Page 59 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)
Chapter 58
MARLIN
I’ve never liked this dock.
The waves shift the boards beneath my feet, the night sky turning the ocean into a bottomless pit of ink. A cold breeze nips at my skin, stinging my eyes as I stare at the horizon that hasn’t changed since my father sailed away.
If only we could all be so lucky.
“I considered leaving you there.”
The ancient dock groans as another body gets added to the count.
“As punishment for choosing your father, I considered leaving you there to drown.”
My mother joins me at the edge of the dock, her expensive cocktail dress not holding up well against the bitter wind .
When I don’t respond, she sighs, “But then I thought what a waste. What a waste to lose such an intelligent mind that had so much potential.”
I stare out at the rolling waves, thinking about the suitcase that was lost. The ship I had built that is nothing more than another shipwreck lost at sea.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Ursela purses her lips as if my near-death experience was a terrible inconvenience, “Your lips were so blue and your little face was all bloated. It was a ghastly sight, but you started coughing the moment I pulled you out the water.”
“Do you remember what you said to me?” She starts laughing, casting the horrible sound across the water, “You said you were a fool. For thinking your father loved you enough to turn around and come back for you. And I said-
“At least a clownfish would have made it to the boat.”
She chuckles, wiping tears from her eyes, “And the great Marlin Seaborn was born.”
I smile, turning from the fear I conquered to the woman who was not as terrible as everyone believed her to be.
“We all need an origin story, don’t we mother?”
“Indeed, we do.” She grins, a hint of pride shining through terrible fake eyelashes, “And like I always said, it’s better to look the fool than play the fool.”
“Words I took to heart.” Holding out my arm, I offer it to her with a smile, “Shall we teach the rest of these fools how it’s done? ”
“I suppose someone has to.”
She takes my arm and I lead us back to the shore where a Rolls Royce awaits. The blonde chauffeur immediately hops out of the car and opens the back door, his hand trembling when my mother flashes him a vicious smile.
“Deliver us safely to the Drache Manor and perhaps your legs will still be attached to your body by the end of the night. Do I make myself clear?”
The driver pales, “Y-Yes, ma’am.”
“Very good.” Patting her hair one last time, the Sea Witch slides into the backseat.
I chuckle, offering the man a comforting smile, “Her eels have been terribly hungry lately. Has a tendency to put her in a bit of a mood.”
The fear in his eyes helps to set the tone for the evening.
I slide into the backseat and accept the glass of champagne my mother offers me.
“A toast, to my brilliant son.” She clinks her glass against mine, “For taking after his mother.”
“I believe you just toasted yourself.” Taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, I raise a brow, “Would you like to try again?”
“Oh, hush. You know it was my name on the invitation tonight, not yours.” Settling into her seat, she casts a glance over my attire, “The Sea Witch and her son. Doesn’t sound toast-worthy, now does it?”
I smile, “One day I will no longer stand in your shadow. ”
“And on that day, the Seaborn family will rule Wolf Hollow.” She sighs heavily, “Though I suppose I cannot complain. The Dragon has given us quite the life.”
“Countless interrogations to conduct. I would have thought you enjoyed working for her.”
Casting a glance out the window, I watch the shoreline disappear from view. Rows of torches illuminate the road winding through dense trees, the thick branches slapping and sliding against the car windows.
The Drache Manor rises like a dagger in the distance, tall and sharp and built to withstand any form of intrusion. Guard towers are stationed along the property, an endless count of ex-cons serving as minions for the Dragon’s bidding.
“It was not my choice to work for the woman, although I suppose she has earned my loyalty.” A loud sniff draws my attention back inside the car, “A man’s soul for a lifetime of service. She drove a hard bargain, but given my state of near-imprisonment, I couldn’t well say no, now could I?”
“Attempted manslaughter is a hefty charge, mother.”
“Perhaps.” A smile streaks across her face, “Although it was worth it to hear your father’s screams. He thought he had gotten away until I made that deal. There was nowhere he could run that the Dragon wouldn’t find him.”
The car slows as we join the long line of patrons waiting to be dropped off at the entrance. All the mansions within the gated community are within walking distance, but no one would dare make the trek on foot .
Not when there's an opportunity for one's wealth and privilege to be on display.
“In that case, I hope you kept his tongue.” I glance at the gold pendant nestled between her breasts, “As a souvenir of your triumph.”
Ursela laughs, reaching up to stroke the seashell lovingly, “Oh, my dear boy. I kept a much more crucial part of your father.”
I stare at her, wondering if she kept the part of his anatomy I would rather know nothing about.
Her smile widens, “I cut out a piece of his heart.”
It is an answer I have pondered for many years and it did not disappoint.
“A heart for a heart.” A chuckle escapes me, “You are a conniving woman, mother.”
“That, I am.”
The car slows to a stop and the driver promptly clears his throat.
“We have arrived.”
Long, glistening steps make up the front entrance of the Drache Manor. Rising four-stories off the ground, the immaculate structure is built on the side of a mountain, using its leverage to tower over every other building in its vicinity.
My shoes click along black onyx as I lead my mother up the steps. Each one is stamped with a snarling dragon, the vicious creature breathing fire as you walk along .
The tinted windows that frame the monstrous building soar high into the sky, their dark colour offering a warped image of what to expect inside.
“Would it kill her to add a little bit of colour?” Letting out a huff, Ursela eyes the black diamond statues guarding the door, “Might help brighten the place up.”
“That would ruin the aesthetic, mother.” Patting her hand, I lead her through the door, “The Dragon’s lair is no place for colour.”
The great hall unravels before us in a kaleidoscope of sparkling jewelry and overpriced gowns. Champagne and hors d’oeuvres are being passed around while the villains of Wolf Hollow mingle and laugh with barely masked disdain.
