Page 31 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

29

Morgana

A hush settled over the tavern as I pushed open the swinging doors.

Where were the brawling pirates? Where were the giggling girls? Even the piano stood silent. The naval officer who had previously been caressing its keys was staring at me. They were all staring at me. No, not staring— scowling .

“There’s the mermaid lover!” hissed Teachie, his scars illuminated in the anglerfish light, and the rest of his table sniggered.

A clomping alerted me to the Captain’s return to my side. “Drink this.” He thrust a rum bottle into my hands. Another snigger sliced through the room, but a glance from the Captain quieted them. The silence was worse.

I lifted the bottle to my lips, and as the warm liquid entered my body, I felt my strength return.

“Don’t mind them.” The Captain motioned to the gaping Drowned. “It’s been hundreds of years since a merman came this close to the tavern. They’re in shock.” He chuckled, and his little sea snake grinned gleefully in unison.

I began to make my way warily forward, sighing in relief when I saw Edward sitting at our usual table adjacent to the big wooden doors.

“Why don’t you return to where you came from?” a man spat. He had beady rat eyes and straw-like hair. “You are no longer welcome here . ”

Another hiss followed. “Mer-loving seal slut—your time is coming!” It was Jackie. He was hunched over next to Donahue and the new muscly Drowned boy.

Seal slut . They’d called me that before. He knew what I was. They knew what I was. Did that mean I was in danger? I searched for Donahue’s scornful gaze, but his eyes weren’t on me—they were fixed over his shoulder, on Edward.

I kept moving, ignoring the slurs—one step, then another. The glow from the anglerfish jars on the tables created eerie patterns that danced across the faces of the scowling patrons.

Only when I slid onto the wooden stool across from Edward did the whispers morph into conversations again. The Captain was handing out bottles of rum in my wake. A haunting tune swept through the bar as a woman with long dark hair and sad eyes took the naval officer’s place at the grand piano.

Edward wasn’t looking at me. It was as if he was trying to pretend I wasn’t there.

I grabbed a chessboard from one of the overflowing chests that lined the stained wall and started setting up the pieces. We began to play, but twenty minutes into the game, his mood had worsened.

“Would you focus, or else you’ll never be able to beat me!” Edward banged his fist on the table, sending the pieces bouncing.

“What is your problem? I thought chess would cheer you up.”

“Cheer me up? And why , pray tell, would I need such a thing?” His pale blue eyes had become slits.

“I—well, I just thought you were feeling a little depressed.” I immediately regretted my words as I watched his face darken.

“I don’t need your pity!” His lips became a single inky line. “You just had to befriend them, didn’t you? You may as well take up residence in the castle with your Mer friends and slander me as you swim past.” He folded his arms across the big red gash in his maroon uniform, and his little red hat toppled off.

“You’re acting just like the rest of the Drowned!” I gestured across the bar as anger ignited my senses.

Heat stained Edward’s cheeks. “I am like the rest of them. I am Drowned scum with no powers and no means to walk upon the land!” He was shaking now, his nostrils flaring with each breath. “I told you what they did to me. I told you they left me for dead.”

“I didn’t ask the merman to rescue me!” A lump was forming in my throat.

Edward bowed his head, as if embarrassed to be associated with me. I took a long swig of my rum, banging the bottle back onto the table as loudly as possible. He didn’t look up.

“Seriously, screw this.” I kicked my stool aside as the lump in my throat expanded.

“Go.” Edward’s voice had softened, but he kept his eyes fixed on the slimy table. “I don’t see why the devil you want to hang out with the Mer in the first place,” he yelled after me, but I ignored him. “Oh, and checkmate!” I heard him finish angrily as I pushed the large wooden doors open, rage and hurt eddying inside me.

