Drown Another Day Page 11

  “Charmed, as always. Come and sit down by me. We should talk,” she said.

  “Another time.”

  “Oh, don’t be so cold. Sit.”

  My body obeyed without my consent. The eyes of a hundred Mermen rested on me.

  “What do you want?” I demanded.

  Nerine laughed at that. “Oh, I love it when they try to resist, but you know, Mortal men are just so easy, it’s almost like a little game. Ulysses couldn’t resist the charm, what makes you think a nobody like you can surpass a hero like him?”

  My legs shook as I poured all my will into them. Rising up from the fountain side seat, I stood on uncertain footing and took a step away.

  “Alright, I won’t keep you, Charles. If you really are busy we can talk later,” Nerine said with a shrug. “But before you go, I have just one question for you.”

  I froze once again.

  “And what question would that be?” I asked.

  Nerine grinned. “Is that a certain pair of books in your pocket? Or are you just glad to see me?”

  Tridents tipped in poisonous coral pointed at me. The Mermen, clad in robes and bronze bangles circled around me like sharks.

  “Hand over the books, won’t you kindly?” Nereine asked, licking her carnivorous teeth.

  Shit. The jig was up.

  Trapped. Outnumbered. Outmatched. I was screwed beyond salvation. I held my hands up, desperately trying to think of a way out.

  The sudden crash of glass followed by the crunch of stone tiles caught me by surprise. Before I knew what happened, the Merman closest to strike me got crushed by an immense shape.

  Needle like fangs, wide eyes squinting even in the too bright moonlight, I recognized the Dagonian by the cuts on his shoulders. He got them trying to cram himself into an elevator.

  “Wimbleton?”

  From up above, pulley lines fell and armed and armored Hybrids roped down from above guns blazing. The Mermen quickly returned fire, and before I knew it, I was in the middle of a war zone.

  Couldn’t wait to see the Egomancers try to deal with the fallout from this one.

  “Locke. You have both books? You must run. Run!” Wimbleton called out.

  Above the din and wail of battle, I could hear only one thing crystal clear. Nerine’s melodic laughter.

  “Is that what you think is going to happen, bottom feeder?” she asked. “Then you are sorely mistaken. Kneel!”

  Like puppets with strings cut, every single person in the grand hall suddenly tripped and fell down onto their knees. Me, Wimbleton, the Hybrids, even all the Mermen.

  As I knelt helplessly at the Siren’s command, I saw her draw a sharp bronze knife from the folds of her dress. The battle was over. The slaughter was about to begin.

  “I hate it when it comes to this. Really, I do, Charles Locke,” Nerine said. Her skin crawled with goosebumps. Her nose seemed longer and her legs thinner somehow. Her feather-like hair had become hair-like feathers.

  “So that’s why you didn’t use it on me,” I managed between trembling lips. “Great power, but you don’t get to choose who is affected by it.”

  “Right in one, sailor boy. Now I get to do the dirty work myself. I hate it. It’s boring. It’s dull. You hear me you black eyed exile?!”

  Nerine slammed the pommel of her dagger into Wimbleton’s immense eyes again and again until his face was covered in murky blood and the Siren was panting for air.

  “That said, I will certainly enjoy killing a few of you. Two to be precise,” Nerine said, before dragging the knife along Wimbleton’s throat.

  The Dagonian gurgled, clutched weakly at his throat, before falling down and going perfectly still.

  “That’s one. Now for the real pain. The excruciating annoyance beyond all annoyances,”

  “Me,” I supplied.

  Nerine smirked cruelly. “Yes. But before I kill you, I want you to know something. Your friends and family, co workers and comrades in Nine Towers? We’ve hit every major safe house from here to Rome tonight. Eighty heads collected so far. Not including you warlocks, of course.”

  My blood froze in my veins. My heart leaped into my throat. “You’re lying.”

  Nerine tsked me. “Poor sailor boy. You should know by now that I’ve got no reason to lie to you. Let me put this another way though so that you can appreciate the full calamity we’ve wrought.”

