Witches of the Deep (The Memento Mori Series #3)

By his side, Celia stood with her hand clamped over her mouth in horror.

Only Estelle seemed pleased. She cocked her head, a small smile softening her features. “It’s perfect. It will give her the chance to atone for her father’s crimes.”

“A criminal’s daughter?” Granite arched an approving eyebrow. “Sounds like our sort of girl.”

“You’ve got to be joking, Nod,” said his brother. He spoke with the same rough voice, minus the smile. “She won’t last a night. We’re not taking her. We’re taking the stag.”

Apparently, the younger Picaroon didn’t think Fiona good enough tribute for his sea monster. She already hated him.

Clutching the gold nuggets tighter, she gritted her teeth. She’d made up her mind. She didn’t want them to take Thomas, and maybe this was some kind of way out. Hadn’t Cadonia said one or two tributes had lived?

“I’m perfectly strong,” she said. “And I’ll give you gold. Isn’t that what pirates want?”

The one called Lir stared at her, his face a mask of disdain. “What sort of maniac would pay money to come with us?”

One who needs to atone. One who belongs among other monsters. One who’s broken inside, and might kill everyone in their sleep if she’s not stopped. Fiona lifted her shoulders. “Dogtown is boring, and I’m looking for some adventure. That’s all.”

The younger pirate prowled toward her, looking her up and down like he was sizing up a farm animal. She stiffened, half expecting him to jab his fingers in her mouth to judge the condition of her teeth. “Look at her,” he grumbled. “The others will eat her alive.”

She had no idea what “others” they were talking about. Were they also children of serial killers? If not, they should be scared of her.

Nod ran his hand over his beard. “You’ve given your opinion, Lir. But we’re taking her. She’s our Dogtown tribute.”

“I’ll go,” said Thomas frantically. “You chose me.”

“You’re not taking her,” shouted Tobias. Within a moment he was crouching on the table, and the lantern candles blazed higher. In their flickering light, his face looked more demonic than human.

Rage suddenly blazed through Fiona. “It’s not your decision, Tobias! You chose to throw away your life when you were out of options. Who are you to tell me I can’t do the same thing?”

Estelle bared her teeth. “She’s made her choice.” She threw back her head, bones cracking as she transformed into an enormous, golden wolf. Leaping onto the table, she snarled at Tobias.

Dishes smashed as the rest of her pack followed. The Queen had made her call. Fiona would be the tribute, unless Tobias wanted to light the whole town on fire.

Hundreds of growling wolves closed in on him, circling her friends.

The Picaroon, Nod, smacked his hands together, looking Fiona over with a grin. “Well, that’s settled. We’re taking the criminal’s daughter.”

Fiona jammed the gold back into her bag and strode over to the Picaroons before anyone—herself included—could change their mind.





13





Celia





Celia watched in stunned silence as her best friend followed the monsters into the forest. Her breath came fast and hard. She wanted to scream. Fiona was walking to her death. No one would go after her unless they wanted to fight through the wolves.

“Can’t we do something?” Hot tears stung Celia’s eyes as she looked to the snarling wolves that encircled her, turning at last to Oswald. “Can’t you do your rage-killing thing and stop them? Can’t Tobias light everyone on fire?”

He watched Fiona walk away. “And here I thought you had a moral problem with massacres.”

Jerk. “You don’t even care what’s happening to Fiona.”

“Noways caring will aid her now.”

Celia brushed a tear off her face as the werewolves finally backed off. Fiona was gone—disappeared into the mists with the monsters.

What the hell was she thinking? True, her mother had just been murdered. But Celia had seen her own mother’s head lopped off in a public square, and she hadn’t lost her mind over it. Sure, she was angry. But sacrificing herself to Dagon was a crappy way for Fiona to get revenge on her mother’s killers.