4. Enna
Chapter four
Enna
My tail is burning. Scraping, more like. As if my scales are dragging across scorching, rough pumice.
My eyes fling open, greeted by the black stone streets of Vespyr, inches away from scraping off my nose. A rough rope threads through my vision, tethered to my harness, where I secured the Abyssal Princess in transit. But the weight of her corpse is gone.
The princess .
I’ve lost the fucking princess in Vespyr—the vile, malicious city that has been home to the scum of Adria since Goddess Tephra inhabited the sea. The city drowns in poverty, and a catch like mine will draw attention. Bounty hunters. Death-dealers. Starved guppies looking for easy meat. That corpse could be anywhere.
I thrash my tail, lifting myself in a fury. If some motherfucker is after my bountihead, I won’t be dragged through the streets without a fight. I grab the rope and yank, bringing me closer to my kidnapper.
Odissa barrels into me with a grunt. Her tentacles tangle around me, ruffled with a cutting edge. “This is the thanks you give me after I dragged your ungrateful ass to safety?”
Then the princess’s corpse bobs into me, attached to a second tether rope, also threaded through Odissa’s harness.
“How did you…?” Odissa is weak. There’s no way she completed the journey alone.
“Very slowly.”
“And the dredgebeast?”
“Never returned. You zapped him good.”
We don’t mention the wounded soldier. I know I failed; Odissa will not set me free.
I grunt, making quick work of her tether knot. My body is sore, my magic barely beginning to refill in my gut. The thermal waters of Vespyr thaw my frozen fingers. “And the rendezvous?”
“Not much farther.” She struggles to swim under the weight of the princess’s corpse but seems to be managing well enough, so I let her keep it. Less work for me.
I scan the street for familiar landmarks. But every lamppost, glowing with green glowmites, looks the same in this goddessdamn city, and the abodes are too similar to distinguish. The dwellings carve into the face of a rocky column, the dark spaces within hollowed out as if by the goddess’s spoon.
The city of Vespyr clings to the side of a vertical tower of pumice, warmed by the flowing lava within—the only source of life this far into the Drink. Sprouting from the sprawling desert of lifeless sea-rock and sand that covers the rest of the Drink, Vespyr’s rockface stretches toward the surface, leagues above, disappearing at the edge of sight. I’ve swum to its peak once in my life, where the black water fades to gray, then blue. There’s nothing but wide, open sea, and the stretching terror of it nearly stopped my heart.
Down here, the black water clutters with debris. Vespyr has been a dump for as long as I can remember. I weave through the dross as I follow Odissa through the street channel. If this is the last time I swim this route, it won’t be a moment too soon.
We pass groups of mermaids huddled in their caves. A few are out swimming like me, but most have extinguished their lanterns and settled in for rest. As I pass, they glare up at us, their bulging eyes glowing faintly. They track my movements, round lips peeling back over sharp fangs.
As if I haven’t spent most of my life scrambling in the darkness, just like the lot of them. Death-dealing is a respectable trade in Vespyr—one of the best sources of income among a cutthroat group of mermaids—but I’m the only death-dealer with magic.
And that means I can’t be trusted. I’m one of them , a siren blessed with Voice. At any moment, I might force them to submit to the mercy of my magic.
I’m used to the wary looks. Sirens don’t belong here unless they’re dead and dragged through the street. I look like my siren father, with my smooth white skin and angelic black tail, features softened by magic. My mother’s mermaid blood gave me fangs, spines, and the poison that runs in my veins. By Vespyr’s judgment, I shouldn’t be here. I should be cushioned and cozy in a water-tight mansion in the royal city. Warmed by magic. Ignorant of the realities across the Drink.
Vespyr would kill me in my sleep, if I weren’t Odissa’s weapon, bound to her by oath and magic far stronger than my own.
As I slip further down the rockface, the pockets of dwellings disperse, giving way for more of the rough, black stone and signaling the trade district. Soon, the Hissing Bloodfish, the small tavern where I conduct most of my transactions, comes into view. Relief spreads through my chest at the sight of its creaking metal sign picketed to the stone. Almost there.
Deliver the princess. Collect the bounty.
It should have been simple. But Odissa doesn’t make the dive into the Hissing Bloodfish; instead she swims on, passing into the lower reaches of Vespyr. The glowmite lamps gradually lessen in number, and the pumice column grows warmer the closer we swim to the sea floor.
“Something you forgot to mention, Odissa?” I snarl. Mermaids poke their heads out of their caves as we pass. Their necks crane to get a better look at our obviously expensive cargo. Even in the darkness, I can sense their gazes assessing me.
“Not much farther,” Odissa says. “Keep up.”
“Who’s the client, Odissa?” I rack my brain for our usual customers, skipping through the dour faces.
She doesn’t answer.
My stomach skirts another dwelling, and I barely evade the mermaid hiding inside. Long, wiry hands writhe out of the hole, grabbing for the princess. Hissing, I unsheathe a knife and slice the mermaid’s grasping fingertips. With a piercing howl, the hands retreat. Motherfucker.
The mermaid’s wailing echoes after us until finally, Odissa dives for an opening in the rock. I recognize the entrance instantly: the jagged outline of its signature protruding edge. Like rows of teeth in black stone gums, the Jaws are aptly named.
Odissa disappears between the Jaws, entering the home of the Eater of Souls. And I have no choice but to follow her inside.