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“Woah,woah.” I yank my arm back. “I won’t try anything. I can walk just fine.”
“Boss’s orders.” He tightens his grip on my bicep and pushes me into the elevator.
It is at this moment that I realize I am in deep shit.
The Warlock is one of many powerful men in Port City, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have time to ruin me. He controls all of Wyrm Heights and the Lower East Valley, which are the richest and poorest areas of town.
I knew this when I came here, hell; I knew this when he hired me. But he has always been decent to his workers, relatively speaking. He wouldn’t… kill me.
I think.
I hang onto that last thought as I cross the collection of priceless Undersea paintings from the Ice Mer Court. All around, their ancient hues shimmer in the dim glow of the gallery. Blue, green, and purple paints blend into one—the ocean's salty swells are masterfully brought to life on the canvas.
My knock-off designer boots make barely whisper against the hard floor, yet the whole place seems to hum with contained energy. It makes me pause as I reach out to touch the glass protecting one of the masterpieces.
“No touching,” the bodyguard grumbles.
I yank my hand back. I had noticed the hum of Boss’ wards before, but now I wonder if the paintings themselves are imbued with some sort of distant magic of the King of the Ice Mer. Everything from the Mer is mixed with some sort of siren song.
At that moment, I could swear the weight of the ocean is in the air. It’s a heady gravity that draws me deeper into myself and the stories hiding beneath the waves. I suddenly long for those unknown places, and the strange creatures that swim under the moon's shifting lights.
Gifts from his lady-friend Esmeralda, no doubt.
My angry employer opens the door wearing the same robe, except this time it is open quite far down, revealing the purple warlock marks, which are now glowing. They pair nicely with his murderous eyes.
Behind him, lounging in her aqua-chair, is Esmeralda. The Mer Leader. From her file, it appears that she is of royal Spring Mer descent, but her father was an Ice Mer. The leadership is insular–only contained to King Phelix and his offspring. Given his divine parentage, cousins are mostly out of the question.
She wears nothing more than a sheer gown. Her face and body are covered in iridescent blue-gray scales, while her arms and legs are covered in silvery-gray. Her tail and hands are a smooth, shiny aquamarine, while the rest of her is a pale, ashen gray. This is way more of her than I saw in our meetings. Her aqua and gray hair flows down to her waist. Her teal eyes glow with the light of a thousand stars, and she is reclining while she watches my boss with a feral kind of pleasure.
She smiles, and I try to avoid looking at anything other than her face.
Sucking in a breath, I push past Akron.
You have a death wish today, a voice inside of me warns.
“Where is she?” I bark, my voice echoing through the silent room.
He fixes me with a hard gaze, sending his bodyguard away and slamming the door shut. His eyes slide past me and settle on Esmeralda.
“Where is who, Akron?” Her voice is no longer pleasant. Instead, it's a menacing rasp.
“Elva,” I said, not waiting for anyone else to answer.
Esmeralda gasps, and her eyes flash with rage. Her under-lids blink over hard turquoise eyes as she hisses out her question. “What the hell do you know about her, you filthy little Fae?”
I take a deep breath. “She’s in trouble.”
The mer moves so fast, I don’t even see her do it. Within the space of a heartbeat, a clammy not-there, but somehow very real, hand clamps around my neck. My throat squeezes. Water mixed with magic fills my mouth, and I gag against the influx of death into my body.
Esmeralda’s lip curls, and her magical grip tightens, “How do you know that?”
I choke out a single word, “I… I just know.” The water lessens just enough for me to speak, though the consonants gurgle in the back of my throat.
“Esmeralda, stop.” Akron sounds exasperated. “He’s not with the resistance. I would know, I have him followed.”
My stomach turns over, and my heart stops beating as Esmeralda turns to face him.
A nasty choking noise escapes my throat. I struggle to say, “You what?” My voice is barely above a watery whisper. I claw at intangible hands.
