Page 47 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

45

Morgana

T hunder cracked with a force that rattled the house. I sat upright in bed as Finn burst through my door, still in my granddad’s robe, hair tousled from sleep.

“The Ferris wheel!” I cried.

“I need to try and stop it. There’s no time to go to my father.” Finn had a dark look in his jet-black eyes.

Rage exploded within me, and I tossed my blanket aside.

“What are the chances you would stay here if I asked you to?” Finn raised a brow.

I replied with a laugh, pulling on boyfriend jeans over my pajama pants and grabbing a jacket.

As we raced down the hill, the storm roared into the bay. Rain pelted the whitewashed stone houses on my grandparents’ street, and swollen, dark waves towered four feet or more in height before unleashing their fury across my jetty.

I whipped my head toward the Ferris wheel, dread knotting my gut. It loomed like a skeletal giant, its carriage-less circle spinning against the dark sky. I could feel something in the air—magic, perhaps—crackling with electricity. This storm was different from the others.

We skidded to a halt in the middle of Bayside shopping center, hair plastered to our faces from the rain. The wheel loomed ahead, its bone-like frame creaking under the weight of the gale.

Finn pulled me behind the outdoor furniture of Aranare’s uncle’s closed diner. We crouched behind the blue retro chairs, our breaths coming in sharp bursts as the droplets lashed our faces.

“They know we’re onto them, so they’re risking a larger storm,” Finn yelled.

“What does that mean?” My heart pounded as I peered through the misty veil at the wheel. It wasn’t just spinning—it was alive. A glow emanated from its center, illuminating the rain with an unnatural light.

“I don’t know, but it can’t be good . . .”

Panic began clawing at my core. I swallowed, thinking about the rising swell we had seen on our way up. Would they raise the waves to engulf the town and take Granddad, Skye, and Aranare? No. We had to do something.

“Looks like Manannán’s powers have returned. I think Taranis is using his blood this time.” Finn’s brows were drawn as he squinted through the rain at the wheel.

A cold emptiness spread through my gut. “He’s a coward hiding behind shadows and letting the Drowned do his dirty work,” I said through gritted teeth.

“They’ve fortified it too.” Finn pointed to the wheel’s base, where two hooded figures were standing motionless—the Drowned. “I shouldn’t have brought you. It’s too dangerous.” He shook his head.

“But that wheel—it’s not turning because of them. Something’s powering it from the center.” I tore my gaze from the figures to look at Finn.

“Mer blood at its apex.” His jaw tightened as he watched it spin. “It’s amplifying Taranis’s magic. This storm is going to be lethal.”

I shivered but clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. “Then we need to go for the source.”

A lightning bolt struck the sea just beyond the wheel, illuminating its frame. The glow at its core pulsed brighter, almost like a heartbeat.

“We’ll have to split up,” I yelled over the rain. “You distract the Drowned at the base. I’ll find a way to the center and stop it.”

“No! It’s too dangerous.” Finn’s grip tightened around my wrist, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

“It’s the only way,” I said, letting my gaze lock with his. “If you do your job right, I’ll be fine . . . or don’t you think you can handle them?” I arched a brow, challenging him.

Finn chuckled. “Let’s see what you’ve got, shifter.” He trailed his cold hand from my wrist to interlock his fingers with mine. Then he crept into the darkness, leaving me alone. I stood in the lashing rain, feeling suddenly foolish.

I crept across the grassy area. The wheel loomed above me like a titan, its rusted beams slick with rain and sea spray. I had no idea how to stop its powerful apex, but I had to try. A cry rang out from its other side, and magic flared. Now was my chance.

As I reached for the first rung, the smell of rotting fish filled my nostrils. A prickle spread across my neck, and I spun around. There were three dark figures behind me. Men— Drowned men.

My heart clamored as I looked between them. It was Bron and two others I did not recognize. Their eyes were sunken, and their skin hung off their bones in places, but they had covered their deterioration with black cloaks. Silver lined their faces—Mer blood.

