The Kiss That Saved Me (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 2) (11 page)

SOLUSTUS

It trembles. I can hear the susurrations of its blood, coursing in frantic folly around its spindled skeleton. I raise my rapier, my beautiful Scarlette, so named for the litres of blood she has spilled, the marks she has left on another, her long slender length sharper than the wit of any woman I’ve ever known. The seahorse, pitiful creature that it is, moves again as I block its path, the power of Scarlette exerting itself over its meaningless existence. I could kill it, but that would be too easy. Torture, pain, stamina; those are the real challenges. My tail is cocked over the edge of the throne in which I sit, a throne of death, a throne of bone. More comfortable than you might think, especially when one drapes themselves across it like a relished victory flag. I look out over the room, surveying all it holds, blackness, roughness, the structure having been formed out of the sea’s hot rage. It’s fuming tumult and carnivorous appetite. The floor is scattered with the remains of things once alive and the walls are clad with calcified teeth that snag and tear. I look up into the darkness and recall once more a time in which I stared up into a different darkness, into hopelessness.

The stars blink out one by one, extinguished, dead already. I am cold and the floor is hard. My ankle is swollen and so is my eye. It hurts so much and is weeping plasma. I hear something stir in the next room. It’s him. My brother lies in the corner, red hair muddy with dirt and dust, sleeping, whimpering as nightmares tear at him. I don’t sleep anymore, or at least I try not to, I learned that trick long ago. I hear the thud, the metal tankard fall to the floor and spill its precious nectar and the reactive cuss words, travelling through the wood of the door. I tremble, cornered by thick stone walls that chill my emaciated body to the bone. I stretch out my hands, I can see the veins ebbing beneath my translucent skin. I hear the sound of his heavy tread come louder, like that of an ancient monster of myth. I watch the light under the door disappear and hear the keys jangle on their iron chain. The familiar eerie wail of the door hinges as they complain under the friction of heavy wood. The light falls on me in a sheet, laying me bare to his scrutiny. My father stands in the doorway, tall as a mountain and thick as an oak, immovable and terrifying, his balding head dripping with sweat, with taboo need.
 

“Get up boy. I need you… now.”

No! I snap, sitting bolt upright across the throne. Enough is enough. I comfort myself, remembering the look on the old man’s face when I returned with the power of Poseidon behind me, the terror that filled his eyes as I tore out his throat and let the blood run down me like holy water, a purifying entity. I hated him, but he had made me what I was today, impenetrable. He had let them take my younger brother, let them hang him after months of leaving him tied to a bed in a straw hut on the edge of the village with no food or water. Possessed they had said, but I knew different. I knew my father’s torment had left him mad. He had already killed our oldest brother in a drunken stupor, a glass bottle to the throat for his eldest, who was ready to wed. I had gotten out, charging the wooden door when he was at his most intoxicated once I was old enough, but I couldn’t save Caedes. I was the only one left to get revenge for all three of us. I was the one who had sunk my teeth into my brother who had risen a mer, but still quite mad. I saved him from the judgement of those who did not understand. I did what needed to be done.
 

It catches the corner of my eye, glinting, heavy with mystery and power. The Scythe of Atargatis, the thing that had left me trapped, waiting for the opportune moment once more. I look at its length, not a particularly powerful weapon to behold, but then this was not like Titus’ trident, which stands next to the scythe. He had rarely used it, who needs a weapon when you personally qualify.

I think of his pathetic attempt to raise a power like the Necrimad, my lip curling upward,
what a fool.
All that power and not enough control over his rage to see through the poor acting skills of Azure. I will not make that mistake. I will not be blinded by rage. I am fuelled by something far more powerful. Hate and the love of the one person I know should be ruling these godforsaken depths: Me. I am glad, of course, that Azure was stupid enough to cross the likes of Titus. Without her I never could have performed the role I had been waiting centuries for: supplantor.

