Page 23 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

21

Morgana

M y ancient mattress groaned beneath me, and the unnatural quiet of the deep pressed in. I smiled as my little room swam into view. I knew how to get out of this world, and now, I knew how to get back in.

I was sure it was my father’s drowning that had caused me to wake up here. I didn’t think it would be the same when a full-blooded Selkie transformed. The book on mythical creatures did not mention the Kingdom of the Drowned.

Mobile shadows danced over the games room’s high walls as the anglerfish chandelier swayed with the ocean’s tides. Tables lay smashed around the roulette wheel where fights had broken out. The young boy spinning the wheel looked apprehensive, probably praying that it would favor his most menacing players.

I scanned the room for the face I had seen in the yellowed paper—the face of Rory Balfour, my father. But no one resembled him.

Edward was tucked away, reading at a wooden table pressed against one of the stained walls. I observed him from the fragmented doorway—he was undeniably handsome. His hair, neatly combed to one side beneath his maroon cap, framed his full lips and blue eyes. Sensing my gaze, he glanced up and smiled.

“Where have you been?” he demanded as I slid into the seat across from him.

“I went home for a bit,” I muttered.

“You can do that?” His eyes filled with a yearning that broke my heart.

“Do you know . . .” My throat tightened. “Do you know a Rory Balfour?” I scanned the room again for the face of my father.

“Hmm, no. It doesn’t ring a bell. But I have been here for 111 years, and the Drowned migrate from portal to portal. It is hard to keep track of names.” Edward folded over the page, marking a place in his book. He must have used preservation potion to protect it, because it was unscathed by the ocean’s decay.

“Oh.” The hope building in my chest deflated. “My father drowned. I . . . I thought he might be here somewhere.”

“Your father drowned !” Edward choked on his rum, eyes darting about the room.

“He had red hair. There are no redheads here aside from us. I already checked.” I bit back my disappointment.

I couldn’t help but examine the room again. Teachie, the man with the black mustache from Port Royal, was at the roulette wheel. Next to him was the tattooed Rackham, whose beaded braids were tied up in a bun. Rackham drew a small knife from behind his ear to pick at his rotting teeth—a pirate flex, no doubt.

There were men playing poker at a long table to the right of the roulette wheel, and treasures were exchanged. A pirate handed over a glittering necklace, its pearls glowing faintly, to a naval officer in return for a small neon fish that swam lazily in a glass bowl. None of them had the face I’d seen in the newspaper.

“It’s bollocks how people suck up to them.” I was surprised by the contempt in Edward’s voice. His eyes were narrowed on a modern-day boy wearing ripped jeans and sneakers, who looked like he had more biceps than brains.

“So Donahue and Jackie got themselves some muscle.” I rolled my eyes as the boy got up from their table to the left of the roulette wheel, ran to the bar, and re-emerged with fresh rum bottles. Jackie bared his gums in a sneer of a thank you, but Donahue ignored the kid completely. His shoulder-length dark hair hid his expression.

“He drowned less than twelve hours ago, and he’s already doing their bidding,” Edward spat.

“They look more drowned,” I whispered.

Donahue’s sallow cheeks were sunken, and Jackie’s teeth, which I could have sworn had just been yellow, looked missing. Bits of his scalp showed where his blonde hair had come away.

“We are Drowned!” Edward gestured around the room sarcastically.

“No, I mean more decayed. Can’t you see it?”

“Donahue has been here for centuries,” Edward hissed. “Although we are immortal, in the way we heal and age, the ocean begins to have its way with us eventually.” He picked at a barnacle on his neck.

I was still watching Donahue. Bits of the skin on his cheek were hanging off, but he was letting his dark curls fall over them. He looked up, catching my gaze and grabbing his crotch in a mock gesture.

Edward turned bright red. He was glaring at Donahue, knuckles white from the force with which he was gripping the table.

