped in sarcasm. “Because I knew you were going to steal my drink.”

Still, there’s something in his cadence that seems off.

He offered the glass to Ashki, first.

The same way I offered Ravi a joint before we went into the water.

It takes a minute, but my addled brain works through what Nikolai was hoping to accomplish.

“You’re trying to dull our senses, so we don’t panic.” I accuse.

I sit up, noting the way his pupils become full blown, then narrow.

He doesn’t like what I’ve said because it’s true.

I laugh onto my back, burying my hands across my face.

“Oh gods, who would have guessed that Nikolai the Great was a big softy in the end?”

I spare him a look between my fingers, and am only a little alarmed to see how his gaze has darkened.

His fingers brush mine. Light. Testing.

I frown at the connecting flesh. For a man with a heart of ice, his skin is delightfully warm. I wonder if the rest of him is just as comforting?

I’d be only too happy to have him cover me, instead of the old blanket.

“I drank too much,” I confess. It feels like the right thing to utter. Something to change the way he’s looking at me.

“Who would have guessed you were such a lightweight?”

I should throw something at him.

Instead, I lower my hands and meet his gaze head-on. “You act like I’ve had a choice.”

“In drinking?” he asks, one brow ticking up.

“In any of this.” I gesture vaguely. “The island. The Institute. You.”

That last word lingers. Stupid. Reckless.

But I’m too tired to backpedal. And maybe too far gone to care.

He’s silent. A single breath passes between us.

Two.

Then he leans in, one hand braced on the side of my face, cupping my cheek, the other still hovering near mine like he’s waiting for me to pull away. I don’t. I can’t.

“You keep looking at me like I’m going to hurt you,” he says, voice low. Controlled.

“You keep looking at me like you want to,” I shoot back.

His jaw tics. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No?” I whisper, my throat dry. “Then what do you want?”

A long pause.

“I want…” His eyes search mine like they’re a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. Then they fall—again—to my mouth. “I want to forget who I am, just for a second.”

And then his lips are on mine.

It’s not gentle.

It’s not sweet.

It’s a collision of teeth and breath and every sharp, unsaid thing between us. He kisses like he’s starving for something I shouldn’t be able to give him. Like he resents me for it—and wants me anyway.

And I kiss him back like I’m drowning. Like I need something solid to cling to, and his mouth is the only lifeline I’ve got.

His hand slips into my hair, the other curling around my waist like he’s trying to decide whether to pull me closer or hold me still.

I make the decision for him.

With a soft noise that surprises even me, I press into him, matching his hunger, stealing it. Owning it.

He groans against my lips.

And then it’s over.

We pull back. Barely.

Our foreheads rest together, breath mingling. His eyes search mine again—this time less sure. Like he’s waiting for me to take it back. Call it a mistake.

But I don’t.

Instead, I whisper, “Sharp tongue. Sweet mouth. Not fair.”

His mouth curls.

And then he kisses me again.

Slower.

Like he means it.

My pulse spikes. I should pull back. I don’t. Gods help me, I lean in.

Then…

“Wait.”

I jerk upright, eyes darting to the spot beside me.

Empty.

“Ashki.”

My stomach knots. That familiar throb of wrong pulsing at the base of my spine. I twist in my seat, scanning the room.

Ashki stands by the far edge of the dome, where the wall curves into ceiling. Her hands are pressed to the glass, her face too still. Too pale.

A ripple of pressure tightens in my chest.

The warmth of Nikolai’s mouth is still on mine, but it curdles into something cold. Real. The moment’s gone. Because of course it is. Nothing soft survives this place.

“What’re ya doing, kid?” I try to keep my tone light and playful, but it dies off at the eerie way Ashki places her head against the glass.

“Don’t you hear it? It’s the most beautiful song.”

Nikolai and I exchange confused looks. Now that she mentions it, there’s a low hum permeating the room. When I close my eyes, I can pick out a chant.

Nā nā nā O ān A.

It’s…soothing. Like being rocked to sleep by your favorite lullaby.