I descended the decayed steps to the lower decks, my legs unsteady. Perhaps some of the red-eyed merman’s magic was still clinging to me. Red eyes, a dead mergirl, and a knifed fishtail—were these just coincidences, or was there a connection between the events? A connection to me? I knew those red eyes. They had haunted my dreams since I was a child, and he had called me Siana . . .

I passed through the room that had once been a swimming pool and was now a botanical garden for the Drowned. Somehow, I found myself back in the murky hallway, ascending the stairs to the room with the crashed chandelier where we had first found the Mer blood graffiti. The fur-covered skin on my forearms pebbled at the memory of the shimmering writing. I ran my hands over the dark, mottled surface where the words had been, searching for any trace as to their origin. But there was nothing—only darkness.

What was I doing, acting like I was Sherlock Holmes and could solve the Mer murders . . . I shook my head. The sadness in the mermaid’s eyes when her body drifted from my arms had planted something within me—a desperate need to act.

I left the dark room behind, making my way up another set of partially decayed stairs. After a few steps, my foot slipped through one of the planks. They should put their preservation potion to good use and fix this boat. I continued forward, but soon fell through another stair. Lazy, selfish, Drowned!

The room the stairs led to had probably once been a men’s cigar room or perhaps a first-class cabin. A fireplace ornamented the back wall, but it was orange with rust.

Suddenly, I longed for heat, the feeling of the sun on my face, or the warmth of a hearth. It was so cold down here, like the eyes of the Drowned had been. The remains of a few armchairs were scattered about the room. I made myself comfortable in one, thankful I didn’t fall through it.

Someone was killing Mer and sending hate messages. But who would do this, and why?

They want to start a war.

The words swam into my head as I thought about the endless wars waged on land, fueled by nothing but ancient grudges or greed. But why would the Drowned want to pick a fight with such fearsome creatures? Surely they would lose. Human wars were primarily economic, religious, or political. Perhaps the Drowned wanted to rule the ocean—

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

I stiffened. I had been so lost in thought I hadn’t noticed dark figures encircling me.

Pirates. I gulped. They must have followed me from the bar.

My mind darted to the dagger at my waist. My fingers twitched, ready to grab it.

The speaker shuffled into the light—it was Teachie. The tattoos on his chest were visible through his waistcoat, and his long dark hair with its gray streaks was tied back in a ponytail.

“The Mer sank our home, and we don’t take kindly to their allies.” His awful smile grew.

Port Royal. The Wild West of the Ocean. Swallowing a gulp, I met Teachie’s stare.

“There was never a city so perfect. The gambling was wicked, the whores were dirty, and the treasure . . . oh, the treasure.” He sighed, and his eyes filled with something that looked like sadness. Then they narrowed. “The Mer didn’t like that we had more wealth than they did—so they sank us, they did.” He leaned over me, and his breath was foul with rum.

I recognized his accomplice, Rackham. There were only two of them. Only two. This emboldened me. The dagger hummed at my side, like it was calling to me with its ancient magic. I reached for the hilt.

“We don’t get many girls down here with warm twats,” Teachie cackled, and Rackham joined in his slobbery mirth.

“Back the fuck off,” I cried, whipping the blade from its sheath and holding it in front of me. It gleamed in the emerald light. I prayed they believed I knew how to use it. I prayed they couldn’t see it had been half eaten by rust.

“Rackham,” Teachie barked at his sniggering companion.

Rackham began advancing on my right. I twisted in the chair to face him, the blade shining between us.

White lights danced behind my eyes, and I tasted metal—blood—from the inside of my cheek. Teachie had struck me with his ring-covered hand while my attention was fixed on Rackham.

I whirled to face Teachie, waving my knife angrily as pain rippled through me. The lump had returned to my throat. I will not cry.

White lights flashed again, and I was blinded by pain.

Cowards!

Teachie grabbed my limp knife arm and twisted it behind my back. “You’re only making this harder on yourself,” he growled.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” My voice broke with the pain shooting up my wrist.

Teachie cackled, his body heaving against mine, and he used his free hand to pull my head back with my hair.