We are all foes here. Foes who are forced to tolerate one another under the watchful eye of the Dragon.
“Did I tell you my strapping boy beat his personal record yesterday?” The booming voice drifts through the crowd, “He will be the next bodyweight champion, just you wait and see.”
Gaston Cartier slaps the back of a spindly man standing beside him. The man splutters, spewing out champagne and drawing snickers from nearby spectators.
“That man needs to learn social etiquette.” Muttering under her breath, Ursela steals a snack from a passing waiter, “Always talking about hunting or that son of his. It’s downright nauseating.”
“It is rare to find a proud parent in this town.” Musing the thought out loud, I watch the patriarch check his teeth in a nearby reflection, “Tragic such an admirable quality was wasted on so few brain cells.”
My mother snorts, “Madame Cartier is no better. Not a lick of common sense between the two of them.”
The woman in question is standing off to the side, making herself useful by collecting an array of snacks for her husband and son. She is easily the most beautiful woman in the room, her flawless dark skin perfectly accented by the crimson colour of her gown.
It has been nearly two decades since Gaston’s little wife won the title of Miss Nigeria, but no amount of time could diminish such natural beauty.
“Ursela Seaborn.”
The deep, accented voice draws our attention to the richest man in the room. His servant steps forward and offers us a bow, his simple cream-coloured uniform embedded with the Malik family crest.
“Jaafar.” My mother bows her head in acknowledgement, “I see the invitation made its way overseas.”
Jaafar Malik smiles, showing off a set of veneers that cost just as much as his attire. Rich silk hangs over the man’s tall and wiry frame, the cream-coloured material woven with gold-infused thread that presses perfectly against his body.
The multi-billionaire oil tycoon is an old man, but thanks to the wonders of plastic surgery, he hides his age well. His goatee and thick head of hair remain dyed to perfection while the decreased mobility of his joints is hidden by servants who tend to his every whim.
“Given my investments in the town, it would seem my presence was deemed necessary for tonight’s festivities.” He lifts a brow, casting a glance in my direction, “Although I hear someone has been making some poor investments lately.”
My lips curl into a smile, “I am pleased to report the Canadian oil fields are doing exceedingly well. Perhaps you should consider investing in your competition.”
“Do not let your youth fool you into thinking a surge in the market means a return is on its way. Rash decisions are a loss waiting to happen.”
“New opportunities are, at the very least, worth considering.” I tilt my head thoughtfully, “Unless your age fools you into thinking otherwise.”
A snicker echoes behind the long line of servants.
“You must think twice before undermining Marlin Seaborn. He presents a much bigger challenge than you think.”
Gold bangles clink together as Tahira steps up beside her father. Dressed in silk made from the finest tailors, her dress slinks around her body like a flame. Red in both colour and spirit, the sleek material falls off one shoulder while the lace wrapped around her waist offers a teasing glimpse of the ruby glistening at her belly button.
She looks every bit the tycoon’s heiress, and I must admit, she wears the part well .
“Yes. I am starting to see that.” Jaafar strokes his goatee thoughtfully, “I hear you are quite taken with the psychology of fear, Mr. Seaborn.”
My mother pats me on the cheek, “My boy has a knack for making people scream. There has yet to be a mind he cannot break.”
“In that case, I will have to recruit your talent for Tahira’s upcoming nuptials.”
I cast a glance in her direction, “I did not realize a husband has been chosen.”
Jaafar does not give her a chance to respond.
“A suitor has yet to be chosen, however, I have begun to make arrangements for the competition that will be taking place.”
“Competition?”
“A tournament. Twelve suitors will get the opportunity to compete for my daughter’s hand and a portion of the family business.” His lips split into a smile, “It will be held in Wolf Hollow two years from now. I will choose eleven of the suitors and Tahira will choose one.”
“One?” Her head whips to the side, “We agreed I would choose six of the twelve suitors.”
“I changed my mind.” He gives her a dismissive glance, “You will choose one suitor and that is far more gracious than you deserve.”
“Father.” Anger flares in her dark eyes, “That is not fair. You cannot -
“I can do whatever I please because it is my money they will be competing for.”
“Father-
“Enough.” His dark eyes harden, “How many times do I have to tell you women should be seen and not heard?”
Tahira’s jaw tightens, but she does not say a word.
“Attention!”
A bell rings through the grand hall, silencing the conversations around us.
“The Dragon requires your presence in the dining room. Please make your way to the door on the left.”
The crowd starts to part and Jaafar’s servants quickly pack up his things. Tahira trails after her father silently, her eyes trained on the heels of his polished shoes as they disappear into the crowd.
“That man would make a great addition to my aquarium.” Ursela purses her lips in distaste, “I would enjoy watching him swim with the eels.”
"Now that is a sight I would love to see."
We follow the crowd out of the grand foyer and into the dining room. The spacious foyer disappears behind us as we enter the space made for negotiations among the board.
On a typical evening, three large mahogany tables stretch from either end of the room and offer plenty of seating options for the board and their respective prodigy. Elaborate chandeliers and candles are set out to provide a soft lighting for the unpleasant matters of business ahead .
However, that does not seem to be the case here.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Queen Marie’s shrill voice bounces off the stone walls. Uneasy looks are exchanged as we funnel past the entrance and find ourselves in a room that’s empty except for a metal folding chair stationed in the middle of the room.
My mother claps in delight, “The entertainment has finally arrived!”
The crowd makes a circle around the man tied to the chair. Blood and pieces of flesh surround his polished shoes, the neat material of his dress shirt ripped and drenched with blood.
The man’s head is covered with a burlap sack, and it suddenly dawns on me that the festivities have officially come to an end.
And the execution is about to begin.