Chapter Eighteen #2
Pedr straightened so fast he leaped into the air, landing on the balls of his feet. The new actions of his Arcanist body, stronger and far more capable, continued to astound him. With another sniff, he confirmed the scent originated behind him.
He spun.
Five female figures hovered over the beach, borne on the fog that wrapped the mountain, the ship, and the bramble bushes in a tightening noose.
A familiar and horrid creature stood in the middle of the five women. “Stinna!” he shouted. “Release Mila.”
Stinna’s mad smile spread across her face.
She’d blackened her lips into neat lines, dressed in a sultry abomination of ropes and darkest fabrics that flapped in the wind.
The blood from earlier had been wiped away, replaced with several colors.
Were they paint flecks or something else?
Only her ridiculous mane of hair remained unaltered.
“Or what, Pedr?”
“She wants to be with me.”
“So you think. She told us something different. Her words were unsufferable and smelly and?—”
Through clenched teeth, he muttered, “You lie.”
She smiled.
With a wave of her hands, Stinna revealed a column of smoke at her side. It rolled free, revealing Mila within. Hands bound, mouth gagged. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw him.
Pedr pounced to action. One moment he stood next to the gorgon, and the next he flew through the air.
Stinna’s fist slammed into his stomach; she was faster than him. He absorbed the blow and dropped to the side. His shoulder slammed into the sand with a lurch, but he landed exactly where he wanted.
In the surf.
With a thought, he beckoned the water and the sea raced to surround him. Shite, but he never would have guessed how much power his protectiveness lent. The arcane filled him, toe to skull.
Pedr shoved out of the water, arms and legs wheeling, and soared toward Stinna. Stinna awaited with a bored expression and moved lazily out of the way. But not fast enough.
Pedr grabbed her ankle and wrenched it.
She roared.
A kick to his chest shoved him to the sand, and another shrieking musical note kept him there. The note lasted only a few moments, but the twisting headache delayed him another five. Pedr grunted.
Rolling to his knees, he sprang up in time to witness the hideous transformation occur.
Stinna became a Siren Queen.
Her grotesque expression elongated into a feral, inhumane monstrosity.
Her mouth expanded, eyes clouded into holes as dark as the gathering tempest. Paleness stole through her skin, revealing cold blood veins.
The cloud elevated her. Jaws splitting wide, a roar built deep in her chest. The hair on the back of his arms stood up in preparation.
The other four sirens watched, regarding him down long, judgmental noses. Mila squirmed against her bonds. Noises emitted from her bound mouth, mere squeaks. At the sight of Mila’s growing fear, Pedr couldn’t contain his lashing terror. The chopping, violent sea responded, whipping into wild chaos.
Foam sprayed. Wind raced. Breakers bashed.
While Stinna’s eyes rolled back in her head and her rounded lips widened, he dodged through the sand, skidded into the water, and commanded the current.
A wall of water elevated and reached for Stinna.
Two Siren Queens jerked forward to stop him, but another held out her arms to prevent their interference.
Now! he commanded.
Halfway to Stinna, the sea stopped. A voice rang out, calm, unyielding. It widened to fill the beach.
“No siren song is required here, Stinna. I believe he’s seen enough to respect who we are, and appreciate the power we hold. Thank you for your protection.”
Stinna’s horrifying transformation ceased. Her eyes cleared, mouth closed. The whiteness restored its pinkish-pale hue, freckled with madness. A sixth siren appeared from nowhere.
Pedr regarded her. Tall, slender through the shoulders, with expressive eyes that looked all-too familiar. Her garments flapped in a gentling breeze. The sea calmed despite his command to greater ire.
Was this Mother?
The constricting fog retreated enough to reveal other women of varying height, thickness, and profile. Tucked into the cloud, he couldn’t distinguish their features. The aunts which Mila had mentioned?
Twenty of them?
Pedr plowed over the stunning fact that these were living, horrifying, very-real Siren Queens. He didn’t want to study their faces, nor desire them to be real. Bad blood hummed beneath everything here. But he wanted Mila more than he wanted to make sense of this, so he ignored common sense.
“Who are you?” the newly-arrived siren asked.
“Pedr. And you?”
“Vassi, the Mother Queen.”
She paused.
He gave no reciprocation. With a huff, she drawled, “You must be an Arcanist. The arrogance seeps from you.”
“Did you need to ask?”
