Page 34 of Cathmoir’s Sons (Bad Boys of Bevington #5)

Chapter 34

Morally Graeae

CAILEáN

T he black-hulled boat has multiplied into a flotilla when we return to Torre Faro.

“The good news is they’re anchored on the far side of the Tritones’ Trench, nowhere near the anticline,” Law observes as he joins me at the tideline. He slides his arms around me, his leather jacket squeaking against my wetsuit, and rests his chin on the top of my head.

“They’re diving in the wrong place,” I say with a tip of my imaginary fedora. “Is there bad news?”

Law hums. “My Cait warned me this morning that the Wepwawet have been seen in Scilla. They hired one of those boats. Your tech-mage says someone named van Wycke is with them.”

“Benighted Mother. Either the Wepwawet or van Wycke are annoying enough on their own. Them joining forces is not a good thing.”

“What can I do to keep them away from you?” Law asks.

I turn in his arms and slide mine around his neck. “I love you.”

His grin breaks slow across his face, dimples popping up as his cheeks stretch. “I love you, too.”

“I love that you’re here with me and looking out for me and thinking of all the things I’m not thinking about while I focus on the mechanics of the hunt.”

I kiss him, savoring his taste, and nip his lip to flavor our kiss with a hint of copper.

“I want you to be happy, too,” I say. “Are you happy?”

He strokes his fingertips down the curve of my cheek. “Watching your joy as you do what you were born to do makes me happy. Watching you solve mysteries with my brother, seeing the two of you shine together, makes me happy. Imagining you swelling with our kits makes me happy. Seeing my people start lives of peace and plenty in this new den makes me happy. And, of course, spending several hours buried inside you last night made me very happy?—”

I elbow him. “You’re so bad.”

He pulls me closer and kisses the tip of my nose. “Fated mates are supposed to bring each other joy, Caileán, but I never imagined how much being your mate would fulfil me. I couldn’t see beyond my father’s plans. My future was nothing more than the never-ending war against the Mirk. Jedburgh Abbey freed me. You freed me. I know that’s not why you joined the battle. I know the destruction of the Mirk’s barghest army was not the point of defeating the Thunderer. But the consequences of the battle have been wondrous for me and the Cait. My people haven’t seen a single barghest on either side of the Veil since the battle. There’s not a whiff of the Mirk anywhere. For the first time in living memory, my people are safe. I know I’ll face challenges as their king, but nothing like leading them in a war against a foe that outnumbered us so terribly. You’ve made my future as bright as yours. We can shine together.”

My throat grows tight as he speaks. “I’m so glad, Law. You know I would have supported you no matter what. But I’m so glad your life won’t be unending war. You have so much potential. All three of you do.” I nip his chin when he starts to say something mean about Rhodes. “All three of you do. I’m so proud to be with you and so excited to see what we can do together.”

“Be careful out there today,” he says, between more kisses. “I know you are experienced and wise. I know you know how precious you are to us. But I truly couldn’t endure it if anything happened to you.”

“I promise to be careful. Put some thought into how we might scupper those boats without damaging them too much. I don’t want to ruin the captains’ livelihood.”

Law glances at the sky, eyes glinting. “I could always buy them new boats. I am a prince, you know.”

I poke him in the ribs. “Throwing your wealth around is obnoxious. I hate it.”

He grins. “I’ll try to think of a plan that doesn’t involve throwing my wealth around. There were seas in Faery once. I bet we could find them with the demons’ help. Perhaps your rivals could take a few days’ sail around Faery’s lost seas. You never know what treasures they might recover.”

“You never know what might eat them. But by all means, involve Jou in your schemes. The two of you seem to get along. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, by the way.”

“We understand each other,” Law says, his grin turning evil. “Do you know that this is the Baroness’ second clutch? They already have three kits.”

“Yes, I’ve met their babies. They’re even more terrifying than Teddy’s twins. Thank the Mother Jou won’t let them leave Hell yet. And don’t get your hopes up. It’s very common for demons to have multiples. It’s not nearly as common for fae.”

“But it’s not unknown,” Law says as he reaches down to cup my belly. “Luca and I are far from the only Cait twins. I can hope our blood runs true.”