The largest of the three cocked his head at me, and his hood slipped from his face. His long, dark hair dripped over his shoulders like rain-soaked vines, and his pale, hollow eyes locked on to mine.

Adrenaline speared through me, and I leaped for the first rung of the wheel, but cold fingers wrapped around my ankle, sharp nails dug into my skin as the long-haired leader yanked me down. My jacket bunched, and my pink pajama top slid up as he pulled me across the wet grass.

No , I thought. No, this is not how I will die! I’d escaped the Drowned before, and Taranis in the flesh twice. His cronies would not kill me. My voice returned, and I screamed, a blood-curdling wail that would have matched the Mourning Drowned.

The Drowned corpse had me in both his hands now. I thrashed, kicking at him, but he held me tight. He let his hands wander as he pressed my soaked, trembling body against his. His right hand found my breast beneath the thin cotton of my top and then moved lower. No!

“Careful,” Bron croaked from beneath his hood. “He will punish you if you touch her.”

The Drowned leader who was holding me just laughed, and the scent of rotting flesh burned my nostrils as his body heaved against me. He turned from the wheel, clutching me against him like a prize.

No, no, no! I screamed and thrashed again. I had to harness whatever powers I was supposed to have, but how could I when my mind was scattered by fear? The arms that held me stiffened.

Finn was standing before us, eyes flashing. His dark hair was plastered to his face, and he was still in my granddad’s old nightgown, wet and rippling in the wind.

“Put her down,” he growled, and a surge of something traveled through him.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the little princeling. Two birds with one stone.” The Drowned man let out an awful laugh, and his decaying body heaved against me again. He slid his right hand back up toward my breast while his other arm kept me firmly pressed against his skeletal frame.

Finn’s dark eyes simmered with lightning, and he slung his arm, palm facing upward, at us. I fell to the wet ground as the Drowned leader was flung against the base of the wheel with the force of a cold gust, like wind blowing across the waves.

His eyes widened with shock as he hit the wheel’s support tower. His neck cracked in a way that said it was broken, but he snapped it back and pulled himself from the ground, a wicked smile stretching his lips.

Bron and the other Drowned man were advancing on Finn now, their cloaks flapping in the roaring wind. Finn stood his ground and stared them down, his eyes glinting obsidian.

Bron’s meaty fist connected with Finn’s face, sending his head flying back. I gasped, but Finn quickly steadied himself. A split lip left blood trickling down his chin, but he wiped it away with the back of his hand, grinning in a way that was positively wicked.

The other Drowned man landed a blow, and Finn took it with another smirk, as though enjoying the pain.

“Look out!” I yelled as Bron drew a sword from inside his cloak. Neither Finn nor I had any weapons. We really hadn’t thought this through. Bron’s small, watery eyes flickered with delight when he realized it too.

My mouth fell open as Finn looked between the two men, and storm clouds raced across his dark eyes. The power of the Atlantic . . .

The men continued to advance, and Finn smiled almost lazily, flicking his eyes between them. Bron looked at his comrade, shock plastered across his face, as the Drowned man started writhing.

An invisible force tore through him, his tattered clothes whipping around his decayed frame. His pale eyes bulged as if trying to escape their sockets; his mouth opened in a soundless scream.

I swallowed. Finn was . . . drowning him internally.

Silver streaks glimmered in the man’s veins, pulsing frantically beneath the paper-thin skin stretched over his bones, resisting the force consuming him. Finn upturned his wrist and let the force of wind join the water. He looked like a wizard from a picture book in the long nightgown. I might have found it funny if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

The Drowned man began to shriek and shrivel in the same way Jackie had. Soon, he was floating above us, his body being claimed by the Garden. Light illuminated our faces as he became one of the beautiful orbs, but I didn’t look up.