She gestured to the water with a placid expression. “I suppose not. I’ve never seen a human summon a wave quite like that. They curse them often, but never command them. Humans smell better, too. You stink like a gorgon.”
“That’s not my fault. Your guard dog attacked me.”
Vassi arched a wry eyebrow.
“Leave the Westlands,” she commanded, “and never return. Whom you desire can never be yours. We are here to forbid your entrance.”
Pedr jabbed a thumb to his chest. “You think I want to be here? Not a chance. I can’t wait to leave and never return, but I’m here for Mila. This can be very simple. Return her to me and then we’ll leave and you can return to your stony isolation.”
Her hints of affability evaporated. “Mila is not yours.”
“I would say the same.”
“She is no pawn.”
“That’s interesting for you to say.”
The jab hit home, because the siren sucked her cheeks in. She contemplated him for a moment. When she spoke, he had the sense that she contained rising irritation.
“It’s admirable that you come with all this . . . misplaced heroism, Pedr. I assure you that it isn’t needed here. Depart and don’t return.”
Onyx smoke gathered behind her. She elevated.
“Ask her!” Pedr shouted. “Ask her what she wants.”
Vassi snarled.
“I promise you, Vassi,” he called to her still elevating form, “I will live on this beach, kill your gorgons, set fire to your grasses and bramble bushes. I will fight whatever you throw at me until I reach your home and dig her out with my bare hands. Mila wants to be with me, and I will fight for her without ceasing.”
Her eyes tapered to slashes. “Be careful what you threaten, Arcanist. You may find you have no opportunity to make good your promise.”
Tears raced down Mila’s cheeks. As badly as he wanted to face Mila, check her, speak to her, he forced himself not to turn her direction.
He’d lose focus. This back-and-forth negotiation had no chance of yielding positive results.
He could only use it to learn more about them, and plan his move later.
“No,” he said.
Vassi hissed under her breath. “You are irritatingly persistent. Be gone.”
A feeling like fire surged under Pedr’s body, elevating him off the sand and flinging him like a sack of potatoes to the ocean. He crashed onto the bow of his ship. Rolling side over side, he barely stopped himself from slamming into the wheel.
Everything hurt.
Teeth clenched through the powerful agony, he forced himself to stand.
All of the Siren Queens formed a half circle in the cloud and stared.
Stinna cackled, finger pointed, one hand on her stomach while she laughed.
Pedr summoned a wave, but the sirens blithely hovered away at the last moment.
The wave crashed over the land, the sirens overpowering his arcane ability.
Scowling, Pedr dropped into the waves and attempted again.
Again.
Stinna howled with laughter at every paltry try while Vassi watched with increasing discontent.
She countered his pathetic, wobbly arcane, while the lines between her brow collected.
On his command, the sea flung him into their midst but Stinna anticipated his plan.
She swept Mila out of his way. He toppled into the bramble bushes, cursing as they scratched him.
She laughed so hard she floated sideways in the air.
He collided with an invisible wall on his next attempt.
“Let him stay, Vassi,” Stinna sang, bouncing through the air. “I do love to watch them destroy themselves.”
“You’re wasting our time, Pedr,” Vassi called. “Cease this foolish errand and let us all return to our lives.”
Pedr stole a glance at Mila. Tear streaks stained her cheeks. She shook her head, begging him with her eyes to stop. Pedr leaned his hands on his bent knees as the cuts sealed themselves.
“No.”
“Pedr,” Vassi chided. “You cannot win. We are playing with you. Shall I make that very clear again, or will you accept it?”
“Never.”
Summoning his next plan to the forefront of his mind, he sprinted across the beach. Arms flying to the side, he leaped into the air. A growing wave formed beneath him. Two others surged from around his ship and reached for the Siren Queens. Long out of reach, they skated away like water skippers.
Vassi’s voice boomed with a command. “If you don’t cease this assault, Arcanist, Amalia shall curse you and prevent your blasted arrogance from distracting us.”
“Kill him, Vassi!” Stinna hissed. “Let me eat his heart while it’s still beating.”
Stinna’s growing, diabolical laughter set his hair on end. Bastid Queen, she was a piece of work. His undying hatred for Stinna continued to build. Nefarious and wriggling and writhing and awful. He would never be rid of it.
Mila sobbed.
Pedr threw himself at the invisible shield again.
Again.
It cracked.