“So, I think I know what I am now.” I gestured to my furry bodysuit in a bid to distract Edward from the man’s lewd gesture.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually a Selkie!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder as if worried the Drowned girls at the table closest to us might be listening.

“I’m descended from a Selkie, so I only half morph from my human form. Do you know of them?”

“You’re not a relative of Siana Selich by any chance?” Edward glanced over his shoulder again.

“I don’t think so. My family name is Scott.”

“Shhh.” Edward motioned for me to keep my voice down, eyes sharp with fear.

“Who is Siana Selich?” I scrunched up my face. There was nothing about her in the book on Selkies.

“Well, she’s more of a folktale than an actual person—the wife of Manannán, God of the Drowned.” Edward pulled his tatty velvet-backed chair toward the table.

“What?” My mouth popped open.

“Yes, but Morgana, it is rumored that only a descendant of Siana Selich can end the curse.” His eyes flitted around the venue.

“The three-thousand-year-old curse on the Drowned and the Mer?” I raised my brows in incredulity.

“ Yes .” His nostrils flared.

I snorted, and rum came out of my nose. “Surely it’s not me.”

“But that’s the thing. There aren’t any Selkies left! So whatever you do, don’t tell anyone what you are,” Edward gritted out.

“Y-you’re serious, aren’t you? If it’s a folktale, then why are you so worried?” I looked around the rowdy bar, and no one seemed concerned by anything other than gambling and drinking.

“Because even though the Mer and Drowned have suffered under the curse for thousands of years, many still hang on to the hope of the prophecy that can break it.” Edward rubbed the skin on his freckled neck.

“How exactly did this curse come about?” I leaned into his space and let my eyes widen in a way that I hoped flattered his intelligence.

“Well, I am not sure I know the full tale, because I can only rely on translations from the Runes of the Ocean.” Edward straightened his shoulders and looked pleased. “But once upon a time, the ocean clans were united. This was over three thousand years ago, in the Days of Gods. Back then, the five gods of the ocean and its creatures lived harmoniously, as did the humans of the time.” He raised his eyebrows as if anticipating my disbelief, but I waited eagerly for him to continue. “Legend has it that Manannán—who was, at the time, the God of the Drowned—fell in love with a beautiful and powerful Selkie woman called Siana Selich.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “You said there were five Gods?”

“Yes, yes.” He furrowed his brow. “There was a god for each clan: Manannán, known by many names. Naútēs Diábolos, or the modern-day Davy Jones, was the God of the Drowned. Siochain, a Selkie and mother to Siana, was the God of Peace and Wisdom. Poseidon, a merman, was the God of the Seas and Skies, while Cetus, a sea monster, ruled over beasts and sea life. Lastly, Agápē, a Siren, was the God of Love.”

The five images from the insignia! I nodded and bade him continue.

“Now, where was I? Oh yes, Manannán fell in love with the Selkie, Siana, and she loved him back. For a while, they were the perfect match. He collected dead souls, and she could offer them peace using her magic.” Edward sighed. “They say that before Siana, Manannán never offered the Drowned Mourning, but when he fell in love with her, his heart softened, and he allowed us to say goodbye.”

I remembered the love I had seen shining in even the most ferocious-looking pirates’ eyes as we rose to the surface with the glowing balls.

“But she was wild and free, and he was jealous.” Edward’s eyes darkened as he gestured around the rowdy bar. It was as if I could feel Manannán’s resentment permeating the space. The sensation crept across my arms, leaving a field of tiny goosebumps in its wake.

Edward noticed his tale’s effect and continued more enthusiastically, “As Manannán watched a friendship blossom between Siana and Mer Prince Kyano of the House of ā? t lanticus, he grew increasingly angry.”

“ ā? t lanticus, like Atlantis?” My eyes widened.