I move over to the window, slicing through the water and sucking it down my gullet, sniffing it like an opiate gas. I wonder what it must be like, getting high and communing with the Necrimad, I feel anger rise at my impotence. I suppose I will never know. It bothers me, crawling beneath my skin like scarabs, my inability to communicate with the beast. I reach the window and survey the shadowy beauty of my Kingdom under the clouds of pulse electricity, jellyfish swarming like a thick layer of neon above the crushed bone and dust of the streets. I look over the Cryptopolis. It is mine, all mine, but it is too small. I want the high shard of the Alcazar Oceania above me, I want to sit in the throne room, the mer at my fin, terror running behind a heady aura of respect and love for yours truly. Below the army teems, seethes like scum and I feel joy bubble up within me, the number of bodies exciting me at the thought of each of their glorious sacrifices. A sacrifice so I, their King, can cast my shadow on their bones as I pass over them and rise to my rightful place. Their lives will slip from them, bleed out into nothingness.

I turn away from the light, smiling contentedly, looking back over the scythe. I run my hand through my slick hair slowly, feeling my nails bite into my scalp as my forehead furrows. I have obstacles, of course, between the Necrimad and myself, between ultimate power and myself. I need to find out more, know more about the scythe in order to possess it fully.
 
I am sure, sure it can be mine. I run my tongue over the points of my teeth, feeling the jagged serrations pulling across the flesh of my tongue, releasing the blood into my mouth like syrup, thick and sweet.

The scythe glints in the light. It’s the key, or should I say the lock. I need to find the key to unlock it, release all that delicious lunar energy that it absorbed. It’s clever to say the least, the Goddess creating a vessel to bind such power within the weapon and prevent it from being used by those who would sacrifice her. That blonde haired, doe eyed harpy. For who would sacrifice a mere child if they were in her service? I muse the predetermined calculations of those who have put us into slavery, running my nails across the skin of my chest, the pain giving me clarity of thought. I am sure there has to be some hoop to jump through, some insanely cliché condition, a next step to unlocking it, something laughable just like happily ever after. I feel my anger simmering, a consistent feature within me at the thought of the Goddess. That bitch. Playing with her chess pieces and manipulating us all. They said Poseidon was bad? At least his appointment of power was honest, he knew he needed those who had suffered, because that’s what we were in for in the service of the Gods: Suffering.
 

I let the shadows fall over me as it flickers in and out of being, like a light on the fritz. I look down at my pale skin and silver scales, the sight of my body both disgusting and arousing me instantaneously. I need to find the key, but when I say I- I mean the fodder that was teeming below. I had ordered them, in my infinite wisdom to raid the chapels, sanctums, temples, and anywhere else we may find a clue to unlocking the power of the scythe. I can’t deny it. I’m stuck. But a man like me is never stuck for long.

The light in the room is scarlet, coating everything in a crimson hue. I can’t tell whether it’s from the blood of the fodder I’ve sliced for their incompetence, or because of the Erenna, trapped and squirming helplessly inside a mesh cage that has been haphazardly strung from the stalactites that hang, broken, from the ceiling. I hear something stir behind me and turn, pulling my rapier beside me. Scarlette vibrates, slicing through the water with deadly vigour.

“It’s only me, Solustus. Relax,” the purring vibrations of Alyssa’s voice penetrate me and I shudder. Her femininity and sexual allure make me sick, the harlot reeks of humanity.

“Alyssa, would you detest not invading one’s personal space unannounced?” I roll my eyes, sheathing Scarlette and she moves forward, the tentacles stemming from her waist pulsing with her momentum.

“Why? Getting naughty were we?” She looks me in the eyes, her black hair trailing across her breasts, the rusty coloured scales look like she’s bleeding, rotting through her pale skin.

“I was looking over your children. They disappoint me,” I say the words disinterested in her already, keeping my sharp features impassive.

“I don’t think it’s your approval they’re craving baby,” she wraps her tentacle around my tail, or attempts to but I flex and slash, moving away from her suckered clutch.

“My approval is what they need. Remember what happened to the last child you brought me who didn’t respect his elders?” I flex my bony fingers, feeling the absence of my rapier.

“I liked Samuel,” she pouts at me and I cock an eyebrow.

“So did Scarlette.” I watch her tentacles undulate where her tail used to reside. The octomaid sends shivers through me, this new breed of psiren quite the perversion of nature. “How is the boy?” I ask her, thinking back to the night I turned him, sunk my teeth into the sinew of his pectoral.