  Bending down next to me, Nerine brushed a stray lock of hair from my ear and whispered, “You. Nine Towers. Those cute little alliances of Supernaturals. It’s all over. A new golden age is coming for us, little man, and your grave is going to be nothing but cobblestone beneath our sandals.”

  Chapter 32

  Nerines’ hair-like feathers bristled in triumph. She sank a claw into my shoulder and tossed me onto the hard marble floor. No Dagonian stirred. No Mermen either. We were all at her complete mercy.

  “It wouldn’t be right to just slit your throat,” the Siren said, humming playfully. “You don’t slit the throat of someone who manages to slay a Scylla.”

  I thought the snake beast got away. Maybe dropping a building on it was enough to give it a fatal wound if not instantly kill it?

  “I’m flattered. Really.” I said, going along with it. “So what are you going to do then? My skin is tingling in anticipation.”

  Dipping the blade she’d used to kill Wimbleton in the fountain, Nerine smiled at me, raised the dagger up to chest height and then simply said, “You, over there, with the missing fin. Why don’t you come over here?”

  I was confused for a moment, before someone stirred from behind Nerine. Another of the large Dagonians got up to his feet like a stilted puppet. His grotesque face was scrunched up in resistance, but his body refused to obey. With little half steps, he walked closer and closer to the Siren.

  Dagger poised between her and the immense fish man, the Dagonian was compelled to carry on his fatal path to her. It ended with the fish man impaling himself on her dagger. With a wet sopping slump, the Dagonian fell into a crumple heap.

  “What a nice, ugly, disgusting exile that one was. It’s more fun to have you all kill yourself than inconvenience me, isn’t it? And all it takes is a polite word.”

  One glance at me, and the Siren grinned. “Oh, I love that look. Those eyes so full of impotent rage. Perfect. So then, Charles Locke, Warlock of Nine Towers. Why don’t you come over here and embrace me. I’m just so cold in this night air.”

  Panic surged through me as my body pushed itself onto unsteady feet. Just like the powerless Dagonian, I shambled my way towards the Siren step by agonizing step.

  “See? We Olympians have been at this whole man-killing business a lot longer than most. It’s not even fair,” she said, chuckling under her breath. “So what are you waiting for? Dash yourself on the rocks, sailor boy.”

  Another step towards her. My muscles strained and my mind ached. Every step forward was pure sexual ecstasy. Every thought of disobedience was absolute torture.

  “Good. Just a few more. Come.”

  As she commanded me anew, I noticed something peculiar. It was almost like she was straining. Her voice was louder. Her unnaturally pretty face tense compared to when she killed the Dagonians.

  I drew in a deep breath, and pushed my body backwards until my weight was on my heels.

  “I love it when they resist. How long can you keep it up, I wonder?”

  Her feathery hair stood on end. Her eyes pierced into me, and yet, I felt more in control than ever. I started fighting back harder and harder.

  “Come on you stupid Mortal! Do it! Die!” she screamed.

  Another step forward, and the cold tip of her dagger pierced just past my skin. Pain thrilled through me, but so did recognition.

  This feeling of being pulled by an overwhelming primal desire was familiar to me. I’d felt it before. Day after day, at stronger and stronger intensities. Especially recently.

  Lisistrathiel. She’d made temptation completely commonplace for
me. It was banal. An everyday occurrence. I’d been the play thing of an Infernal Adversary! And compared to Lis, Nerine was little more than a lumbering novice.

  My confidence surged, my defiance flared.

  I arched my spine backwards, drew in a deep breath, and took a step back. Then another. And another. Speechless, the Siren watched as I stood my ground, raised my hand, and lifted my middle finger way up high.

  “Why don’t you come and kill me yourself, bitch?”

  Did that one liner make Nerine fly into a Supernatural rage? Yes. Did she scream like an eagle and cut up my favorite suit? Of course. Did I most likely sign my own slow messy torturous death warrant by pissing off the mythical master seducer? Most likely. Was it all worth it?

  Hell yes.

  By the time she was done wailing on me, her breath was ragged. Much like my flesh. I had about a million separate cuts on me. Hands soaked in my blood, the Siren dragged me by the hair to the fountain centerpiece and flung me into the pool.

