Page 11 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
But a picture flashed through his brain—a girl, slight as a bird, with bright dark eyes. She was standing on the sun-soaked deck of theWind’s Favor, her short black hair whisked by the wind. She darted forward, wrapped both thin arms around him briefly, and laid her ear against his chest. Then, just as quickly, she pulled away. “Come back safely,” she said.
Rake’s gills slowed their frantic flutter as he clung to that crystallized moment from weeks ago. He’d been about to dive from theWind’s Favorto visit the Horror, and Mai had hugged him.
The memory was fresh and bright, a clarifying influence in his mind, unsullied by lust or pain. He concentrated on it, on her.
Mai had hugged him long before he’d saved anyone or sacrificed anything. She hadn’t been revolted by his monstrous aspect at all.
Slowly his body relaxed, uncurled.
He recalled hearing music for the first time and dancing with her. He’d stepped on her feet.
His lips twitched, stretching into a smile.
Relief rushed through him, and he began moving again, swimming slowly as he conjured more memories of Mai. The more he thought of her, the more he smiled, and the faster he moved, until he was skimming ahead unburdened.
After a long swim, he reached a healthier part of the sea, a fresher, sweeter place. He ventured to the surface, cautious of aerial predators, and he took a moment to enjoy the pink flush of the sunrise.
Mai had once asked him to show off his skill with flattery; so he’d plied her with compliments until her cheeks turned the color of the dawn sky. She’d been pretty in that moment—not as beautiful as Kestra, but attractive. He liked that Mai had large eyes. Most human eyes were so small compared to mermaid eyes; it could be disconcerting at times. Humans also had softer, rounder faces and blobbier noses than mermaids. Rake loved the rounded beauty of Kestra’s face, but he liked that Mai’s face was delicate and sharp—just different enough from a mermaid’s, yet crisp enough to be familiar.
How would Mai look when he told her about the mermaid city? He could picture it now—the light sparking in her eyes, the flush of excitement rushing into her pale cheeks. She would squeal—he could almost hear it—and she’d be so excited she could barely stand still.
With a grin, Rake started swimming again. Anticipation gave him fresh energy, and he leaped from the waves, his scales flashing gold in the morning sun as he arched high and splashed back into the surf.
5
Kestra’s hands were sweating. She wiped them on her trousers and gripped the railing, trying to breathe slower, to calm the hectic beat of her heart. She had to pretend to be quiet and steady, because Mai was clearly anything but calm—she was skittering along the railing, her black hair flying, scanning everything as the sailors brought theWind’s Favorinto port under Flay’s direction. But in Mai’s dancing steps and bright eyes Kestra could detect a strain, a fragility that scared her. Mai hadn’t been herself since the day the Entity had devoured all but a scant few of the mermaids.
Everything had changed that day, for everyone—but for Mai, the change went bone-deep. Kestra could feel it. Something had wounded her cousin to the core.
Rake’s death. That must be the source of the heart-wound. Kestra had seen them dancing together, had noted Mai’s flush in the mer-male’s presence a few times—but she’d thought it was simply a scientist’s fascination blended with a hint of attraction. Rake had been beautiful, after all. Monstrous and savage in aspect, but beautiful. Not that Mai had ever shown a particular attraction to anyone because of looks. There must have been something else.
Whatever it had been, it was one-sided. Rake had been infatuated with Kestra, and more than a little admiring of Flay as well. He’d even suggested that he and Flay share Kestra—taking turns, of course, but she had a feeling he would have consented to the idea of the three of them together.
Now she was sweating all over, not just her palms. Curse the blazing sun. Curse her nerves, too. She could easily handle the myriad interlacing tasks of a busy kitchen while serving the needs of dozens in the inn’s common room—yet when faced with a bustling port full of ships, when confronted with a sight like Stragnoag—she felt as vulnerable and out-of-place as a baby moorlin in a skirtcrab’s nest.
Stragnoag had been built on the crumbled shoulders of a collapsed mountain. Along the glimmering edge of the water, stone walls rose straight up, a defense against flooding. Countless piers extended from that wall into the bay, branching off to allow mooring places for ships of all sizes, from great galleons to modest fishing boats.
Above the sea-wall peeked a multitude of jumbled rooftops and chimneys, a cacophony of markets, businesses, and residences pooling around the foot of the fallen mountain. More houses and shops clustered along the rocky sides of the mountain, clinging to ledges and tucked into crevices. Some of the houses leaned precariously from the rock, supported by spindly slanted poles. To Kestra, those dwellings looked as if they might let go of the mountainside at any moment and crash down onto the buildings below.
The highest points of the city were three hunched hills of stone, on which stood colossal fortresses, each one larger than Kestra’s entire hometown of Anchel. Thin waterfalls trickled in tiers from the foot of one fortress, cascading between stone plazas and promenades, under arches and between buildings. From her vantage point at the ship’s rail, Kestra couldn’t see where the water spilled from the falls into the bay, but Flay had mentioned a canal in the city, along which the wealthier folk of Stragnoag liked to promenade on fine days.
The second fortress was all airy arches and sharp spires around a central cylindrical core. From it and the other two fortresses trailed thick cables, along which raced small carriage-like pods, transferring goods and people from the upper levels of the city to the lower ones and then back again.
The third fortress sat closest to the bay and was outfitted with a number of towers and some black bristly things that looked like catapults or cannons.
From the other side of the ship, Jazadri shouted and waved to Flay. The gangplank was in place and secured, no easy feat with the perilous slant of the leaking ship.
Time to go ashore.
Kestra’s stomach flipped, and she caught her breath. Near her, Mai vented a tiny squeak of excitement and terror.
Neither of them had ever set foot on any shore other than Kiken Island.
In her mind, Kestra heard her mother’s grim tones.Novelty is not something to yearn for. It either brings danger or breeds dissatisfaction.
As Kestra sucked in a steadying breath, a warm hand cupped her bare shoulder and swept down to the ruffled sleeve that banded her upper arm.
“I like this shirt,” murmured Flay. “It shows off your beautiful shoulders.”