“Darius? He is a fine warrior. He is not one of my babies, but he is a fine warrior none the less.”

“None the less?” I bite out, anger rising.
 

“I didn’t mean…” I cut her apology off, uninterested, unamused. I pull Scarlette up to her gills, imagining widening them into smiling, gaping mouths gasping for air.
 

“He’s more than merely fodder. He knows the girl. He has hurt her, loved her. He may be of use,” I muse aloud, unsure of the reason for allowing her into my thought process.
 

“Of course, your plan was genius… Your Highness.” She bows her head.

Ahh at last, a little respect.
Why are fear and violence the only ways to gain such subservience?
I wonder, irritated.

“I have observed them, your children from above. They are weak. They are divided. We must unite them. I assume you have explained to them our position?” I query her, feeling empowered at the prospect of my army, lowering the sword once again but enjoying its light weight in my palm.

“I have explained to them about the Necrimad, how we need its power to take our rightful place as defenders of the sea. About how the mer live in luxury whilst we live in the darkness, shunned. They are seething with the resentment that I hoped would infect them post indoctrination. It’s easy when they feel so robbed of life, poor babies.” She moves her tentacles, stirring the sand around her, the only remnants of her insolent children.

“They need training, you should have seen them the night Titus perished, they need proper instruction. They need to be strong.”

“Regus would be a suitable candidate,” Alyssa muses and I nod, thinking about the bulk of the half-shark half-man concoction. I hear a crash come from the arched door and turn, a movement so pointed and fluid no man could ever perform it.

“Bloody hell!” The voice is British and coarse. I assume him to be from England. Alyssa’s eyes sparkle.

“Vexus, sweet child, what has happened to you?” She pulls her spawn forward, arms stroking his slender face. He has crashed into the wall, unable to halt in time from the immense speed of his violet and black tentacles. His lavender eyes are slits, his cheeks hollow.

“What is this incompetent doing here? Don’t we have any security?” I bark at Alyssa and Vexus laughs from the very back of this throat.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, I mean the mer don’t seem to give a rats arse. I just walked straight into that coronation you sent me off to… no invitation necessary,” he straightens himself.

“You… went to the coronation?” I look at him surprised, his gall is alarming.

“Yeah. Quite the uh, shindig too. Lots of pretty doilies and… well…the ladies....” He trails off and examines his stubby nails casually. He angers me, does he not know who I am?

“Orion is now Crowned Ruler,” I smile, the child will be out of his depth. This pleases me. I continue, “And the girl? Any other announcements?” I ask him thinking back to the conversation I had held with my brother not one hour ago via the looking glass at my back.
 

“I dunno mate. I got mounted and kicked out by this… spitfire. Seriously… that bird…” His eyes cloud over and I wonder who would be ballsy enough to mount a stranger.

“Was her name Azure by any chance?” I ask him, floating seamlessly within the water stroking my fingers back through my hair again.

“Maybe. Dark hair, yay tall, quite the black beauty,” Vexus muses and I nod.

“Yes. You say she’s still infected with the darkness? How interesting,” I remember her abilities to see the future, the advantage they gave us… it’s tempting… I mentally slap myself. She cannot be trusted. She is too strong willed to be used. Azure was lost to the cause. For now. “Did you find anything?” I ask him, looking into his gaze with an intensity that demands honesty.

“Unfortunately not. The Sanctum seems to be nothing but a fancy bollocks hotel to me. Besides, why would they keep anything of true value there? It’s not like they’re frequent guests.” Vex looks back at me, eyes baring into my face. His retort makes sense, he’s smarter than he appears. It enrages me.
 

“So you’ve failed,” I bait him.

“I prefer to think of it as eliminated another dead avenue, mate,” his reply catalyses a calculated, concisely controlled rise of malice within me. I strike instantaneously, moving my tail with all the muscle it can possesses. I head to hit him head on in the gut, but seconds before contact he moves upward through the water with one mighty contraction of his tentacles, leaving me to smash into the wall.
He used my speed against me,
is all I can think as my face meets with wall in a deafening crunch of impact. I hear him laugh and push myself upward, twisting and corkscrewing through the water as I draw Scarlette once more.