I poke him again. “You can hope we have a healthy baby, which is all we should ever hope for. Okay, I’m getting in the water before you somehow manage to impregnate me a second time. Thank you again for the athame,” I say, referring to the gold knife I have strapped to my thigh. Rhodes, Arch, and Gabe picked out athames as well. I hope we won’t have to use them in anything other than a ritual sense.

He kisses me a final time before he releases me. As I step back out of his arms, he narrows his eyes at me. “That wasn’t goodbye.”

“Of course not. It was, ‘I’ll be back soon, my love’.”

“Better. You don’t have permission to say goodbye.”

I lift my eyebrows at him. “I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”

The smirk he throws me is too cocky to be justified by his race. “Now you know.”

He strolls back up the sand to Danny’s tent.

As we approach the large mound the tritones call the Devourer’s Breast, I remember that lemon and saffron lobster I saw previously. Do the lobster’s colors mean it would taste good with lemon and saffron? I think we should find out.

Benighted Mother, I’ve been pregnant for two seconds and all I can think about is food.

The seaweed waving below me looks like salad. With delicious local cheese and a salty vinaigrette. By the time the baby comes, we’ll have fresh tomatoes and peppers from the garden behind the villa that I’ve already seen the bwg mulching.

I shake these thoughts out of my head and focus on the hunt. Rhodes swims ahead of me, his movements as smooth and flowing as the current. Although I feel stronger and more confident after several days of diving, I’m still happy for him to lead me.

Gabe swims behind me, towing Arch. I wanted Val to come for this first foray into the sea caves, but Arch vetoed her inclusion as too dangerous. Despite his impatience, Arch is a good leader. He’s always put the safety of the team first and I’m glad to see his return to form.

Rhodes crests the mound and drops down on the far side, toward the cave I saw the lobster emerge from. There’s no lobster today, just waving sea grass and the dark, empty mouth of the cave. Rhodes hovers at the cave mouth, his dark eyes on mine. Waiting for my signal.

I reach out and stroke his cheek. I’ve never felt so loved, so respected, so cared for, as I’ve felt here in Italy with these three men.

I nod at the cave. Rhodes smiles at me, blowing thin streams of bubbles out of the sides of his mouth, before ducking into the cave.

The cave entrance is a fissure in the rock: ten or twelve feet wide in the middle, tapering into jagged teeth above and below us. Are the rock formations stalactites and stalagmites? Was this cave once above water? I think so. I’m not a geologist but I’ve learned the basics as I’ve worked on excavations all over the world.

The water around me darkens, then grows faintly luminous as I follow Rhodes. The luminosity ripples through the cave, waves of blue and green and the faintest gold sparking from the cave walls. Small invertebrates extend white and yellow fronds toward the light. They retract as we pass and I realize the light’s coming from Rhodes. That’s not a Water power I’ve ever heard of, and I wonder if Dittman taught it to him. I can see how it would be useful for a White Cloak.

A group of dark orange starfish ripple through the rocks and shells littering the cave floor, flowing around the sharp spires of rock. In their wake dart a few shy, striped fish. Rhodes points down suddenly and I follow his finger with my eyes. Half-hidden between scrubby patches of weed are the cracked and broken tiles of what was once an ornate mosaic floor in white, black, and rich red, washed to rust in Rhodes’ light.

I move slowly over the mosaic, trying to find the pattern. Rhodes tugs on the cord connecting us and I follow him. The broken mosaic winds around a corner of the cave and then comes together in a geometric pattern: a twisting white and red border that frames bold black squares and red lotus flowers. I stare at it, committing the pattern to memory so I can draw it for Luca. It’s beautiful, a treasure in its own right, but I hope it leads to an even greater treasure.

We follow the mosaic on through a narrow neck of the cave. Rhodes pulls us along, his hand skimming the rock walls as they hem us in.

The mosaic ends abruptly and stone steps rise from the floor, scattered with shells and dotted with what looks like lichen. The stone steps rise to a dark circle in the cave’s ceiling. Rhodes climbs onto the steps and sticks his head up through the hole. He tugs on the cord for me to follow.