Rackham approached me. He was skinny, and if possible, he was missing even more teeth than last time I saw him. He pressed his groin against my cheek, and its hardness hurt my bruised face—this was arousing him. I swung my left arm wildly, connecting with Rackham’s side, but he only laughed.

This was not how I would lose my virginity. I tried to tug my knife arm free, but Teachie held it tight.

“And I thought I’d never be with a living woman again.” Rackham laughed, stepping back from me. “Although I wouldn’t call you a real woman—”

Terror knotted my stomach as he began untying the tattered red sash at his waist and pulling his shirt out from his trousers.

“Please,” I tried to beseech Teachie, who seemed to be the leader. He let go of my hair and answered me with another smack across the cheek.

Lights flickered in my eyes again, and when my vision returned, blood from my lip was spilling into the water.

I lashed out at Teachie, but he wrenched both my arms behind my back.

“Shut up, mermaid lover. No pretty boys here to save you now,” Rackham growled as he unbuttoned his baggy black pants.

“I’ll take this.” Teachie plucked the dagger from my hand and tossed it into the darkness. “I might as well take the scabbard too.”

Rackham approached, his pants now gaping, and held me against the chair as Teachie sauntered around to stand before me. I threw my shoulders into Rackham’s grip, but it was too firm. Too strong.

Teachie folded his tattooed arms across his chest, eyes gleaming as they traveled to the scabbard at my waist. They flitted back and forth, searching the fur between my legs for what I knew was still there. The pirate let out a low growl as he leaned over me, and nausea churned in my stomach as his meaty hands found the curves of my ass, pulling my body toward him.

Foul breath laced with rum washed over me in a scattering of bubbles as he undid the buckle, his breathing growing increasingly ragged against my ear as he slid the belt off me. The sheath whipped from my body and landed somewhere on the floor with a thump.

Rackham was still holding me from behind as Teachie pulled away from my body so we were eye to eye. His scar wound its way from the bottom of his chin across the side of his mouth and around the back of his cheek. My heart was hammering. I was powerless, completely powerless.

This is it —

My stomach twisted from the nausea.

No, this is not it. This is not how I will lose my virginity.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you,” Teachie said as his mouth morphed into a malicious grin. “We’re just going to have some fun so you can run along and tell your mermaid friends.”

Teachie ran a scarred, tattooed hand along my leg. I kicked upward. My webbed foot found matter, and he yelped in pain. I writhed, trying to take this opportunity to escape, but Rackham still held me against the chair.

“I wouldn’t have done that if I were you.” Teachie surveyed my body, anger and lust flickering in his yellow eyes. “Why don’t we see what we have here?” the pirate rasped as he gripped my knees and tried to pull my legs apart. I fought him—with every inch of my being, I fought him. But he was slowly prying them open . . .

This is not how I will lose my virginity.

I steadied my breathing and leaned further back into Rackham, grimacing as his thick fingers dug into my collarbone. The chair groaned beneath me, its decayed fabric exposing rough metal that dug into my spine.

Teachie’s malicious grin slackened when he saw what lay between my legs, and panic surged through me, but I harnessed it, channeling it into my limbs. I went still for a moment—deceivingly inviting in a way that made my stomach twist—then flung my weight back with a sharp gasp, slamming into the backrest.

Rackham adjusted instinctively, leaning in to tighten his grip. A devious grin spread across my lips because that was exactly what I wanted. I whipped forward with all my strength and then came slamming back, smashing my skull into his chin. His grip faltered, and I surged upward, twisting free as the chair toppled and splintered against the floor, sending Teachie sprawling to all fours.

“You little wench,” Rackham growled, wiping blood from his split lip.

I was already moving, webs slicing through the water as I dove through the doorway and swam down the dark stairs. My throat burned from holding back tears, and my whole body trembled as I dived through a gash in the boat’s hull and into the murky waters beyond.