Page 18 of The Withering Dawn (Wicked Tides)

There was no discussion to be had.

When the sun started to crown and I saw the first hints of its orange light coming through the window, I carefully rolled off the bed and left Aeris sleeping soundly beneath the blankets. She was a heavy sleeper that morning and I took some pride in knowing that I probably had something to do with that. She did not even flinch when I put on my pants and boots, either. I took everything else in hand and left my quarters to finish getting dressed outside, hoping she would not wake.

Aleksi and Nikolas were standing just outside the door. Nikolas was spinning a knife on its tip on the railing. Aleksi looked outwardly relaxed, thumbs hanging on his thick leather belts, but if I knew the man, his thoughts were anything but relaxed.

He took a deep breath when he saw me, raising his brows as if to ask if I was ready. I wasn’t fully dressed, but I knew the sort of “ready” he was referring to.

Was I ready to finally drive a knife into Antonio’s deserving neck?

I was more than ready.

I finished putting on the rest of my garb and then turned to Nikolas.

“Don’t wake her,” I said. “She might be angry I am doing this without her.”

Nikolas nodded, sliding his knife into his boot.

“Angry?” Aleksi asked.

“She wants to be there when we kill him.”

He nodded but said nothing else about it. Once I had my coat on, we descended into one of the boats and started to head for shore. The sun was cresting over the horizon and I knew, if Kristoff had done what we asked, that we were heading toward the end of a very long and grueling road. Antonio would be there for his treasure and instead he would get us. His boys. The products of his creation come to take him apart for all that he’d done to us and those after us.

When we arrived at the shore, Cathal was waiting on the beach. He waded into the water to help pull the boat onto the sand, but the usual carefree look he had on his face had been replaced by distracted tension. Between the three of us, there was a lot of silence. I knew we were all thinking the same thing, that this was the day. The day we could be rid of the monster for good. Perhaps not the memory of him, but his body would be wiped from the world and that was going to do plenty of people a favor.

“Has Kristoff returned?” I asked.

Cathal shook his head and with a scowl, I headed toward the cliffs between that beach and Dornwich. My flintlock was loaded. My cutlass was tucked in my belt. My dagger was on my hip. One of them would hit its mark and if it didn’t finish the job, Cathal or Aleksi would.

“Nikolas alright with missing the fun?” Cathal asked.

“You know he’s not one for violence. And he doesn’t remember enough about the bastard to care.”

When we reached the cliffs, the roaring sound of waves hitting the rocks below shook the ground. Clouds had devoured the sunlight and in turn, the warmth seemed to get sucked out of the air. There was a thick log just off the path and immediately, Cathal sat down, perching an elbow on his knee and pulling out his thick knife to start carving at a stray piece of wood. But his motions were sloppy and aggressive. He wasn’t trying to make a shape. He was just trying to occupy his hands.

Aleksi started to pace, staring off toward Dornwich. Of the three of us, I felt the least transparent. Inside, I was a raging storm of anticipation. On the outside, I was a shroud over the chaos of my mind. I leaned up against a slanted palm tree and crossed my arms, staring out at the sea in an attempt to distract myself from my doubts.

What if Kristoff could not find Antonio? What if Antonio did not take the bait? What if he was not in town at all and our excitement was for nothing?

Dornwich was a dreary place, always plagued by dark skies. It was nearly impossible to tell the time of day, but I felt as if we had been waiting there for hours. Finally, I started to get restless.

“Cap’n,” Aleksi said, his voice barely audible.

He was staring intently down the beach so I followed his fixed gaze and saw three men rounding the corner of the vague path around a tuft of trees. I could make out Kristoff. He was walking with his shoulders hunched like someone had beat him over the head. The man next to him was dressed far too fancily for a hike in dirt and sand which left no doubt in my mind. His gold and yellow attire and white tights and ruffled sleeves brought back a flurry of ugly memories.

Although Antonio had aged, he was still the same devil I knew. His hair had thinned and the face that used to be round and well fed was now sunken and almost sickly like his abuse of drink was catching up to him. My nose twitched like a dog wanting to bite and I pushed off the tree to center myself on the path as the men approached. The third figure was dressed in a drab suit and the overly serious look on his face told me he was a guard of some kind. No matter. I could kill them both if it came down to it.

The moment Antonio looked up, he scanned the three of us, a look of disgust on his face like the sheer color of our clothing upset him.