I climb up after him, my head breaking through the water into a dark space, full of air. I pull on my Element to inflate my lungs and reach back into the water, closing my hand into a fist so Gabe and Arch won’t follow. I can use my Element to breathe but Arch will suffocate so long as Viv’s gill spell holds.

The darkness ebbs in ripples of blue and green as three small spheres of water rise from the water lapping around my chest. They spin around Rhodes, softly illuminating a space much larger than the cave we’ve come through.

It’s a dry cave. A short, sandy beach rings the water gate we’ve come through. More of the mosaic decorates the floor, the blue of waves joining the white, black, and red design. A double row of life-sized, stone statues leads deeper into the cave. Rhodes climbs fully out of the portal and stands dripping on the tiles, the watery spheres circling his head. He holds his hand out to me, and I climb out to join him.

“I don’t think we’re in the anticline anymore,” I whisper to him, wheezing slightly as I use my Element to counteract the gills that are fluttering futilely on my neck. “This feels like another Plane.”

Rhodes nods. “My Element’s responding normally. We can’t be far away from our own.”

My Element is, too; we could be in Faery or the upper levels of Hell.

I squeeze Rhodes’ hand and lead him down the aisle between the statues. They’re all male, in a variety of clothes from wetsuits near the pool to short trousers and sandals as we reach a dark archway.

The statues have a common expression: fear. Some of them hold up their hands pleadingly.

“Charybdis definitely wasn’t a Gorgon, right?” Rhodes mutters as we pass a cowering statue.

“Are you thinking these aren’t statues?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

“I’ve never heard of any ancient creature other than Medusa turning men to stone.”

“This is not giving me any comfort,” Rhodes says.

I don’t have any comfort to offer. The statues are creepy, and I’d be willing to believe they didn’t start as stone.

The final statues framing the archway grip it as though they’re peering into the space beyond. Struck by a sudden premonition, I hiss to Rhodes, “Close your eyes.”

He does just as light flares beyond the archway.

“Clever witch,” a rough voice says.

I blink until my eyes adjust to the light, gray and swirling like the Mists of Faery. I get the sense of a round room but the walls are obscured by the tricky light. In the middle of the room sit three women on carved and painted curules , low foldable stools, their gray hair streaming to the floor. Despite their gray hair, their faces are smooth, ageless, eyeless. The one on the right wears a beige pants suit and stilettos and could have just stepped off a runway. The one in the middle wears a linen peplos , gracefully draped and bloused at her waist. The one on the left wears furs mottled tan and brown, cinched at the waist by a ragged rope that tangles in her hair. They all wear wide collars and cuffs of beaten silver. The one in the middle leans forward, a black eye opening in the middle of her forehead.

From the hard clutch of fear in my gut as the Graeae stares at me, I can guess who she is. “Deino,” I say to acknowledge her.

She cackles. “Well met, dark sister. Come to try your luck?”

“Yes,” I admit. “Will you let us pass?”

“Of course,” Deino responds. Her pale lips split into a wide smile. The legend of a shared, single tooth was horseshit. She has a mouthful of discolored fangs, sharper than any shark’s. “For a small price.”

The Graeae to Deino’s left hoots wordlessly. She takes a clay pipe out of her furs, lights it with a snap of her fingers, and puffs on it, filling the cave with the scents of tar and seaweed.

“My first born?” I ask.

“It is traditional,” Deino says, flashing those fangs.

“Classic for a reason,” says the Graeae in the business suit, who is probably Pemphredo since her voice only dumps adrenaline into my blood but doesn’t make me want to high-tail it back to the portal.

“And if my first born is already spoken for?” I ask, not risking a direct refusal. Arguably, given Jou’s desire that his mortal friends’ children be fostered at Ash Hill, and the fae tradition of fostering children between courts even if I turn down the demon, it’s true that my offspring are spoken for.

Enyo takes the pipe out of her mouth and taps the stem on her teeth. “How many consorts does the Crow Queen have?”

She seems to be directing the question at her sisters rather than me.

Deino’s eye flicks to Rhodes. “One at her side.” She tips her head back and sniffs like a mastiff. “Two others in her blood.”

