Chapter Forty-Six
The Room of Happy Days was empty. Of people, at least. Alora hurried to the edge.
“Mermaid,” she hissed. When nothing stirred, she said, louder, “Mermaid! I’ve come to set you free.”
She waited for what felt like many minutes—but was likely only seconds—before gritting her teeth and grumbling, working at the zipper of her gown.
She’d only managed an inch before she remembered she needn’t bother fussing with it, and imagined the entire thing unzipped.
It dropped to the floor with more noise than a gown had any business creating.
Why Merridon thought to put her in such a heavy thing made no sense; she couldn’t have run beneath his entrancement anyway.
Her shift beneath was thin and ivory, covered only by a crimson corset that pulled her waist in and pushed her breasts to ungodly heights. But she’d not waste time imagining anything more. She shucked her shoes and promptly dove into the pool.
It wasn’t cold, but still the change in environment shocked her. She’d gone in so slowly last time. Alora opened her eyes before the bubbles managed to settle and felt struck by how lovely it really was beneath the surface. She’d not been swimming in ages. She paddled forward.
The mermaid waited for her. In a nearly identical position as before, it studied her approach, and Alora recognized the expression. Resignation, but haunted. Haunted by a bare flickering of hope.
Alora gestured when she neared, careful not to get lost within the mermaid’s gaze lest she be swept away into a memory. Up, she pointed. Free, she mimed, pulling at her face.
The mermaid angled its head, clawed fingers raising to the barred mask.
Yes, Alora nodded.
But the mermaid made no further movement. It remained in the corner, iridescent tail swaying in the pool’s depths, waiting. Alora, however, could not wait. She was unpracticed and decidedly out of air. She kicked to the surface.
Her nose broke through the water the same moment Marshall Merridon burst through the door.
The startled cry never made it passed her teeth.
Alora only managed a small breath before dropping below the surface as Merridon filled the doorway.
It was nowhere near enough air to hold herself down for long; she only hoped the water was dim enough, the sconces kept low enough, that he would not see her and leave.
So much for that.
What precious air she kept left in a flurry of bubbles when a rough grip encircled her arm. Alora screamed in the pool, flailing, managing only a glimpse of the mermaid watching oh-so-carefully through the disrupted water.
Fine, you do not trust me? she thought, and focused on the picture of the creature in its horrid mask, before imagining the straps severed through. There you are!
Not a second later, and she was hauled up and over the ledge.
Coughing and sputtering, water pouring from her nose and mouth, Alora flipped to her hands and knees, begging for breaths that burned.
But Marshall Merridon wouldn’t be deterred by the pathetic picture she made.
Frazzled to a frenzy, his hand encircled her throat this time and hauled her to her feet.
“What have you done to my mansion, Miss Smith? Or I should I say…Miss Pennigrim!”
Alora must have appeared as taken aback as she felt, because Merridon huffed a humorless laugh, his opposite hand coming up to his wounded head.
“Betrayal. Betrayed by those I thought most loyal to me. My performers. My son. My sister. It took her until just minutes ago to explain to me that I’d been bludgeoned.
Even longer to be persuaded into being more forthcoming with the details.
You wench! I catalogue my contracts twice a day!
Did you think I wouldn’t notice what was missing? ”
Alora choked as his thumb pressed to that delicate point. His forefinger, too. Good god, would she really die in the Room of Happy Days? What luckless irony.
She attempted to alleviate the pressure against her arteries, but her toes hardly touched the floor anymore.
“Lucky for you, little liar, that I want you.”
That he needed her, more like. But leave it to Marshall Merridon to stroke his own ego even with his mansion collapsing around him. His grip eased by the smallest fraction, Alora finding her footing again.
“Now, you will tell me everything you’ve done. Spare nothing. If you do, I might rethink using this and start over fresh.” At that, he waved a blowgun, newly loaded.
Alora mentally shook her head. Did he think her that much of an idiot?
He would dart her anyway—she knew it for fact—only now he’d have her answers first. It would be an inconvenience to him, of course.
He’d have to convince her of her enchantment, of how to wield it, and there would likely be many mistakes.
But for a loyal performer capable of granting any desire? Any hiccups could be considered minor.
But Merridon had forgotten her previous trick, and with the oxygen once more returned to her brain, Alora imagined the needled end into one of rubber. He didn’t notice at all.
Nor did he notice the mermaid swimming carefully below the surface toward them, its silver eyes and long, yellow hair the only features visible.
He also didn’t notice the impenetrable dark sweeping along the floor, taking the sconce light and casting them deeper in shadow.
Alora did, though, because she was a designer, and she liked details.
Three things happened then, and they seemed to happen all at once:
Bash emerged from the dark, and her throat was released at the same moment Marshall Merridon’s was captured.
The mermaid broke the surface and sank its claws into its former master’s ankles until he screamed.
And Alora imagined a gag in the conman’s mouth so he could listen for once and not speak.
“How dare you touch her,” said Bash, a rasping growl that sent Alora’s teeth into her lip.
He didn’t tower over his father; in truth, he was not taller than him, but in this moment, the Urchin captain seemed to loom high above, ready to exact retribution.