“Yes, yes, we will get to that.” Edward waved a hand. “Manannán saw how Kyano looked at Siana, and one day, he confronted the merman. A fight broke out, and they each returned to their kingdoms to raise an army. The Sirens joined the Mer, and the sea beasts joined the Drowned. The armies collided in the Battle of Caeruleus Templum—Blue Temple.” He swallowed. “Siana hastened to the battlefield, bellowing for peace. Before she could call upon her magic, she was struck by two arrows, one from the Mer army and one from the Drowned. She died right there on the field. Her blood streamed into the water, but the two armies were so bent on destroying one another that none of them noticed.”

I folded my webbed hands in my lap, eyes wide as I listened. The gaming of the Drowned had faded into the background as Edward’s tale transported me back in time.

“The rest of the gods were angry as many members of all their houses had been unnecessarily lost. They cursed the Mer and the Drowned. Manannán was stripped of his title as the Drowned God, and seven Protectors were installed in his place.” Edward glanced at the Captain, and I followed his gaze.

“He’s a Protector?” I hissed. The red-eyed sea snake in the man’s eye socket popped its head out and curled around to look at me as if it had heard. Its eyes glowed faintly in the underwater gloom, casting a crimson shadow on the Captain’s weathered cheek.

Edward nodded.

“But what happened to Manannán?”

He fell quiet, as if considering this. “Well, he couldn’t die, as all our souls feed his spirit.” He gestured across the room. “Instead, he was destined to walk in shadows for an eternity, never to return to his godly form.”

I could have sworn the anglerfish illuminating the room flickered.

“And then, of course, there is the Garden of Mortimer.” Edward shuddered.

“The place where evil Drowned souls are kept?” My question came out in a whisper.

He took a long swig of his rum. “Yes. Legend says the gods created it to help the Protectors control the Drowned. Nothing like concern about a place in the Garden to ensure the most vicious of us obey the Protectors.”

I glanced at the Captain again. He was sharing a rum with Evelyn, and his remaining amber eye was fixed on her. “So, can he send you to the Garden?”

“Yes. But I have only seen him do it once, when he found a pirate raping a teenage girl.” Edward’s face hardened at the memory.

My throat worked as I glanced at the menacing pirates at the roulette wheel. Teachie’s pile of treasure had shrunk, and he was glaring at the boy spinning the wheel as if he were to blame.

“What does the prophecy say? How is this descendant of Siana supposed to end the curse?” I leaned forward on the slimy table, eyeing Edward curiously.

“That’s just it. Only the first half of the prophecy is known.” His eyes glazed over as he recited: “Evil begets evil. Sin begets sin. All love will be lost, and you’ll know no peace. In shadowed depths where silence reigns, a curse was cast, eternal chains. The spirits of Manannán and Siana must return, for only then shall the clans truly learn.”

I ran my hands over my arms, but the goosebumps refused to fade.

“The second half of the prophecy detailed how the curse could be broken, but it was lost in the fall of ā? t lanticus,” Edward whispered, his eyes darting around the faces in the room. “Both the Mer and the Drowned believe whichever clan finds a way to enact the prophecy will reign supreme. Of course, this just fuels the fire.”

“Come on. The spirit of Siana Selich. Really?” I raised my brows at him.

“As I said, it’s the stuff of myths and legends.” Edward rubbed his chin. “But I wouldn’t tell this lot you’re a Selkie.” He jerked his head at the Drowned. “It is whispered that before the curse, the Drowned lived in castles like the Mer. Some still sit around fantasizing about what life could be like if they caught a Selkie related to Siana and ended the curse . . . But they would be looking for a seal, of course.”

A fight broke out over the roulette wheel, and Teachie threw a man in a naval uniform across the room. He skidded across the floor, then picked himself up, muttering as he straightened his clothes and returned to the game.

“What about the Mer? You mentioned they were also cursed.” I swallowed.

“As arrows from both armies caused Siana’s fatal blow. The gods stripped the Mer of most of their powers—it is said the magic they have now is but a husk of what it was in the Days of Gods.”

What would a “husk” of the Atlantic’s power produce?