The fancy prick.

“Well? Where is it?” he asked, his voice just as rotten and raspy as I remembered.

He looked over Aleksi, whose jaw was pulsing with tension. Then he looked at Cathal, who was pretending to ignore him, but his carving of the wood only grew more violent.

Then, he found me and for a moment in time, I almost believed my hateful thoughts would kill him before my knife could. He was slightly out of breath from hiking in the sand and as he dabbed his sweat-dampened forehead with a pristine, white handkerchief. I stared right into his colorless eyes, waiting. Willing him to see me. Willing him to understand. I waited for that sense of horrified recognition. For that moment when he knew I was that small boy he’d beaten and raped, grown up, strong, and voracious.

But the terror never reached his eyes. Instead, his chapped lips started to curl upward and a low, wheezing chuckle rose up from his throat. Kristoff glanced up at me, slouching further. Suddenly, I was the one feeling like I’d walked into a trap when Antonio waved his hand at his companion and was given a leather pouch of coins. He tossed it at Kristoff and within a few seconds, the traitor was scurrying away with his new riches, doubling the pouch of gems I’d already given him.

Cathal finally stood from the log, tossing the wood aside and flipping the knife in his hand just to reiterate that he had it.

“So, it’s true,” Antonio said, tucking his sweaty handkerchief in the breast pocket of his coat. “My boys have returned.”

A sick, sour taste infected my throat and I spit on the sand at Antonio’s feat.

“We’re here to collect something,” I said, my voice a low growl.

“Oh, I heard from your friend. You keep loyal companions, it seems. Now, do you have my treasure or not?”

“Oh, we have it,” Cathal said. “And we’ll be keepin’ it after we castrate ye and feed your guts to the sharks.”

I wanted that statement to affect Antonio so badly, but instead, he smiled again.

“Very creative. But I am not here to let you castrate me. Kristoff has informed me that you’re in possession of a very beautiful little siren.” My fingers curled into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms until I was sure I’d drawn blood. “I’ll be taking her and the treasure you found,” Antonio exhaled as if it was all just a simple nuisance.

“No,” I said outright, staring into his eyes until I could see his rotten soul trembling under his flesh.

Antonio raised his brows and as if on cue, a dozen other men started marching up the beach from around the bend. They were all thugs. All street rats and all armed. A low growl rumbled in my throat at the sight.

“Did you think I would be so dumb? Kristoff is very fond of coin, but he didn’t seem fond of sailing with a siren and I don’t blame him. They’re vile creatures, don’t you know? I’ll have a very good time piecing her out to the highest bidders.”

“The fuck ye will,” Cathal spit, pulling his pistol from his belt.

The guard beside Antonio pulled out his pistol in retaliation and two shots were instantly fired. The street thugs started to charge and like the coward he was, Antonio dropped to the ground to avoid a stray bullet or swinging blade.

I pulled out my flintlock and fired at the closest attacker, sending him to the ground. In my other hand, I had my cutlass and began swinging, blocking blades on all sides while Aleksi and Cathal charged into the fray. The men were untrained, drunken hired hands. A distraction. I downed another, kicking his squirming body off my sword as I scanned the chaos for Antonio. He was behind his guard loading a pistol and without thinking, I fought my way through the mob to get to him. His guard had been shot by the look of the blood staining the front of his shirt, but he didn’t look like the kind of man that surrendered to pain. He eyed me as I approached and lunged with his sword clutched in his good hand. I knocked his weapon to the side, stepped away from him, and spun, slicing the back of his neck.

The man staggered to the ground and I continued toward Antonio, fury and disdain a potent mix. I watched him stumble backwards, eyes flitting to his downed guard, a man he had likely paid a lot of money to. A man he thought was motivated enough to protect him. Perhaps he was, but money could never motivate a man more than hate.

“Hiding, are you?” I asked, marching toward him.

He fumbled with his pistol, trying to ready it.

“We can talk riches, Nazario,” he said.

“I have riches,” I shrugged, my eyes wide and crazed. I stopped and pointed my blood-stained blade at him as the noise behind me started wither. “All I need to make this day better is to see you lying dead.”

Again, his eyes danced over the massacre like he was searching for one living man to get up and help him, but we were efficient, driven by more than a few coins or the promise of ale.