A slew of muffled words came from Marshall Merridon’s mouth.
“Shut up.” Bash shook him hard enough that the rubber dart and blowgun tumbled into the water with a splash.
But Master Marshall Merridon, owner of Opulence Mansion, did not take kindly to hearing his own favorite command turned upon him.
He made to kick out, only to scream anew, as his captured ankles tore and bled freely.
He tried then to swing at Bash, but Alora had been forthright in her thinking after seeing his kick.
Like what had once adorned Bash’s wrists, shackles lashed themselves to Marshall Merridon’s.
Bash’s had been iron, though. Master Merridon’s were gold to match his outfit—and very heavy.
Expensive, thought Alora.
Not that she’d ever sell them. Heavens knew there were enough dark artifacts in the world without adding accursed shackles to the mix. And after adorning Marshall Merridon’s wrists, that’s what they would assuredly be: cursed.
Bash dragged his father in close. “You have taken advantage of every soul who’s ever made the mistake of trusting you.
Me included. Your intentions have always been self-serving, your greed limitless, and you’ve not cared a whit for all you’ve hurt in the process.
I’ll have no part of you anymore, and I wish that every part of you now regrets the day you traded for me, the sad child who had all the hope for a family. ”
Whatever he saw in Bash’s eyes seemed to mesmerize Merridon; he didn’t attempt to strike or speak. Perhaps it was the resolve there. He must have known he wouldn’t ever walk free.
Seconds pulsed in the air until Marshall Merridon attempted a single word.
“Please?” Bash laughed aloud, an inhumane sound behind the mask, humorless and deadened. “No.”
Alora wasn’t sure what he would have done then, darted him or stabbed him, but she supposed it didn’t matter, as Lennox burst through the door, panting and wild, her dress scorched.
“There you…are. Ran. Must stop…smoking.” She closed the door behind her, where she leaned against it.
“Good news! I burned all the contracts. Learned this is one of my old dresses and not fireproofed. Bad news! There are about two dozen Urchins below stairs, and they’ve rounded up all the performers. ”
“Fucking hell,” swore Bash, then shook Merridon when he grinned behind the gag.
“Give him to me.”
At once, the three of them looked to the mermaid. Even Merridon attempted a sidelong glance.
The creature had come above the water until Alora could see its entire face along with the graceful curve of its neck.
The mermaid’s features still appeared similar to the face she’d imagined for her childhood doll, though much more menacing considering she could see every needlepoint of many teeth.
Scars lined both cheeks, a wicked reminder of Marshall Merridon’s cruelty.
“Give him to me. I have been so hungry for fresh meat. So many years. Many years and only scraps of burnt ends.”
“Are you sure you want him? He’s pure evil. Pond scum, some would say.” Alora pursed her lips at Merridon’s form.
“Evil or good, it does not matter. Give him to me.” Claws retracted only to dig into the generous calves hidden beneath Merridon’s trousers. Not even the gag could tamp his shriek.
Alora moved closer to Bash, until his eyes met hers, shifting green to black. “It’s up to you. He’s your—”
“My father died when I was a boy. He is nothing to me.”
Bash spared Marshall Merridon another glance, but in the end, nothing more was said.
Instead, he pushed out lightly with the hand encircling his adoptive father’s throat.
Merridon lost his balance. Bound hands waved uselessly above his head before he toppled backward into the water with a spraying splash.
Alora scanned the surface, though she could see little.
Even when the water turned red, a crimson so beloved by Opulence’s owner, she didn’t move away.
Aside from the initial splash, hardly a disturbance marked Master Marshall Merridon’s passing into the afterlife.
Lennox must have been correct in a mermaid’s capabilities in transfixing its prey to a peaceful death.
“That’s that, then,” murmured Lennox from the door.
“Aside from Feebledire and two dozen Urchins and all the stories spreading about Enver by panicked members as we speak, sure. That’s that.” If Bash meant his remarks as sarcastic, they weren’t. They’d only come out flat.
Alora stepped beside him, her hand folding into his. She wasn’t satisfied until he squeezed it back. “This has been a terrible business. From day one.”
“It has,” Bash agreed, and looked down at her. He blinked, pulled back, then looked. From her bare feet to her head, kohl undoubtedly smeared down her cheeks.
If he hadn’t seen her before, he finally saw her now, and she could tell even beneath the mask that his jaw had fallen, color creeping up his collar.
“I couldn’t swim in that dress!”
“Alora. You’re—”
“Devastating,” said Lennox. “Yes, she knows. You know, I know, gods above and devils below know. The Urchins, remember? The Urchins.”
Alora flushed at Lennox’s obvious frustration. Or was it Bash’s staring? Either way, she felt hot all over, no matter she was wearing next to nothing, and that it was sopping wet.
“One moment,” murmured Alora, embarrassed, and swapped her clothing for a simple dress. Simple for her, at least. It still cinched her waist and flared at her hip, and there were an assortment of butterflies and bees stitched at the waist. Blue, her favorite color. “Ah, so light. Let’s go.”