“Probably not,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because it is not a creature of flesh and bone,” I explain, my patience wearing thin. The wind whips my coat around my legs. “It is an elemental force. You cannot kill the tide, slayer; you can only break its form long enough to make it regret surfacing.”
She scowls, gripping her hilt tighter. “That sounds like semantics. If I chop it into enough pieces, it usually stops moving.”
“And if you try to chop water, you will only drown,” I counter.
“He has a point,” Voren adds. “It’s like trying to fight fog. Tedious and damp.”
“More damp,” she mutters.
Dastian steps up to the edge of the dock, balancing on the balls of his feet like a child daring the waves to catchhim. “Less talking, more provoking. Come and get us!” He shouts at the churning water, sending a bolt of chaotic, crackling red energy straight into the dark patch beneath the surface.
The ocean responds instantly. The water erupts into a towering pillar of sludge, foam, and seaweed, which coalesces into a vague, humanoid shape. It possesses no eyes, only a gaping maw of swirling water that screams with the sound of a thousand drowning sailors.
Nyssa takes a step back, her bravado faltering for a split second before she steels herself. I move closer to her, letting my shadows curl protectively around her. She scowls, but I challenge her with a stare that makes her back down. I will protect her, even as I throw her to the waves.
Nyssa moves faster than I anticipate. She sprints across the slick concrete, launching herself into the air with that recklessness I am caught between despising and craving. Her blade flashes as she drives it into the thickest part of the creature’s mass.
It shrieks, the sound shattering the windows in the nearby warehouse. Water explodes outward, drenching her and Dastian in a flood of icy water.
“Did I get it?” she pants, wiping water from her eyes.
“You annoyed it,” I say, as the water churns violently, reforming bigger than before. “It’s not ready to retreat yet.”
“Great,” she mutters and starts hacking away at the Tidewraith like she expects it to fall into bits and pieces around her.
I shake my head. There is no point, just no fucking point in talking to her.
The Tidewraith looms over her, a massive fist of compressed water and sludge raising high, blotting out the grey sky. She braces herself, preparing to block a blow thatwill undoubtedly shatter every bone in her mortal body, regardless of whatever upgrade she has been given.
I flick my wrist. The shadows beneath the monster surge upward, solidifying into jagged spikes that pierce the watery limb just as it swings down. The creature roars, the sound wet and gurgling, as its arm dissolves into harmless rain before it can connect with Nyssa’s skull.
The wind whips my coat, but the shadows keep me anchored. The Tidewraith hesitates when it senses me coming. It was focused on Nyssa, the weak link. Now, it’s thinking twice. But the fact of the matter is, I can’t kill this thing. None of us can. We can only show a collective force to make it think twice about returning.
The shadows on the dock rear up, consuming the available light until they form a titan of darkness that mimics the Tidewraith’s size but possesses infinitely more malice. It’s a bluff, mostly, a projection of dominance, but elementals are instinctual creatures. They know when they are outmatched.
The Tidewraith recoils as we come together on the dock, magic and blades flashing. With a final, gurgling roar of frustration, it loses its nerve. The towering shape collapses, dissolving back into the churning grey waves with a splash that soaks us a second time.
“See?” I murmur, the shadows retreating into my coat. “Stronger together.”
Her gaze meets mine, and for the first time since I laid eyes on her, she falls in line with a swift nod. “Stronger together.”
“You’ve stopped fighting us,” I point out.
“Look,” she says, blowing out a breath. “I can’t fight you three and all the beasties that are attacking my village. None of you has given me a reason to kill you. Yet. Despitebeing gods from a realm that my ancestors deemed a threat enough to lock you all in centuries ago. That can change in a heartbeat, so don’t test me.” She moves closer to me, raising her weapon to press the tip under my chin.
My cock goes hard at the threat.
“But if you give me one reason, half a fucking reason, even, I will gut you like a fish on Friday. Clear?”
I glower down at her and lift my hand to move the tip of the curved blade away from my throat. “Clear.”
“I was made to kill you,” she whispers, almost to herself.
She lowers the blade, but the fire in her eyes doesn’t dim. It smoulders, promising violence if I step out of line. I can respect that. I can crave it.