  “You’ve really done it now. I’m going to watch the breath leave your throat. Do me a favor Charles Locke. Hold still.”

  My muscles tensed up, and as they did, Nerine pushed my head under water. I couldn’t even flail as I held my breath as long as I could.

  Unfortunately, I was never very good at holding my breath. As my lungs were about to burst, I let my breath go. All out of oxygen. No one would come to save me now. It was all over.

  Now darkness would ebb into me. My eyes would flutter shut, and I would die. My soul would go straight to Hell and I’d get to be tortured by a Devil, most likely Lis, for the rest of eternity.

  …Any second now.

  “Bye bye, sailor boy,” Nerine said, gave me one final push into the water for good measure, and then left.

  Of course, I’d imagined something like that would happen. The Siren would gloat and then go about finishing off the Dagonians one by one. However, someone must have made a great big cosmic mistake somewhere.

  Someway, somehow, I was still very much alive.

  Chapter 33

  Time had flown by so fast that I’d completely forgotten about it. Of course! Philetos Swanquill, Lord Demonologist of Nine Towers, had snuck a little magic item to me on the sly.

  The ring of water breathing.

  The Siren’s spell fled my muscles. Her voice muted and ineffectual through the layers of water. No wand. No gun. But right now, I realized that I had a more than a once in a lifetime opportunity.

  I focused magic into my hand. Incredibly hard without a focus like my beloved wand. Slowly and carefully, I poured all my will into the ball of violet magic, then, in a flurry of motion, I shot out of the fountain, raised my hand and hit Nerine with my last, desperate gamble.

  The sound of splashing water and pierced flesh filled the air. Both the Mermen, secured in their victory, and the Dagonians certain of defeat, stared in awe.

  The shard of hard arcana had found it’s mark, piercing into Nerine’s back and jutting out the front. She turned in horror to stare at me, before falling over like an axed tree.

  Exactly one second later her seductive spell failed. All Hell broke loose.

  Guns fired, metal clanged, and Dagonian and Merman voices roared as a massive pitched battle broke out. The Dagonians had the upper hand, but the Mermen had numbers on their side. I was nearly rushed by half a dozen of them before a pair of Hybrids gunned them down.

  “Withdraw pattern Nautilus!” cried one of the Hybrids into his comm.

  “Protect the books, agent. If you save those, you will save us all. Go!” shouted the other, just before being swarmed by trident wielding Mermen screaming in outrage.

  Good advice. The way to the nearest emergency exit was completely neglected by the Olympians. I was long gone and into the canal streets of Venice by the time any of the Mermen bothered asking where the books had gone.

  Just because I narrowly avoided dead for now didn’t mean that things were going to carry on in such a way. I was bleeding badly. Every damn second cousin of Neptune managed to leave a mark on me tonight, and you never really read in the Odyssey about the after effects of a Siren’s songs either.

  I had more than a foot in the grave now. And it felt like I hadn’t had sex in a million years too. I pushed that last thought to the back of my head. I needed a hide out and some bandages, and I needed them fast.

  As I dizzily scanned my surroundings for such a place, I noticed the streets were familiar to me. Somehow, I’d stumbled into the alley in which Phil had sicced his Demon on me. That meant--

  “The hotel. Perfect.”

  I found the quaint little place right where I’d left it and barged in like a drunkard. Good. A little drinking is easier to explain than being attacked by a Siren while attempting to diffuse an underwater world war in the making.

  “Room for the night please. My name is--” I said.

  The girl at the desk looked surprised. “I remember you. The room’s still yours. Two oh eight, remember? Uh, you okay?”

  It took every last fragment of my willpower to not ask her up to my room. I nodded my thanks instead and did my best zombie impression clambering up the cramped stairs.

  I didn’t even have the power to shut the door after me. All I could do was barge into the room and take off my ruined coat, my shredded shirt, and then my minced Kevlar. I let out a low whistle as I looked at my chest.

  Cuts everywhere. Hell hath no fury like that of a Siren scorned.

  I smiled despite the pain. The good news was, none of them looked very deep. I’ll be sure to give my Kevlar a proper funeral for doing it’s duty.

