Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Another vessel chugs overhead. Until it doesn’t.
The Great Devourer rips it in two, using all twenty of her arms. Shipwrecking is quickly becoming a favorite shared pastime.
“A lot has changed since I was last awake,” the kraken goddess comments, all five eyes watching pensively as one half of the ship sinks into the deep.
The other half remains curled in her tentacles.
Ianthe and her kin make quick work of the sailors, cutting off one bubbling cry after the next. As they harvest the fresh meat, Ianthe wonders what the goddess will take next as a trophy for her crown.
They’re nearly finished with their task when the Great Devourer rips off the ship’s propeller and affixes it to her temple. It reminds Ianthe of a flower, a pretty thing that only grows on land and that her shallow water kin sometimes weave into their hair.
The second half of the ship follows the first, no longer needed, groaning all the way into the dark abyss.
When the goddess doesn’t say anything more, Ianthe replies, “This is all I’ve ever known. But our elders say the same. Mighty storms and the raging sea just don’t keep the surface dwellers away anymore. I wish I was alive to see the days when it did.”
Maybe the Great Devourer can make this wish come true now that she’s returned. Ianthe slings a makeshift sack of meat over her shoulder and gestures for her kin to go on without her. She wants these next moments alone with the goddess.
After the toils of the day, the pod makes the dive home without protest.
Once they’re too far away to hear, the Great Devourer says, “I don’t know what can be done to reverse the damage already done. The poisoned water, the noise—but I wouldn’t be much of a goddess if I allowed the surface dwellers to continue unchallenged.”
“No one creature can tackle this problem alone, not even the Twenty-Armed Goddess herself,” Ianthe grins, nudging one of the legendary being’s many arms. “We’ll find a way forward, together.” It starts right here. Right now. “All of us will.”
A chilling, conspiratorial smile graces the goddess’s fang-filled maw, in complete contrast to the gentle way in which she curls a tentacle around Ianthe’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Join me, Ianthe. Let us remind them what it is to fear the sea.”
Ianthe’s own smile stretches past her eyes. It’s the thing of surface dweller nightmares; they always scream when she smiles. “I’m your avenging warrior, Great Devourer,” she says with a bow.
“Still so formal,” Lady Leviathan admonishes. Too formal. Especially after the intimacy they shared. When Ianthe says Great Devourer, it’s meant more as an honorific than as a statement of fact or a name. And that just won’t do.
Not only does Lady Leviathan need to prove she’s still worthy of her titles, there’s also a propulsive desire to hear how her name sounds on Ianthe’s tongue. She cups the mermaid’s cheek, watching her charming blue flush reappear.
All three of Lady Leviathan’s hearts flutter; it’s quickly becoming a mainstay response to the deep-sea maiden, and she finds she quite enjoys the feeling of excitement bubbling within her. They might not make it very far into the deep if another mating frenzy takes hold.
“For you, it’s just Lady Leviathan.”
“Lady Leviathan,” Ianthe repeats, bioluminescence sparkling. “What do you need me to do?”
There’s much she wants from the mermaid. Companionship. Affection. Discovery. More intrepid touch. That will all follow in due time. For now, there’s work to do.
“Help me bring forth all the greatest terrors of the sea.”
The mermaid’s smile is a ghastly rictus of sharp teeth, and Lady Leviathan has never seen anything more beautiful. “With pleasure.”