The chant curls through my thoughts like warm saltwater. I blink—slow, heavy-lidded. My hand lifts without meaning to.

I want to sleep. I want to walk into the sea. I want…

Nikolai catches my hand and jerks me back down.

“It’s a mermaid.”

I free my hand from Nikolai’s grip. Why’s he so concerned?

“She’s not hurting anyone.” The words snap out sharper than I mean them to, but the song is curling through my thoughts now, soft and slow. It’s pulling at something deep.

“Eventually,” Nikolai drawls, arms folding as he leans against the wall. “It’s all song and shimmer until someone’s entrails are floating past your knees.”

Ashki doesn’t move. Her breath fogs the glass as she hums along, eyes glazed, lips parted like she’s dreaming in someone else’s skin.

I shift to her, pulse racing. “Ashki. Hey—look at me.”

She doesn’t blink.

The dome groans. A crack blooms across the glass above us, delicate as a vine.

Nikolai watches it, unimpressed.

“This again. They always think theatrics will make up for actual leverage.”

“No,” I whisper, breath catching. “ She’s answering. ”

Something stirs the water outside.

She glides forward slowly—long white limbs, hair like dark silk waving behind her. Her eyes are too big, too black. A mermaid. She stops just beyond the dome, hovering like she owns the sea.

I rise and press my palm to the glass beside Ashki’s. The mermaid mirrors me. Her mouth doesn’t move, but I feel the words vibrate beneath my ribs.

“ Blood for breath. Breath for safe passage. Choose.”

“She wants a sacrifice.” My voice barely escapes me.

Nikolai rolls his eyes and walks away a few steps. “Of course she does. They’re always bartering like market rats. A little blood, a little breath, some poor fool’s soul—they can’t just open the door like civilized creatures.”

Ashki stirs, eyes wide. “Nari… please don’t—.”

I turn to her fast, grabbing her shoulders. “No, don’t worry. It’s not yours she wants.”

The mermaid’s gaze flickers—still, patient.

“I’ll do it.”

“Why would she want your blood?” Nikolai scoffs, looking me up and down like I’m offering scrap metal to a queen. Like he wasn’t just interested in me, himself. “Mortal blood’s a dime a dozen.”

“ But divine echoes are rare.”

I peer back at the mermaid, trying to piece together what that means. Does it have something to do with being a part of Cody’s family? I’ve never heard the phrase before, but I guess if they’re rare, that explains why.

Nikolai continues to vent before I can ask.

“Of course you’d bleed for her. You humans love making martyrs of yourselves.” Nikolai turns back, lifting a brow.

“I’ve got more to give than Ashki does.” I roll up my sleeve. “And less to lose.”

I free the athame Reema slipped into my pack yesterday. The mermaid leans in hungrily, watching with the stillness of something that has all the time in the world.

Nikolai scoffs, arms folded again. “You think slicing yourself open makes you brave? That she’ll thank you for your theatrics?”

“Do you have a better idea that gets all of us out?”

Nikolai tilts his head with lazy amusement. “Go on then. Make a show of it. You mortals always think a little blood buys you redemption.”

Dragging my teeth together, I press the blade into my skin. Quick, clean. Blood beads up fast, hot and bright. The pain isn’t as bad as I expected, although sweat gathers on my brow. I do my best to keep it hidden.

“Blood for breath,” I whisper.

The mermaid opens her mouth wide.

There’s no sound—but the pressure lurches. The sea churns.

Then… release .

The groaning stops. The ship stills.

Outside, the water draws back, retreating into a long, narrow tunnel of air. A path carved through the ocean like it’s been waiting for us.

Ashki gasps. “You did it.”

The athame drops from my hand, clicking against the floor.

The mermaid vanishes.

Nikolai’s expression curls into something between disgust and reluctant acknowledgment.

“You actually entertained one of them. ”

I press my hand over the cut. It’s still bleeding, but I don’t flinch.

We make our way out of the Mary Celeste.