I control a flinch. I’d prefer the Graeae not think about my blood, or that of my consorts.

“A surplus,” Enyo chortles. “Give us one of your consorts for our collection and we’ll call it even.”

So those statues definitely did not start as stone.

“And if I’m loathe to part with one of my consorts?” I ask.

“Oh, dear, dear, dear,” says Pemphredo. “Do you think refusing us a third time is wise?”

No, I really don’t. “I wouldn’t refuse the Graeae,” I say, placatingly. “Merely trying to understand my options before presenting my offer.”

Pemphredo leans forward, crossing her long legs, bringing her hands together and tapping her five-inch-long stiletto nails, as red as the bottoms of her shoes, against one another with sharp clicks. “What do you offer the Graeae, Crow Queen? Your own flesh and blood? Your power? Twenty years of your long life? How much does the quest for Charybdis mean to you?”

I take the golden athame out of its sheath and lay it on the mosaic with the tip pointing toward them. “I offer you freedom.”

All three sisters hiss through their fangs.

“Let me see,” Pemphredo demands. “What is it she’s brought?”

“A witch’s knife,” Deino says, without relinquishing the eye.

“An athame?” Pemphredo asks.

“Is it gold?” Enyo demands at the same time.

Damn, Luca’s good.

Deino hushes her sisters. “What makes you think we desire freedom, dark sister?”

“You’re bound to this world, aren’t you?” I put together what I’ve observed of them. “Spending your immortality among mortals. Always hiding. Always outliving them. Whether all three of you are out in the world or only Pemphredo is, you’re all bound to this cave, to the guardianship of Charybdis. Aren’t you tired of the parade of wannabe heroes? Haven’t you had enough of this world that’s forgotten you?”

Deino hisses. “They’ve not forgotten us.”

“You are a footnote of history. I’m a professor of magickal archeology and my consort had to research you because your names have been forgotten. You’re reduced to gatekeepers to a monster who hasn’t risen in thousands of years. Is this how you want to spend your immortality?”

“Is it how you want to spend yours?” Enyo snarls. “Teaching those of less talent and less ambition? Is that how you’ll spend your days, Crow Queen?”

I put my arm around Rhodes, who has put his hand over his eyes as extra protection. He immediately shifts to wrap around me, burying his face in my hair, curving his hand around my belly.

“This is how I’ll spend my days,” I respond. “With the three men who support me in whatever I choose. Bearing and raising our children. Teaching our children and my students. That’s a life well-lived, I think. Do you have families? Do you have children? Or are your bonds to this place so tight that you can only move through the mortal world as shadows?”

Their silence tells me everything I need to know.

“Your sisters have passed from the mortal plane,” I say. “The gods who sentenced you here have no more say in this world of steel. Let me cut the ties that hold you here. Be free.”

“You don’t know what you offer, dark sister,” Deino says. “Do you imagine that dread, horror, and alarm will pass peaceably from the world of men?” She narrows her Cyclopean eye at me. “Did you think we’d go quietly?”

“I have no expectation.” I honestly don’t. I hadn’t thought about the manner of their passing. “What do you want?”

Enyo grins hideously, a long, pale tongue lashing out between her fangs. “We wish to rage .”

“We wish to wroth ,” Deino echoes her sister.

“We wish to remind the mortal world what it is to fear ,” Pemphredo snarls. “We are three. Give us each a day to remind the mortals they should only speak our names with awe and fear.”

Three days for ancient sea hags to unleash their powers on the mortal world? Remembering the terrible death toll of the tsunami in 2004, I shake my head. “Too many mortals will die.”

“Unlike you, we’re not death goddesses,” Enyo sneers. “We only demand the lives of those who break their bargains with us.”

“Mortals are frail,” Pemphredo says, clacking her nails together. “We cannot promise none of them will die during our three days, but they will not die by our hands.”

“What do you think?” I whisper to Rhodes.

“I think it’s better than our first-born,” he murmurs. “Three days of sea storms in winter, when there are fewer tourists near the coasts, when boats have been brought up out of the water? It doesn’t seem like a bad bargain.”

“Three days,” I agree, hoping I haven’t just agreed to a catastrophe.