Her nose broke through the water the same moment Marshall Merridon burst through the door.
The startled cry never made it passed her teeth. Alora only managed a small breath before dropping below the surface as Merridon filled the doorway. It was nowhere near enough air to hold herself down for long; she only hoped the water was dim enough, the sconces kept low enough, that he would not see her and leave.
So much for that.
What precious air she kept left in a flurry of bubbles when a rough grip encircled her arm. Alora screamed in the pool, flailing, managing only a glimpse of the mermaid watching oh-so-carefully through the disrupted water.
Fine, you do not trust me?she thought, and focused on the picture of the creature in its horrid mask, before imagining the straps severed through.There you are!
Not a second later, and she was hauled up and over the ledge.
Coughing and sputtering, water pouring from her nose and mouth, Alora flipped to her hands and knees, begging for breaths that burned. But Marshall Merridon wouldn’t be deterred by the pathetic picture she made. Frazzled to a frenzy, his hand encircled her throat this time and hauled her to her feet.
“What have you done to my mansion, Miss Smith? Or I should I say…Miss Pennigrim!”
Alora must have appeared as taken aback as she felt, because Merridon huffed a humorless laugh, his opposite hand coming up to his wounded head. “Betrayal.Betrayedby those I thought most loyal to me. My performers. Myson.Mysister.It took her until just minutes ago to explain to me that I’d been bludgeoned. Even longer to bepersuadedinto being more forthcoming with the details. You wench! I catalogue my contracts twice a day! Did you think I wouldn’t notice what was missing?”
Alora choked as his thumb pressed to that delicate point. His forefinger, too. Good god, would she really die in the Room of Happy Days? What luckless irony.
She attempted to alleviate the pressure against her arteries, but her toes hardly touched the floor anymore.
“Lucky for you, little liar, that I want you.”
That heneededher, more like. But leave it to Marshall Merridon to stroke his own ego even with his mansion collapsing around him. His grip eased by the smallest fraction, Alora finding her footing again.
“Now, you will tell me everything you’ve done. Spare nothing. If you do, I might rethink using this and start over fresh.” At that, he waved a blowgun, newly loaded.
Alora mentally shook her head. Did he think her that much of an idiot? He would dart her anyway—she knew it for fact—only now he’d have her answers first. It would be an inconvenience tohim, of course. He’d have to convince her of her enchantment, of how to wield it, and there would likely be many mistakes. But for a loyal performer capable of granting any desire? Any hiccups could be considered minor.
But Merridon had forgotten her previous trick, and with the oxygen once more returned to her brain, Alora imagined the needled end into one of rubber. He didn’t notice at all.
Nor did he notice the mermaid swimming carefully below the surface toward them, its silver eyes and long, yellow hair the only features visible. He also didn’t notice the impenetrable dark sweeping along the floor, taking the sconce light and casting them deeper in shadow. Alora did, though, because she was a designer, and she liked details.
Three things happened then, and they seemed to happen all at once:
Bash emerged from the dark, and her throat was released at the same moment Marshall Merridon’s was captured.
The mermaid broke the surface and sank its claws into its former master’s ankles until he screamed.
And Alora imagined a gag in the conman’s mouth so he could listen for once and not speak.
“Howdareyou touch her,” said Bash, a rasping growl that sent Alora’s teeth into her lip.
He didn’t tower over his father; in truth, he was not taller than him, but in this moment, the Urchin captain seemed to loom high above, ready to exact retribution.
A slew of muffled words came from Marshall Merridon’s mouth.
“Shutup.” Bash shook him hard enough that the rubber dart and blowgun tumbled into the water with a splash.
But Master Marshall Merridon, owner of Opulence Mansion, did not take kindly to hearing his own favorite command turned upon him. He made to kick out, only to scream anew, as hiscaptured ankles tore and bled freely. He tried then to swing at Bash, but Alora had been forthright in her thinking after seeing his kick. Like what had once adorned Bash’s wrists, shackles lashed themselves to Marshall Merridon’s.
Bash’s had been iron, though. Master Merridon’s were gold to match his outfit—and very heavy.
Expensive,thought Alora.
Not that she’d ever sell them. Heavens knew there were enough dark artifacts in the world without adding accursed shackles to the mix. And after adorning Marshall Merridon’s wrists, that’s what they would assuredly be: cursed.
Bash dragged his father in close. “You have taken advantage of every soul who’s ever made the mistake of trusting you. Me included. Your intentions have always been self-serving, your greed limitless, and you’ve not cared a whit for all you’ve hurt in the process. I’ll have no part of you anymore, and I wish that every part of you now regrets the day you traded for me, the sad child who had all the hope for a family.”
