It's like the pirate version of a dick move. Slash the sails and leave 'em high and dry while you sail into the sunset with their precious cargo. I gotta hand it to this Bloodbane guy, he may be a raging asshole, but he knows how to fuck with a ship.
"You good, bro?" I ask as he stands next to me, trying to gauge just how much of a beating he took.
"I endeavored to defend the ship and crew to the best of my abilities," Erik says, his voice all formal and shit, even though he looks like he's about to keel over. "But alas, their numbers were great, and they employed wooden swords, exploiting our inherent weakness."
Well, fuck me sideways with a wooden stake. So now they know what we are and how to take us down. This is so not good. Like, on a scale of one to "we're totally fucked," this is a solid eleven.
I wish Dani and Rhyland would've given me a heads-up about this Bloodbane douche canoe. Hell, even Gideon or Erik could've dropped a hint or two. But fuck no, everyone's gotta be all mysterious and shit, keeping secrets like it's going out of style.
I let out a frustrated growl, running my hands through my hair. "Okay, so we're dealing with a bunch of vampire-savvy pirates who have a hard-on for kidnapping my mate. Fan-fucking-tastic. Any other good news you want to share with the class, Erik?"
Sometimes I wish my stick-up-the-ass brother would just unleash his inner beast and go all Mortal Kombat on douchebags. You know, rip out a spine here, tear off a head there—really embrace that whole "vampire" thing we've got going on.
But nooooo. Erik's gotta be all noble and shit. He is like the Batman of vampires, if Batman had a perpetual case of constipation and a hard-on for honor. I swear, the guy probably irons his cape and alphabetizes his bat-gadgets.
It's like he missed the memo that being a vampire means you get to be a badass. Instead, he's over here trying to win the "Most Honorable Bloodsucker" award.
News flash, bro: that's not a thing!
Erik gives me one of his patented stoic looks that makes you feel like he's staring into your soul and finding it lacking. "I believe our time would be better spentfocusing on the task at hand, Lucian. The sails will not mend themselves, and every moment we tarry is a moment Seraphina remains in peril."
I sigh, knowing he's right. As much as I want to charge off half-cocked and rain down unholy vengeance on these fuckers, we need to be smart about this. We need a plan.
And step one of that plan is getting this fucking ship seaworthy again.
Danica
54
Holy mother of pearl, we've just stumbled into what I can only describe as the long-lost city of Atlantis. I'm talking about an underwater wonderland that would make even King Triton jealous.
We just went through one of those underwater portals—Water Gate—that feels like you're being flushed through interdimensional plumbing, complete with swirling water and the distinct feeling that you'll hurl your guts out.
Mirella swam us up through the palace to this opening, and suddenly, we're all standing again and breathing air like a bunch of land-dwellers at a mermaid convention.
As I take in the breathtaking surroundings, my eyes can't help but wander over to Mirella. Gone is the shimmering tail that made her look like a mermaid princess, replaced by a pair of legs that seem to go on for days.
It's not just the legs that catch my attention. No, the sporadic mermaid scales barely cover the goodie areas—much like Calypso's—leaving just enough to the imagination. The scales are a beautiful, shimmering turquoise, the same mesmerizing hue as her tail when she had it. It's like she's taken a piece of the ocean with her, even in human form.
But holy shit, this place is unreal. The walls are made of this shimmering mother-of-pearl that seems to change color with every light shift, going from a deep, mesmerizing blue to a dazzling, golden hue. And the ceilings? They're so high that you could fit a whole pod of whales here without grazing a fin.
Everywhere I look, there are these incredible statues of merfolk and sea creatures, each so lifelike that I half expect them to start swimming around and asking for directions to the nearest coral reef. Some are made of this gleaming, polished stonethat looks like it was carved straight from the ocean floor, while others are inlaid with precious gems and metals that glitter like a treasure hoard.
The floors are an intricate mosaic of blues and gold, with patterns that swirl and twist like ocean currents.
But the real showstopper is the massive, ornate fountain in the center of the room. It's made of shimmering, iridescent crystal that seems to glow from within, casting a soft, ethereal light over everything, making it feel magical.
I glance at Rhyland, wondering if he's as blown away as I am. From the look on his face, I'd say he's pretty damn close to picking his jaw up off the floor. And honestly, I can't blame him.
Mirella guides us to the dining area; my eyes widen at the sight before me. The table is a veritable feast fit for Poseidon himself, overflowing with an array of seafood delicacies that make my mouth water and my stomach growl.
Succulent crab legs, their vibrant red shells, are piled high on silver platters. Whole fish, their scales gleaming in the light, are artfully arranged alongside mountains of plump, juicy mussels and clams. There are dishes I can't even begin to identify, but they all look plucked straight from the pages of a gourmet underwater cookbook.
My stomach lets out a rumble that could rival a whale's mating call, reminding me that I haven't had a decent meal in the last twenty-four hours. I've been substituting on a diet of stress, adrenaline, and the occasional swig of seawater, and my body is staging a mutiny.
"You must be hungry. Please, help yourselves," Mirella offers, gesturing to the bountiful spread. "We will meet with the queen shortly."
I don't need to be told twice. I dive for the table, piling my plate high.
