She let out a low chuckle, her voice thick with syrup and shadow. "Mm-mm. You know better’n most, Cap’taine—I don’t deal in no coin. I trade in what’s real—blood."
Séraphine’s contrasting eyes flickered toward Nerina. "Hers."
Nerina’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Why?"
Séraphine tilted her head, a slow grin curling her lips. "Power hang on ya like fog on mornin’. I gotta know why. Just a lil’ vial o’ your blood, that’s all. A taste, nothin’ more."
I stepped forward before Nerina could speak, planting myself between her and the threat like a wall made of bone and fury.
“Take mine,” I said, stepping forward. “Vampire blood carries weight. You know that.”
Séraphine didn’t even look at me. Her attention stayed on Nerina—focused, intent, almost reverent.
“Oh, I know exactly what your blood worth, Cap’taine,” she said softly. “I done tasted hunger. Curses. Monsters. Men.”
Her mismatched eyes glanced my way. “Yours sings,” she continued. “But hers?”
Her attention returned to Nerina, narrowing. “Hers don’t sing at all.”
The room stilled. “It listens.”
She turned back to Nerina, eyes glinting like broken glass, voice laced with a slow drawl. "It’s your blood I need, or we ain’t got no deal."
Nerina hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Take it."
I shifted without thinking, stepping in front of her, shielding her from something I couldn’t name but felt in my bones. A cold dread slid down my spine, sudden and familiar. My stomach plummeted, not just from fear—but from the instinct, the demand, to protect her. To keep her safe. “No,” I said, voice low, tense. “You don’t owe her a damn thing.”
She stepped in front of me, her expression steady. “If this is the price for the Eye, then I will pay it. I have to pay it.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw, frustration burning in my eyes, but I could see she would not be swayed.
"Damn it all, this isn’t a game. You don’t know what giving her your blood will mean."
Séraphine merely watched, and I couldn’t shake the weight of what lingered in her words. Blood magic was no parlor trick. It was ancient, binding, sacred—and dangerous. I’d seen what it could do, what it could take.
Séraphine let out a throaty laugh. "She don’t belong to you—don’t belong tono one. That girl can make her own decisions."
She reached for her blade, the motion slow, deliberate. My mind flickered with the unease of déjà vu, of promises broken and truths left unspoken.
The candlelight glinted off the edge of the steel as she extended her free hand toward Nerina. "Your palm."
Nerina swallowed hard but did not waver. She raised her hand, placing it in Séraphine’s waiting grasp. She ran a thumb across her skin, feeling the hum of something beneath the surface, before drawing the blade in a swift, clean slice.
Nerina flinched, a strained breath escaping her as the cut bloomed against her pale skin—and in that instant, her crescent mark flared with a sudden, searing light. I tensed beside her, fists clenched at my sides, every muscle wound tight, resisting the urge to pull her away. I could barely stand to see her in pain, especially when it hurt enough to trigger whatever magic pulsed beneath her skin.
But then—before a single drop could fall—the wound closed.
The skin knit itself back together, the blood retreating, vanishing as though it had never been shed.
Séraphine’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her normally unreadable face. For the first time since we had stepped into her domain, true intrigue stirred in her expression. She lifted Nerina’s hand again, turning it over, expecting to see some lingering sign of the wound. But there was nothing—not even the faintest scar.
Her lips parted. “Well now…” she murmured, the words thick with wonder and that old Shadeau drawl.
Then she looked at me, her eyes glinting like coals stoked too long. “An’ you say she jus’ a lil mermaid?”
Séraphine was right. Mermaids needed water to heal—and even then, it wasn’tthatquick.
Nerina flexed her fingers testing them, her own eyes wide with confusion as she looked at me. "Wh—how did it do that?" she whispered.
