In the Veins of the Drowning(61)

Anticipation and fear had turned my stomach sick, but I was mere days away from being free. Days away from being rid of all the virulent ties to my old life—of my bond to Eusia. Days away from starting a new life that was all my own. I’d be rid of the deception of a blood bond that made me want a man I could never have.

Slowly, I turned toward Theodore and reached up to touch his stubbled cheek. He leaned into my palm. The edges of his eyes were strained, his full lips collapsed into a firm line.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Then I flung the door of the hut wide open, slipped behind it, and slammed it firmly shut. I felt for a bolt, slid it into place. I pressed my back against the damp wood.

Theodore punched the door. “Imogen.”

It was black as night within.

“Imogen. Gods damn it.” He hit the door again. “Open it now.”

A voice came from the nothingness. A young woman’s, deep and melodic and lovely. Her croon was so encompassing it seemed to vibrate through my chest. “There you are, dearest. I have waited so long.”

Terror fell through me like a jagged stone.

Theodore redoubled his pounding at the sound of her voice. The wood rattled against my back.

“Imogen, open the fucking door.” His shoulder must have slammed into it next, deep voice cracking. “Imogen.”

“He’ll break my door,” said the maiden.

“Then let’s be quick.”

“Quick?” Her voice hummed like a song. “Oh, my girl, what you require is a slow business.”

“How do you know what I require?”

“You do not know me, do you?” She tutted. “I can feel your power through the sea. Just like you can feel the water that has seeped through the soles of your boots. I can nearly taste the God’s blood that flows beneath your supple, young skin in the air.” A faint rustling sound sent a shiver through me. “Your blood has spread through the sea for decades. I can only assume you are here because you want it back.”

“I am the daughter of the Great Goddess Ligea. I need to know what… happened. Where she went. And how.” I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. “And I hold two blood bonds. I need them severed.”

A loud bang came from the door at my back. Another and another.

“Two bonds! Two is one too many, did no one ever tell you?” Her amusement was caustic. “Has it made you sick?” Another scraping, rustling sound came from the darkness. The quiet clinking of glass against glass. “I need your blood first, sweeting. To give you the answers you seek. And to know just what kind of severing draught to give you.”

Theodore’s next assault on the door sounded with a splintering crack. “Open the door, Imogen. Do not give her your blood without me beside you.”

She gave a gentle, melodic laugh. “You’re certain he wants a severance?”

“Of course he does. That’s why he came here with me.” She gave a simpering hum at my answer. “The blood bond is confusing us both.”

“Confusing is not what I’d call a Siren’s blood bond. The bond is clear as clean water… to protect. That is all it commands.”

I shook my head, trying not to lose my nerve. This was the only way I could protect him. By keeping him out of her hut, away from her smoke and its memories. More rustling, and then the maiden’s lovely voice fell low. “Your blood.”

“Imogen.” Theodore’s voice turned begging, broken.

“Making a draught will take hours at the very least. A severance will take days. I’m afraid my door won’t hold that long.”

My breath raced as I scowled into the black.

“Now, now,” she said condescendingly, as though she could see me.

The dark was impenetrable, my eyes never seeming to adjust. Somewhere in the middle of the space three orbs began to glow. It was not like the spill of golden candlelight but a dampened brightness, like when a lantern cuts through the webbing between a finger and thumb. They filled the room with a sickly aura, illuminating a figure at their center.

She sat upon a mound of vines. The lines of her body were straight and youthful, unlike the hunched figure I’d seen on the rocks. But as the light grew brighter, I could make out the vines that snaked around her torso, shoulders, and neck, forcing her straight. The jaundiced light snagged on the hanging skin of her bare arms. It gleamed over a taut bald head and cast grotesque shadows over the sacks of loose flesh that hung beneath her eyes. Blank, still eyes the color of goat’s milk, and yet I knew without a doubt she could see me clear as day.

My fingers twitched to unbolt the door.

“Cruel,” she chided. “I know time and magic have made me monstrous, but there is no need to look at me like that. Open the door, Imogen.” Her lovely voice turned sultry—covetous, possessive. “I’d like to see my king.”

My own possessiveness seized me. The blood bond scalded me from the inside out. Without taking my eyes from her, I reached behind me and searched for the latch. I slid the bolt, and the hut flooded with gray morning light.

“Hello, Theodore.” She spoke to him like a lover, her voice laced with the memory of shared private moments. The tips of my fingers burned as my nails stretched into talons. “Look how you’ve grown. From a sweet-faced boy to a hardened man in so few years. And still just as beautiful.”