Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. “Where would we go?”
“Keep your voice down. I could take you to Mount Acidale, or Atlantis. I don’t know. But you need to decide—”
His words were cut off by a thick hand around his throat. Nod yanked him backward, choking the life out of his younger brother. “You will not steal my recruit,” he boomed.
46
Fiona
Fiona stood in the cove, listening to the gentle lapping of water against rock. Reaching behind her back, she touched the new tattoo, feeling the slightly raised edges where Lir had marked the wings.
Nod had nearly murdered him as Fiona had looked on screaming. But before Lir’s heart gave out, he’d clamped the first mate in irons instead. Maybe he’d lost his humanity, but he hadn’t been able to murder his brother.
In the bay, the Proserpine bobbed gently and the hot-coral sun dipped lower on the horizon. Lir remained on the ship, bound to the mast.
It didn’t look like the right sort of day for plunging to the depths to meet a shadow god. Surely there should be lightning and whirlwinds, maybe the angry face of the storm god. Instead, seagulls gently swooped below pale-lavender clouds. Of course, if she was going to die a horrible death, nature really wouldn’t care. It would just get on with things.
She shot a quick glance at Ives, who hummed placidly, waiting. Jacques stood across from them, running the brim of his hat through his fingers. For the first time since she’d met him, Fiona saw him looking nervous. He obviously wanted to be anywhere but here. He must have seen more than a few of his Dogtown friends sink to their deaths in the trials.
Gently rubbing his bone necklace, Captain Nod crossed the rocky shoreline, dressed in a blue suit flecked with gold. Apparently, this was a big night for him.
Fiona closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. There was no turning back from this. She would either die, condemned to a watery afterlife, or she would emerge from the waters as a Guardian. Perhaps someone like Nod, with only lingering scraps of humanity. Her father’s darkness could overwhelm her—set in like a rot that would eat away everything good her mom had managed to instill in her. She could find herself turned into a coldblooded killer.
She swallowed hard, watching as Nod looked her up and down. “My two beautiful tributes. You’ve made it this far. As far as I know, one of you is a bit murdery. Maybe you both are. But we don’t make judgments about good and evil. It’s Dagon who decides your value. You will swim into the cove, and you must not return until you’ve retrieved the gold coin from Dagon. He will either kill you, or grant you his favor. And as much as I love to feed our god, I’m hoping for at least one more crewmember, so try not to die.”
Fiona felt numb. She had no control anymore—just a pawn in a war between the gods. Ives’ eyes swerved to hers, and he gave a curt nod.
The Captain opened his palms. “Begin!”
Ives jumped in first, splashing frigid water all over Fiona. She glanced at Jacques, who lowered his eyes. He doesn’t think I’m going to make it.
Nod glared at her. “I hope this isn’t insubordination.”
She shook her head. Her spine stiffened, and she leapt.
* * *
She raised her arms above her head, letting herself sink into the murky water. Her heart was about to burst out of her chest, and her mind screamed Run. Her entire being told her to struggle against the current, to crawl her way out, but she forced herself to swim lower. When she closed her eyes, she almost thought she could see blood swirling through the dark water, the ocean floor covered by a bed of corpses.
If she was going to survive, she needed to see the underwater world the way Lir saw it, and she tried to remember the cathedral. Pearly light pouring through the water’s surface, kissing the undulating seagrass. She almost had the picture in her mind, when something slick grazed her arm. Adrenaline flooded her veins, but it was too dark to see. Something enveloped her in its slimy embrace, and she fought against it. Dagon. He was here, and she was completely powerless against him.
Slimy appendages enveloped her, and she saw him. Lir’s father on the beach, his face missing and his flesh grayed and bloated with seawater. Her father’s work. Fiona’s entire body shook, desperate to free herself. But Dagon wasn’t finished, and the image shifted. Danny dragged a woman through the woods of Dogtown, and her arms and feet were bound. Iron hung around the woman’s neck, suppressing her magic. Danny stopped, and with a grin, he pulled a knife from his pocket. His face transformed, growing younger and more feminine. It was Fiona’s face, smiling as she held a knife over Mrs. Ranulf.
It’s not me.