Finn’s wind and water hadn’t fazed Bron, who simply shook it off with a cackle. Finn unleashed another torrent, but the man kept advancing. Meanwhile, the leader had risen from where he’d been slammed against the wheel’s base and was now closing in on Finn from his other side.

Finn shot more wind at them, but this time, they were prepared and held their ground.

“They can fight my magic because they’re drawing strength from the Mer blood in the wheel’s core!” Finn roared as the two men approached.

I was sitting on the wet grass where I had been dropped, gaping at the scene and doing nothing. I needed to harness my powers, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.

I’d have to do things the old-fashioned way.

I grabbed a crumpled can from the grass beside me and tossed it at Bron. It clattered against his bulky shoulder, then fell to the ground. He didn’t even notice it, but Finn looked at me and snorted.

“Really?” He raised his brows.

I rolled my eyes and then my shoulders.

Finn was using a sword formed from water particles to parry both Drowned men now, but they were two against one, and the Mer blood propelled them. I had to do something—anything.

Please , I beseeched the power within me. I was on my knees in the wet grass, the rain streaming down my face as I turned my eyes to the sky.

I looked inward, frantically scanning my mind, hoping to access what I knew was stored in my subconscious. Then I saw it—a glowing silver ball flickering just out of my grasp. It was the same light I had seen inside me in the dungeons, but how could I access it?

Finn gave a low growl as the leader’s blade found his shoulder.

“Finn,” I cried through a mist of tears as silver-tinged scarlet blood spilled from his wound.

A cold hollow expanded in my chest; the Drowned were fighting Finn’s magic, and now he was injured.

I didn’t know how to get past that wall within me that said this was impossible—that magic wasn’t real, and there was no way I could have powers.

Power comes from here. I remembered Louisa tapping her heart.

Finn let out another grunt, grasping at his shoulder, where blood stained my granddad’s robe.

I exhaled, letting my internal walls crumble. I let myself feel everything—the wonder that this new world existed and that I was a part of it, that after feeling like an outsider my whole life, I had a place here. I let these thoughts course through me and swell my heart. That love and utter belief merged into a mental space where anything was possible, where any power could be drawn. It was the sphere of birth and death, the before and after, the always—the timeless and all-connected plane.

There was the flickering silver, within easy grasp.

Exhaling a long breath, I let it fill me until it simmered through every inch of my body, as though my heart had pumped it into my veins. Finn’s eyes widened when he looked at me, confirming that the power I felt inside was also burning in my eyes.

I had no idea how to wield it, but I turned my flaming eyes on the Drowned and gave them a death wish as I extended my palm in their direction like Finn had done. The group before me froze in time.

Bron’s steel was locked in battle with Finn’s water sword. At the same time, the Drowned leader aimed his blade at Finn’s gut as Finn stared at me in shock and awe. When this frozen scene came back to life, Finn would be stabbed—a death blow. A wicked smile curved the corners of the leader’s silver-stained mouth as if he knew it.

Power comes from the heart.

“No!” I cried. I slung my wrists at the frozen scene and twisted, letting whatever ancient power was writhing inside me hit its mark.

Finn and the Drowned came back to life momentarily, but as the two men moved into Finn, their bodies disintegrated into the rain in a cloud of silver dust. With a sweep of my fist, the ocean breeze claimed it.

What the fuck?

I slumped on the grass beside Finn. Whatever I had just done had exhausted me.

He brushed his wet hair from his forehead. “I haven’t seen power like that in . . . Well, I’ve never seen power like that.” He shook his head.

I looked at my hands, which had been wielding something a moment ago. They seemed so normal now—just plain, wet, grass-stained, trembling human hands.

Lightning skittered over the wheel above us, a reminder that this was not over yet.

Finn held out his hand, pulling me up. “You’ve got this. Just throw another can at it . . .”

With that he grabbed the blade, still coated with his blood, from where it was lying on the ground and jogged into the darkness. His magic flared. He was again distracting the Drowned guarding the wheel’s base.

