Page 76 of The Demons in the Deep: Extended Edition
“Now Father, you know very well I cannot keep fetching youasthoreunless my ship is fully protected,” Flay purred.
“Because of the mermaids, you say. The ravenous half-women, half-fish you claim surround this island where theasthoreis found.” The Magnate scoffed. “Tell me, boy, are all your mer-people as tame as that one? Perhaps you do not need theasthoreat all.”
“I brought a dead one back to you once,” Flay said. “One of the small ones, who impaled herself on my ship’s spikes. And you’ve heard the tales from my men—all true. Jazadri’s brother fell into the sea and was devoured.”
“It’s true,” Feral drawled, pulling one of his girls onto his lap. “Other captains have witnessed those swarms. The mermaids can tear right through a ship’s hull. No one but our little Flay is foolish enough to venture into those waters.”
The Magnate settled back in his seat with a grunt.
“So it’s agreed,” Flay said brightly. “If I win, I get theasthore. If I lose—”
“Then I get your champion,” said his mother. “Whatever’s left of him after the Brawl.”
“Ah,” said Feral. “Now that is a worthy bet.”
“No.” Mai half-rose from her seat. “You can’t gamble with a person, Flay.”
“I don’t trade in souls and bodies,” Flay told his mother evenly.
“Of course not, because you’re so much better than the rest of us,” she sneered. “You’re a little gull-shit, a coward with no stomach for a bold bargain.”
Kestra felt Flay stiffen. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t let her bait you. You can’t gamble with Rake’s life.”
But Flay was already nodding. “It’s a bet.”
Mai stood up, seething, but Kestra pulled her back down. “He’ll win,” she said. “Flay will win, and Rake will win.”
But her heart sank, because how could they possibly have that much good fortune in one afternoon?
Chairs were pulled back in the box, and servants set up the game table.
“Three games,” Flay said. “Winner of two takes the bet.”
“Done.” His mother smirked. “And I know you can’t use any sleight-of-hand like you used to, darling, because you’ve got just one now.”
And she laughed as if she’d made the best joke in the world.
Kestra had only felt such hot hatred once before, when Queen Acrid bit off Flay’s hand. If she had her kitchen knives, she would gladly end that sneering woman’s life.
Flay lost the first game quickly—so quickly Kestra’s heart sickened.
The second game dragged on so long that before its end, Rake was back in the arena for his second match.
This time he faced a man who was half-serpent, from some faraway southern continent. The snake-man moved with blinding speed, streaking along the sand. He slashed open Rake’s shoulder and carved claw-marks along his waist, right above the belt. And then he struck, coiling his thick body around Rake’s torso, tightening, tightening, while his forked tongue slithered between his fangs.
Rake strained, gripping the snake-man’s neck with one hand to hold off the fangs. But the coils constricted again, and Rake roared with pain.
Mai held onto Kestra’s arm so tightly it hurt.
Dimly Kestra registered Flay’s voice: “I have you beaten, Mother. It’s one to one now. Last game.”
But Kestra couldn’t look toward her captain, because her eyes were locked on Rake. On his lower jaw, stretching, unhinging, inhuman—on the rows of teeth glittering in his cavernous mouth. He shrieked, horrifically inhuman, a keening, piercing death-cry.
Startled, the snake-man hesitated. And Rake lunged.
His jaws clamped around the snake-man’s throat, then ripped away, blood spurting in their wake.
The coils went loose around Rake’s body, and he rose, tall and magnificent, his face and throat slicked crimson.
