Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“I do,” she says, facing forward again as we walk toward the back of the ship, both of us listing to the side as we do. We’re a level above the hold, and the ship groans and creaks in its own eerie song punctuated by the slap of the waves. We are somewhere off the coast of Southern Chile, and the weather has taken a turn for the worse. Any day now, we’re supposed to enter the strait, which should give us some relief.
“I find it peculiar that you were more concerned about me being a priest than about me being a turned Vampyre. A monster.”
“I suppose a monster is something we all have to grapple with deep inside.”
“But not you,” I point out. “You’re just a human.”
She comes to a stop outside the closed door to the jail cell and quirks up her dark brow. “Even humans have the devil inside them.” Then she opens the door and shows me into a room where a large, human-sized cage stands in the corner.
My mouth goes dry, and I’m on high alert. Is this a trap? No doubt I could fight her off, but if the rest of the crew joined with the intention of locking me in there, there’s not much I could do.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “This is our jail. It’s not for you.”
I step inside the room and look at it from a distance. There are a few other items of interest in here—chains hanging from the wall and ceiling, a long, empty glass box with a lid.
She adds, “Well, I should say, it’s not for you yet.”
I frown at her. “Have I done something to offend you, my lady?”
“Possibly,” she says. Then, she gathers her black hair and piles it on top of her head, showcasing her gills. “I know you’ve seen these. I know you know what they are. They said you have experience with Syrens, so you must know that I am one.”
“A Syren with legs,” I remark carefully. “How peculiar.”
“Yes,” she says, letting her hair back down. “It is very peculiar. I won’t go into the logistics of it, but since you were a witch, or are a witch, I’m sure you can guess what happened.”
Larimar’s words ring in my ears.
I know a Syren who wanted legs instead of a tail. She wanted to be able to become a human, to walk and live on land. The sea witch was able to do that for her.
My mouth feels full of sand, and I try to swallow. “A witch gave you legs,” I say hoarsely. “What kind of witch? How did that happen? When? Is that common?”
Her brows pull together. “It was a sea witch,” she says warily. “Her name was Edonia, and as far as I know, it’s not a common thing. I wanted legs so I could be on land.”
“But why?”
She shrugs. “I was young and terribly stupid. I was angry at my father for ignoring me, for paying more attention to my older sisters. So I made a deal with her…” She waves a dismissive hand at me. “At any rate, it’s a long story and, depending on how you behave, there are many days and nights ahead of us to tell it.”
I’m trying to remember if Larimar ever said anything about her family or her sisters, but she never told me anything.
“What do you mean ‘behave’?” I ask, thinking back to what she just said.
“I heard the rumors of a Syren being found in the waters by your village, and I heard your account of what happened.”
“From who?”
“From Abe,” she says with a coy smile. “You get that doctor some rum and he’ll tell you everything.”
Skip mews, and she reaches down to scoop the cat up into her arms.
“I know,” she says to the cat. “But I have to make sure he’s not a threat.”
“Are you talking to the cat?”
“And the cat is talking back,” she says frostily.
I ignore that. I suppose being on a ship for too long will do that to you. “What did Abe tell you?”
“That you hunted for the Syren, caught her, tortured her a little, fed from her, and then she escaped. How did she get away?”
I remain composed. “She was drying out. I put her in the surf to wet her tail, and that’s the last thing I remember. She must have hit me with it.”
“I’m glad she escaped,” she says.
“I’m not.”
She gives me a knowing smile. “And that’s why I need to know if you’ll behave. I can’t have you capturing these Syrens and trying to torture or feast on them.”
“No?”
“I’m a Syren, after all,” she says. “Even now. With magic, I can get my tail back anytime I am submerged. I’m still a monster, same as you, and I must protect my own kind, even if we’re feral beasts. You must have felt the same way about your kin at the monastery.”