Page 122 of Curse the Fae

I race after them, stroking at a breakneck pace, crashing through wave after wave. Beyond a patch of ripples, four silhouettes huddle atop a mantle of flat rock protruding from a wall. I crash through and brace myself before smashing into the edifice.

“Cove!” Lark yells.

My sisters scramble toward me on all fours, with Cerulean and Puck bringing up the rear. They’re alive. They’re soaked, clothes and hair plastered to their faces, and a series of bloody lacerations pouring from foreheads and shoulders. But they’re alive!

A wave slams into me.

Cerulean’s wings retract and merge into his back as he extends his hand for me. I ignore it. “Where’s Elixir?”

“Searching for you,” Puck shouts over the quagmire while bracing Juniper. “He’ll come back! Now get the fuck out of the water!”

That’s what a rational person would do. The river is Elixir’s domain, and he can breathe in the depths, and his viper tail will do the rest. That’s what I should believe, should trust.

Any swimmer understands logic and basic survival instincts. Never willingly dive into a rapid, or a tidal wave, or a flood.

I rip off the necklace and slap it into Cerulean’s waiting palm. Then I glance at my sisters, who see the look on my face.

Juniper barks, “Cove, no!”

Lark squawks, “Cove, don’t you fucking dare—”

“I love you!” I shout to them. “Count to three hundred.”

I drop below the surface, the descent blocking out their cries. He’s down here, and he moves fast, so he should have covered every inch of ground by now.

Something’s delaying him. Something’s wrong.

I make for the kelpie tunnel—then reel back, my scalp shrieking with pain. A set of fingers hooks onto the roots and yanks me around. I fight to keep my mouth closed, to keep from chugging gallons of water, to keep my oxygen preserved.

A pair of spiteful eyes glitter, the lower lids smudged in black. Slashes of gills pulsate in a succession of vindictive fits from the Fae’s throat. The merman seethes at me, a swamp of hair agitating around his head.

Scorpio.

I remember Elixir lashing him while dragging me across The Twisted Canals. Elixir, choking him for trying to pounce on me in The Mer Cascades. Elixir, poisoning him later for that same incident.

The Fae wears every single grudge on his countenance. I see him relish this stroke of luck, his vice grip hooking onto me. I lurch away, but he seizes my elbows.

His expression asks,Where do you think you’re going?

Scorpio can’t kill me before the game is over. But he can make sure this moment hurts.

Yet more than horror, a turbulent madness builds in my fists, in the soles of my feet, and in my molars. Elixir could be harmed or trapped. Maybe this fiend had done it, or maybe I’m finished tolerating these beings, because maybe I’ve had enough of them and enough of this hatred.

I fight back, scraping my fingernails across the Fae’s cheeks as his webbed hands lug me down. I might as well be brawling with iron shackles. Against his immortal strength and ability to draw breath down here, I’m waging a losing war.

But there’s one thing that always works, no matter the creature. Also, I’ve learned from making love to Elixir that mermen have all the necessary parts. I grab my assailant by the shoulders, use them for leverage, and ram my knee into his groin.

The merman howls, frothing at the mouth and keeling forward. He releases me into the tumult. As he does, a streak of light gleams from his chest, where a small vial hangs like a charm from a neck strap. I recognize the salted contents but can’t fathom why Scorpio has the vial or how he’d managed to obtain it from Elixir’s den.

Either way, my left hand takes advantage and swipes the vial from around the merman’s throat, the way I used to pickpocket baubles from nobles. Then I thumb open the stopper and fling the contents into Scorpio’s eyes. A dust cloud of sparkling granules detonates into his pupils. The Fae’s howls amplify as he wedges his palms into his eye sockets.

I release the vial, pump away from the merman, and twist to flee when my gaze stumbles into two asterisks of light. Gilded irises cut through the void, the rings kindling with fury.

Gold. So much gold.

Elixir’s body slices through the water like a blade, his viper tail whipping the rabid current out of the way. He lances straight for the merman, whose own tail has shifted into legs.

Remnant flecks of salt bleed into the river and sting my eyes, as if the pool has turned into the ocean. I recall Elixir saying the vial would salt any body of water. My eyes blink against the sensation, struggling to remain open.

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