Page 71 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
In his mind, Rake created a future where he and Mai and Jewel drifted together in the sunlit shallows of a reef, admiring everything beautiful or strange, observing the endless patterns of life. He imagined mating with Mai in her mermaid form, spawning a brood of wriggling young whose eyes shone bright like hers and whose hair was black with shades of blue. He thought perhaps a swarm of new spawn would erase the faint ache in his heart whenever he thought of all the young he’d spawned with the Queens, the ones they had cast out or corrupted before he had a chance to know them.
But he wasn’t sure if breeding with Mai in either of his forms was possible, or if she would want such a thing. Maybe spawning young with a monster would be too twisted a concept for her to bear. So he locked the dream away quietly, and determined never to mention it.
He visited the lagoon again, for a cautious look at the monsters, but they were gone. Rake did not know if they’d been herded and driven away, or killed somehow by the Magnate’s men. Terrifying as the beasts were, he hoped they had survived.
In the evenings, he and Mai still smiled at each other in the pub or the inn common room, but he was busy with training and hunting, while she spent her days at the university. She ate dinner with everyone and then studied for hours afterward, or so he suspected by the light shining under her bedroom door late at night.
They had agreed to be gentle with each other. She had said she might not desire the lovemaking again for a long time, and he knew what it was to be forced into a mating he did not want. So he did not pursue her. But he ached inside, craving her touch again—and her bright smile, and her words.
The day before the Brawl, Rake sat down with Flay, Jazadri, and a few of the older crew, and they had discussed what he’d witnessed in the Entity’s memories. Rake’s kind had excellent recollection, and he could recall everything the Entity had shared, from brief scraps to longer fragments. He remembered there was a geyser bed near the spot, and an odd spiral-shaped reef not far away—two landmarks that would not have changed significantly, even during a hundred years—things that sailors, too, would have some knowledge of.
Rake knew in his bones that he could find the place himself, navigating beneath the water—but Flay and the crew needed a way to navigate above the surface.
On a map Rake marked, as clearly as he could, the underwater mountain ranges and reefs, the glimpses of surface landmarks, stars, and islands he’d gotten from the Entity, as it had traveled from its first point of emergence to its decades-long resting place. Then Flay marked the spot where they’d found the great Entity, and the location of Kiken Island, and the spot where the Horror had lived for so long in its trench.
Piece by piece, taking into account the shifting of tides and stars, drawing lines from point to point, the group of them finally identified the spot where the ruined cities must be.
“I’ve never heard of anything there.” Flay leaned back and locked his fingers behind his head. “No islands—at least none that are inhabited.”
“But I know of the geyser fields, and the reefs nearby,” said an older sailor. “Could be the city ruins have been mistaken for reefs by them as didn’t know no better. And could be the ruins on land look more like rocks than buildings from a distance, after all this time.”
“Could be.” Flay nodded.
“So we’re going?” Rake asked, trying to control the eagerness in his tone.
“You have to survive tomorrow first,” Flay said. “And I won’t lie, Goldfish—this is a fair distance to voyage. We’re still in storm season, but lucky for us this route seems to avoid the parts of the ocean where hurricanes usually form. And it’s on the way to Meroa, a favorite port of mine. I can’t promise a long stop, but we’ll try to make it there. If we place high in the rankings tomorrow, I’ll owe you this.”
After the discussion, Rake went to the warehouse to practice some of the moves Jazadri had taught him. Panic buzzed along his bones whenever he thought of the brutal battles he’d have to fight the next day, and physical activity seemed to help.
Once he’d exercised a while, he climbed into the saltwater tank and soaked for a long time. He half-hoped Mai would come, but he knew she would not. The distance between them had widened since the Hunt, and he did not know how to cross it.
He floated face-up, eyes closed, his gills opening and closing rhythmically.
Something poked his chest.
Blinking, he resurfaced, and found Mai staring at him with a guilty smile. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought you were asleep.”
“So you decided to wake me?”
“Yes?” She winced apologetically, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I’ve decided I’m done with it. I need to know why.” She sucked in a deep breath, as though bracing herself. “Was it not good for you? Because you can tell me if it wasn’t, and I can do something different. Or—or we don’t ever have to do that again, if you’ll only talk with me like we used to. I miss you. You’re the only one who really listens.”
The joy of hearing her chatter sank deep into Rake’s chest. But he wouldn’t let himself smile, not yet, not until she had finished with everything she had to say.
“And if it’s because of the kiss with Feral—if you found out about that somehow—you need to know thathekissed me.” She raised both eyebrows this time. “I didn’t want it. I told him I wasn’t his.”
Rake had not heard about the kiss. A dark, angry heat coiled inside him at the thought of Feral kissing Mai. And then he realized, with a bolt of guilt, how Flay must have felt when Kestra told him she’d kissed Rake.
He should never have requested that of Kestra. He realized that now. Kisses with humans did not involve the biting of tongues or the laceration of lips. They had a gentler meaning. Sometimes they formed invisible bonds that could not be severed without pain.
Mai was still speaking, but Rake seized her shoulders and dragged her against the saltwater tank, sealing his mouth over hers. Her lips were dry, and his were wet, and the salty taste of the water swam through both their mouths as their tongues met. He would not allow her tiny soft tongue to venture into his mouth of fangs, but he lapped into hers tenderly. And then they kissed again, lips closed, pressing firmly. A ripple of arousal ran through him.
Mai broke the kiss and smiled, her face flushed. He had a momentary impulse to bite her pretty cheeks, but he quelled it easily this time. Perhaps hunting in the ocean kept that side of him contained. He would have to continue that, if it meant she was safer with him. But he would be wise and careful in his selection of prey—not greedy and wasteful like the mermaids of Kiken Island.
“Why did you stay away?” Mai asked.
“I thought you wanted me to. You were busy at the university.”
“I left the light on in my room, every night.”
