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

He wiped a hand across his forehead. “Your mind is elsewhere.”


Fiona folded her hands behind her head, catching her breath. “If I drown, will I be with Dagon forever?”

“If he claims your soul, yes.”

She straightened. “The things he showed me—will I see them forever?”

Lir eyed her, tilting his head. “I don’t know. Nobody does.”

If she drowned, would Dagon force her to eternally confront the rottenness of her soul, reflecting her own monstrosity back at her? “But those visions. What are they? Do they show you the truth about something? Are they a picture of your true nature?”

He stared at the rocky ledge. “In my case it was something that came to be.”

Her gut churned. Maybe it had shown her the monster she would become. She wanted to ask Lir what he’d seen, but she knew he’d bristle at the question.

He blinked, looking up at her as though snapping out of a daze. “Are we going to get to work? You told me death didn’t worry you. You were worried about wasting your life.”

Jack’s voice rang in her mind, and she clenched her fists. On the day she’d learned what he really was, he had shouted to the skies, “Everyone’s scared of dying.” Without thinking, she repeated Jack’s words out loud.

Lir blinked at her. “It’s true. But the god of the deep wants you to understand your mortality. You must understand death to understand life.”

She squinted in the bright sunlight. “What’s there to understand about death?”

“When you meet Dagon, you’ll find out.”





34





Fiona





She closed her eyes, stepping into the cold water. Her feet slid over smooth, slimy stones. She’d left her dress behind on the rocks, and she folded her arms in front of her bare stomach.

Lir beckoned her forward, and she focused on the monstrous, snaking tattoo on his chest. With a shiver, she forced herself further into the water, and a wave washed up to her belly. Lir grabbed her hand, gently pulling her forward, until she rushed in up to her shoulders, past the breaking of the waves. She gasped at the chill.

“Can you float on your back?”

She nodded.

“Hold your arms out to the side. I’ll be right next to you, but you need to lift your feet.”

She gritted her teeth, taking in a long breath through her nose, and spread out her arms. Slowly, she let her feet float to the surface, buoyed by the water. Her body bobbed in the waves, and Lir’s fingertips skimmed the small of her back, somehow soothing the tension out of her.

“Kick your feet, and move your arms like wings.”

She did as instructed, fighting the temptation to stand up and get the hell out. She drifted on the waves, and Lir followed along.

“In the most basic sense, you are swimming. You won’t win any competitions yet, but you’re swimming.”

She took a deep breath, staring up at the sky.

“Next, I’m going to ask you to roll to your front.”

Her chest clenched.

“I’ll be here. You won’t drown. But you need to try. You can hold your head over the surface, and paddle your arms and legs to stay afloat.”

She wasn’t quite ready for that yet. “Lir—who do you think killed Berold?”

“One of the other recruits. Maybe Ostap. But if Nod’s new rule doesn’t scare him off, you should watch your step. Push a chair in front of your door at night. Don’t wander around the deck in the dark.”

A wave rolled under her body, and she gently rose and fell. If she didn’t think about all the rotting seaweed below her, it could almost be relaxing. “Isn’t there a spell for learning to swim?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no point. You don’t need magic to learn to swim, just like you don’t need magic for learning to walk.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re stalling, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“If you can’t turn over, you might as well drown yourself now.” His words were clipped.

“That’s a bit harsh.”

A drop of water ran between his thick eyebrows and down the bridge of his nose. “I’m not convinced you’re taking this seriously.”

He was right. She needed to get over this stupid, irrational fear. She clamped her eyes shut and inelegantly rolled to her front. Sputtering, she swallowed a briny gulp of water, and an image flashed in her mind of blood dripping into her mouth. A gaping, crooked jaw; a faceless man on the beach. Her mom’s lifeless face, half sunk in the sand, eaten away by salty seawater.

Gasping, she stood upright, wiping her hand across her mouth.

She glanced up at Lir. But as soon as she saw the fierce look on his face, she backed away. He glared at her, unmoving, and she was certain his eyes were doing that dark, cloudy thing. “This is pathetic.”