This was my shot.

My hands trembled as I grabbed the first rung, and my fingers slipped before I found a firmer hold. I pulled myself up, wrapping my legs around, clinging to it like a sloth in the rain.

I was now inside one of the many skeletal prongs, and the wheel was turning. I crawled upward toward the apex.

Don’t look down. Just don’t look down .

I looked down.

Below, the storm raged. The roar of the wind and waves mingled with the clash of steel as Finn fought the other Drowned guards.

“Morgana, go!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. I glanced down to see him dodge a spear thrust. The Drowned guards seemed to be advancing relentlessly; their weapons glowed faintly with corrupted magic.

Taking a deep breath, I turned my attention to the climb. The wheel groaned underneath me, its creaks amplified by the storm. Each step up felt like a battle against gravity and the unyielding pull of the wind. Rain lashed my face, and my soaked clothes clung to my skin, making every movement heavier.

Lightning flashed, casting the cliff in a blinding glow. Another shout from below drew my gaze downward again. Finn drove his blade through one of the Drowned, pinning him against the wheel’s base, but another closed in.

“Keep climbing!” he yelled as if he sensed my gaze, pulling his sword free and narrowly dodging another attack.

My heart raced as I forced myself upward. I’d never make it. This was crazy—

My hands slipped on the wet metal, panic shooting through me when my foot missed a rung. I clung to the wheel, gasping, as it continued to turn. The structure groaned as if alive.

As I climbed higher, the storm intensified, wind howling through the spokes. I could feel the pulse of magic, a tangible force pressing against my chest. The glow from the wheel’s core grew brighter, casting eerie shadows across the rusted beams.

Just keep going . . .

Before I was ready, the apex was before me, a swirling vortex of light and energy. I hesitated, my breath hitching as the sheer intensity of the magic washed over me. I let out a slow exhale and crawled the final runs toward the core.

Sparks of raw energy arced outward, searing the metal around me. My powers stirred in response, an ancient, untapped force rising within me—Siana’s power. She was from a time long ago, the same time as Manannán. Perhaps her power could match his. But I had no idea what to do . . .

Below, Finn’s battle raged on. He grunted in pain as one of the Drowned landed a blow.

Clinging to the beams, I looked down at the cliff face and ocean stretching before me. My blood went cold—a massive wall of water was rising from the sea. Lightning illuminated its size as the bay stretched below, helpless and exposed.

I had to act now.

Without thinking, I placed both hands on the wheel’s apex. I was met with white oblivion. My arms trembled with whatever power was snaking through them, but I held firm. I had to do this. It felt like this storm was my fault somehow, like if I had never been sent away and fulfilled my destiny, none of this would have happened. If I didn’t break whatever was at this wheel’s core, everyone in Ruadán’s Port might die.

Heat traveled through me in waves as I propelled whatever power had awakened within me into the metal. I let the anger I felt at my grandmother for keeping this from me and the guilt I bore for her death course through me to the apex. The kids in high school calling me Mad Morgana, and my “condition” causing me to believe that there was something wrong with me—it had all been for this. The Drowned pirates pawing at me in places I did not permit them to touch . . . Anger rippled through me. It had all been for this .

Then, the world cracked.

The wind stopped howling, the sky cleared, and stars twinkled above me. Everything was still as the wheel broke.

I was falling through the crisp night sky as pieces of white metal cascaded to the ground around me. One of them smashed against the ground below. I would hit the rocks and crumple just like it, but at least I’d stopped the storms. Perhaps this was it—this was what I’d been supposed to do as the “chosen one”—to end the curse or whatever. I tried to reach for my power and stop my fall, but I could no longer see it. I was exhausted—so exhausted.

Whatever I had just done had sucked the life out of me. Another beam crashed into splinters below, and the earth was coming closer.

I collided with something, but it wasn’t the ground. It was Finn. He held me gently in his arms as the world faded into darkness.