  The pain it seems, mostly came from Nerine’s magic. I was in agony, beyond the furthest scope of aroused, and my muscles were twitching in aftershock to boot.

  “Close the door, sleep it off. Fish wars tomorrow,” I told myself through clenched teeth.

  With a groan I pushed myself up from the bed to do just that when I heard something that froze the blood in my veins. I heard the door’s lock click shut. Turning slowly, fearfully, I saw my doom. She was wearing hot pink, nearly see-through negligee and a smile that practically split her face in half.

  “Oh no,” I whispered.

  “Oh yes,” Lis replied.

  Chapter 34

  Soaked in a cold sweat, my beaten body was too weak to do more than watch as Lisistrathiel prowled towards me with slow, deliberate steps. Her sharp, black toe nails clacked on the hardwood floor, and the grin on her face sent thrills up my spine.

  “You know, Charlie, there’s a lot to be said about a nice straight forward plan once in a while.”

  “No. God damn you,” I cursed. Not now. Not like this. I was almost home free.

  Lis grinned, “A smooth ambush at the worst possible time is sometimes more effective than a really elaborate trick. Good things come to those who wait, don’t you know.”

  She had me, but if I played my cards right, I might just live to see tomorrow. I mustered my wits and shot her my best glare.

  “What’s with the pouting, Charlie?” Lis asked, stopping mere inches away from my face. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about before when I was all ‘the Angel of Death can’t be real’ or something.”

  “Go to Hell,” I replied, shifting my gaze away from her body. “I know what I damn well saw.”

  “If you’re waiting for an apology from me you’re going to be sorely disappointed, Charles Montgomery Locke. I’m not the type of gal who apologizes easily. Or in a straightforward way for that matter,” she said, ending with a chuckle.

  My body thrilled at her closeness. The heady scent of apple shampoo teased my nose. I was one word of encouragement away from throwing my Humanity to the wind, partaking in the forbidden fruit with the Devil before me, and losing it all.

  Lis was a completely different kettle of fish than the Siren. There was no promise of the wildest one night stand of my life. No Supernatural suggestion, charming, or even mind control. Lis had never used anything a
Mundane woman didn’t have, and somehow that made her all the more irresistible.

  “So then, Charlie, I’m going to hit you with my big guns right off the bat. No point in making you suffer after the horrible night you’ve had, right?” she asked, propping a leg up on the mattress and leaning an inch closer.

  “Do your worst,” I said.

  Lis grinned at that. “If you’re a good little boy and give in to the cardinal sin of Lust, I’ll let you do the one thing you’ve always wanted to do, but never ever told anyone about.”

  “Exorcise you? I’ve told plenty of people,” I retorted.

  “The one thing that’s sat at the back of your brain gnawing at the flood gate of your inhibitions since the day we met.”

  “No such thing. I’m immune to your venom, remember?” I replied.

  What the hell was she talking about? There wasn’t anything I’d obsessed over besides maybe her legs a little bit. But if what she’s talking about is totally subconscious, then I’ll have no way to brace myself. My hairs stood on end, my body shuddered in anticipation.

  “Charlie, I will let you,” she whispered, “Touch. My. Tail.”

  The snap of violin strings echoed in my ears. Cold sweat suddenly dripped down my face.

  You’d barely even notice unless you looked directly at it. And because Lis was in public and therefore in ‘disguise’ so often, she rarely let loose so much as to show off her greatest, most insidious charm point.

  Probably unbeknownst to anyone but me, the she-devil Lisistrathiel owned an impish little tail. It was approximately three feet long, the same deep shade of onyx as her hair, and extremely agile. The tip even ended in a triangular spike, like the tails Devils had in the old cartoons I’d watch as a kid. It was impossible to ignore once noticed.

  “Not interested,” I lied, swallowing my spit. “My thing is for long legs. Tails are… pointless.”

  “You hesitated for a second there, Chuck,” Lis replied gleefully. “What’s wrong Chumbo? Your face is a little bit red around the cheeks. Don’t tell me you were lying when you said my adorab--”