“My, you’ve all grown,” he said with a sense of nauseating pride. “All so big. So strong.” He shrugged, pulling the hammer back on his pistol. “I much preferred you as boys.”

He took aim and we all dodged in different directions. The shot was fired and Aleksi jerked back, grabbing his arm with one hand. I snarled, whipping around to face Antonio when one of the men stumbled to his feet, pistol drawn.

I did not have time to pause in the face of every gun barrel. Cathal and I both charged him, tackling him to the ground. I slammed my knee into his wrist, dislodging the pistol, and then rolled away.

“Finish him,” I barked at Cathal, standing once more to find Antonio wrestling Aleksi, a fancy, thin knife in his hand.

Aleksi sliced across Antonio’s stomach, but I had no way of telling how deep it was. I grabbed hold of him, trying to pull him away, when he turned on me with his pathetic little blade, his eyes so wide that the whites nearly drowned the almost black irises.

“I should have killed you all!” he said, spit flying from his mouth. “So difficult! All of you!” Laughter burst from his throat. “Now look. So strong. That was me, you know. I made you!”

“Aye,” I hissed, shoving him backwards. “You did.”

Aleksi jumped on him, wrapping an arm around his throat from behind. Antonio thrashed, kicking his legs out toward me as Aleksi dragged him backwards, but in the madness, no one gauged the edge of the cliff.

“Cap’n!” Cathal called, but it was too late.

I reached out, grabbing the front of Antonio’s coat, but before I knew it, all three of us were tumbling over the edge of the rocks into the water below.

Aeris

My eyes burst open like someone had punched me in the chest. Around me was Nazario’s room, but he wasn’t in the bed beside me. I sat up, untangling myself from the sheets and standing, a light sweat slickening my skin. Frantically, I looked around, unsure what I was looking for.

On the floor, the dress he’d gotten me was piled in a heap of fabric, but I stepped over it, heading for the door.

I burst out into the gray light of day. Clouds consumed the sun and the scent of rain permeated the air. There was a chill in the wind that coated my body in an eerie chill. Sitting on a barrel was Nikolas. He jumped to his feet at the sight of me marching nude across the deck. Jogging past me, he headed into Nazario’s quarters while I stared out toward the beach.

I knew Nazario wasn’t on the ship. I knew it. I could smell his absence. I could taste it.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, remembering the spicy-sweet taste of him on my tongue. The tang blossomed in my mouth and cast a budding warmth through my body like he was there, his arms around me. But it felt… wrong. He was stressed. His heart was beating fast. His blood was pumping too quickly and too hard.

Nikolas returned with one of Nazario’s sheets and draped it over me, but I barely noticed.

“He left me, didn’t he?” I said.

Nikolas circled around to look at me and shook his head, pointing at me and then at the ship as if I was to stay put.

“Something is wrong,” I argued. “I can feel it.”

His brows knitted and just as they did, the sound of a pistol firing a shot echoed across the water from the shore. The two of us walked toward the railing. I knew he was getting a bad feeling, too. A pistol firing should not have caused such worry. Nazario had gone to kill a man after all.

But it wasn’t right.

When another gunshot rang through the air, it was almost as if it had hit me in my chest. I pushed away from the railing, shaking my head. I should have been there.

Nikolas tapped my arm and when I turned to him, he was just staring at me, frowning like he knew I was thinking of doing something reckless.

I moved away from him, gaining a little distance in case one more prompt drove me toward the shore.

A third shot went off and I could do nothing to stop myself.

I threw the blanket off my shoulders and swung a leg over the railing. Nikolas gathered up the blanket, but he didn’t stop me. It was as if he wanted me to go. As if he was just as uncertain as I was.

I dove toward the water, my heart flipping in my chest at how far the descent was. When I hit the surface, it was like hitting solid ground.

The water was dark.

Cold.

Haunted.

Fear choked me in the first seconds of my plunge, but I swallowed it, and before I could cower from the pain, I welcomed the shift and let it ravage my body.

My bones cracked.

My skin tore apart and mended itself, stitching together with stretched veins and tendons. My muscles wove themselves into a new form, forcing my legs to bend and fuse. Forcing fins to spring from my length.

I felt crazed, but I needed to get to Nazario.

From a cloud of my own blood, I sliced through the water and sped toward the beach, ignoring every terrifying presence that I felt stalking the deep water around me.

Things were watching me.

Eyes were following my every move, but I ignored them, my mind focusing on one thing.