Bile rushes up my throat as the fisherman comes running out, blood staining every crevice of his face. Stumbling and tripping over the turf, I barely manage to catch him before he hits the ground.
“H-He’s here.”
My stomach lurches when I realize one of his eyeballs is missing.
“Who’s here?”
Sobs ring out as the unfortunate soul claws at his empty socket, the missing orb nowhere to be found. Tendons and torn tissue hang from the open cavity, and with every pass of his fingers, the man screams a little bit louder.
“Just breathe, mate. We’re going to get you out of here...”
Swivelling my head, I can just make out the silhouette of my other crew members hightailing it out of here.
“Wait. Where’s Finley?”
“H-He got him.”
Dread unfolds in my gut as I watch a proud man drop to his knees and start to crawl. Covering his open wound with one hand, he starts dragging every tooth and nail towards the taste of freedom.
“We can’t just leave him!”
“Yes, we fucking can!”Hysterical laughter breaks off into more sobbing, “You told us the house was empty.”
“It was supposed to be empty... Wait!”
A bitter wind sweeps through the clearing, breaking a shiver clear from my bones and sending it racing across my body. Blood continues to drip from the balcony, it’s sweet metallic scent a nauseating addition to this evening.
“Do you think he was looking for this?”
Low and amused, the subsequent chuckle has the hair on the back of my neck standing to attention.
Turning around slowly, I look back at the Seaborn Mansion and watch the figure unfold himself from the shadows. The resounding click of dress shoes rings through the night, the man’s steps as sure and smooth as the polished state of his suit.
A hunk of flesh hangs from his fingertips, the glistening edge of his ring wrapping its tentacles around the missing eyeball.
He steps into a ray of moonlight, casting an ethereal halo around the pale strands of his hair. Violet irises glow against the dark sky, the man’s clean cut face surprisingly young for someone with that level of confidence.
Then again, I would be confident too if I was no longer in the grave.
Chapter 23
CHRISTOPHER
A harpoon sounds pretty fucking useful right about now.
Casting a glance up to the balcony, I can still see Fiona’s pointed edge sticking through the gaps in the railing. Vicious sharks tear apart seals and smaller sea creatures in the mural below, the engraving on the marble column a tragic comparison for the situation I find myself in.
“I don’t believe we’ve officially met.”
Pale lips peel back slowly, showcasing a set of teeth that ought to be stored in a museum somewhere.
“Marlin Seaborn, although I would have hoped you’d have that figured out by now.”
I watch him wander closer, his size growing with every step. By the time he comes to a stop in front of me, I have to crane my neck back to look at him.
I’m not small by any means, but this guy makes me look like a fucking doll.
“You’re the Sea Witch’s son.”
