Roland had wanted to impose his will on everyone, but he had also wanted everyone to obey him because they loved him and agreed with him.
I reached striking distance. Onyx stayed where he was, glancing at me, then at Barrett, then at me again.
“You put in a custom order for a child to be stolen off the street and you sold him. That is slavery. You’re a human trafficker. Scum.”
I raised Sarrat and aimed it at his throat. The blade smoked, feeding on the vampire blood still coating the saber. Thin tendrils of white vapor slid off the pale metal.
“I’m not a patient woman. Who bought the boy?”
Onyx sucked in a lungful of air. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll kill you. His name is Aaron.”
“Last name?”
“Just Aaron. He’s a god.”
Oh goodie. “Where can I find this god named Aaron?”
“Emerald Wave.”
“And what is that?”
Onyx licked his lips nervously. “A cruise ship. It sank off the north end of Figure Eight Island. That’s his base.”
“Why did he want Darin? Why that particular kid?”
“He buys anyone who can stay under water longer than normal. That’s all I know.”
“How long has Aaron been buying kids like Darin?”
“For three years.”
Gods appeared during flares, extremely potent magic waves that came every 7 years, but they also showed up during random magical events. Three years ago there was a Night of the Shining Seas that coincided with or triggered a particular strong magic wave. And it had an especially strong effect on marine creatures. People called it the Night of the Shining Seas, because the oceans had glowed so bright, it looked like an inverted sunrise.
I slid Sarrat back into its sheath and took three steps back.
Onyx looked at Barrett. “I can explain.”
Barrett smiled and raised his eyebrows.
“I owe money to Lunar Crown,” Onyx stammered.
Wilmington’s largest casino. People did screwed-up shit for three reasons: love, revenge, or greed. Greed far outnumbered the other two.
“I just needed to pay off the debt, that’s all…”
Barrett gave him an encouraging nod.
“I never did anything…”
The remaining undead still sitting on the sidelines moved so fast, he might as well have teleported. A dark blur shot past Onyx. The journeyman stopped in mid-word. His mouth hung open in a slack O.
His stomach split in half and his intestines fell onto the stone by his feet.
The journeyman gagged. Blood gushed from his mouth. He choked on it, coughed, sending a cloud of bloody spray out, and collapsed.
Barrett’s eyes turned distant the way they did when a Master of Dead spoke through a faraway undead. “Blue Team 7, your feed is in the arena.”
He had piloted another vampire through this entire conversation. Masters of the Dead who could control two undead at the same time were rare. Just that ability alone had guaranteed a ticket to the Golden Legion when my father was in power.
Onyx made a gurgling noise.
“What’s your name?” Barrett asked me.
“Kate.”
“A word of advice, Kate. Don’t come to my island again.”
For a second, I thought of doing things the way my aunt would’ve done them. And then I remembered why we had moved to Wilmington.
“I’ll do my best,” I told him, turned, and walked toward the gates.
Rimush fell in step with me. As we exited the arena, 5 undead galloped through the gates, streaming past us to the bloody body on the floor.
5
The sunset slowly burned in the west, cooling to dark red and purple. Dusk had claimed the fields of Eagles Island. Thomas and I rode down the same road that had brought us here. A lone vampire was trailing us through the corn, keeping a lot of distance.
“I know where the Emerald Wave is,” Thomas said. “Never heard of Aaron though.”
And that was strange. If Aaron was a deity, a prophet, or an avatar, he would proselytize. That’s how their kind powered up. How was it that Thomas who, by his own admission, was born and raised in Wilmington, had never heard of him or the cult?
“When was the last time you saw the Emerald Wave?”
He thought about it. “Years. The ocean in that area is strange and dangerous.”
“When did that start?”
“About three or four years ago.”
“Since the Night of the Shining Seas?”
He nodded. “Yes, now that I think about it.”
Hm. “Have you heard of anything specific? Any incidents involving people around the Emerald Wave?”
“There are always stories. Supposedly, that ship has a hole in it that can only be seen from inside of it and it’s full of monsters.”
Peachy.
Thomas checked my face, trying to see what I was thinking.
“The important thing is that Darin is probably alive,” I said. “Water breathing is relatively rare. This Aaron needs him for something.”
Unless he was sacrificing water breathers to some weird deity, but that wasn’t a possibility I would raise with Thomas now.
“Do you think he’s really a god?”
“No. Gods can’t usually manifest outside of flares. Typical magic waves don’t pack enough juice. Also, if the magic falls while a god is in our world in the flesh, they would suffer a lot of damage. They can’t exist in physical form during tech. It would take them decades, possibly generations, to build enough power through faith to manifest again.”
“But they could? If the wave was strong enough?”
“Theoretically. They won’t though. Gods are cowards.”
The blueberry bushes ended. Marsh hugged the roadway, clumps of the smooth cordgrass blending together into a wall of green.
Watching Onyx slide around in his own blood on the floor of the arena bothered me. He was a child trafficker. The grimy cages at Red Horn said that he deserved everything he got.
It still bothered me.
He wasn’t mine to punish. My aunt would have congratulated me on finally learning some discipline. My father would have turned it into a deep examination of his own altruistic impulses and how they eventually led to his downfall and then lectured me to not repeat his mistakes.
I had to let it go. Obsessing about it would only pull me back onto a very dangerous road. It led to claiming territory, and building towers, and people who pledged their lives to me in exchange for a promise of power and immortality. That wasn’t the future I wanted. For myself or for my family.
Something rustled ahead in the marsh. I halted Cuddles. Thomas followed my lead.
The cordgrass parted, and three men emerged onto the road. They moved with the familiar, easy grace of shapeshifters. One of them carried a bucket. And the shortest of them carried a claymore on his back.
Gods damn it all to hell and back. Don’t see us. Don’t.
The three shapeshifters caught our scent and turned to look at us in unison. Three pairs of eyes caught the light of the dying sunrise and shone, one green and two yellow.
The green-eyed claymore user stood up straight. He was short but muscled like a wrestler. “Consort?”
Of all people in the whole wide world to run into.
“Consort!” The shapeshifter dropped to one knee and smacked his fist into his chest. “It’s you!”
Why me?
The shapeshifter on his right dropped to one knee as well. The other guy, the one with the bucket, stared at me, wide-eyed.