All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) (17 page)

I ram my blade into his shoulder and he snarls. He manages to snag a fistful of my hair and drag me down; if I weren’t so vain, I might consider slicing it away. Instead, I dig my fingernails into
his forearm hard enough to draw his blood. I free one hand, grip my dagger, then wrench the blade from his shoulder as uncleanly as I can manage. Blood pools through his shirt, and my blade bathes in it.

“Damned whore!” Blarthe lashes out at my face, and I barely dodge the blow. He rears back to kick my stomach so hard that I slam into the stone counter, the breath stolen from my lungs. For a moment, I see stars. Magic is what draws me back into reality, lulling me with sweet promises.

It’s as though it whispers to me:
We can get out of here. All we have to do is kill him. Aren’t you hungry, Amora?

And gods, I’m starving.

Ferrick’s on the other side of the counter. He leans in and offers me his left hand. Because I don’t have time to dig through my satchel to find the bones I need, I wipe my blade on the back of my hand, saving Blarthe’s blood, and quickly reach over and slice off two of Ferrick’s fingers. He barely winces before I snarl at him to go help Bastian, who’s in the middle of sparring with three men at once.

There’s a small fire in the back of the shop, and now I have all the supplies I need.

I sheathe my blade and dive over the countertop. Blarthe catches my foot at the last second and yanks me back. My face hits the stone and my mouth fills with blood. I can’t choke on it or spit it up; I can’t mix my blood with Blarthe’s. So instead, I swallow it back down.

Mindful of Ferrick’s severed fingers, I grip the opposite edge of the counter and pull myself forward to kick Blarthe’s face. My heel catches his nose and I tumble to the floor, stirring up dust around me.

“Whatever you’re doing, do you mind doing it a little quicker?” Bastian lifts his sword in front of him in time to knock another one back. One man lies bleeding and choking
beside him while Ferrick stands on top of a fallen roulette wheel, dealing with two more. He wields his rapier with skill, though it’s nothing compared to the sharp swords and daggers the others use with murderous intent.

One of us will die if I don’t move quickly.

I’m faster on my feet than Blarthe, who struggles to pull himself over the counter. Magic rattles my bones and pulses through my veins. It fills every inch of me with shadows that whisper sweet promises, telling me I can do anything I dream.

I wrap the whispers around me and smear the fingers along the drops of Blarthe’s blood on my hand. It’s not enough blood to kill him, but it’s enough to bind his soul to the finger I toss into the flames.

Halfway to me, Blarthe stumbles and roars with pain. He twists and clutches his left hand. One of his fingers has fallen off, the price of my magic’s equivalent exchange. It lies on the dirty floor, a pile of scattered cards around it. The blood that spills from the severed limb eases the tension of my magic. Now
that’s
enough to kill him, should I have to.

“Call off your men!” I slip a tooth from my satchel and drop to a crouch to wave it over the hungry flames. They singe my fingers, eager for something to devour. “Otherwise I’ll destroy that pretty grin of yours.”

I imagine the strange sensation he’s feeling—a tingling, burning numbness in his mouth. With his blood puddling onto the floor, I can do anything I want to him. If I could just get to it.

What he doesn’t know is that I need more blood to kill him, and I won’t let on. I hold the control in this fight, and I grin as fear flashes in Blarthe’s glare.

“Call off your men,” I repeat, enunciating each word.

This time he listens. The clashing steel silences after another sharp smack.

There are too many bodies for Vice to be silent—someone chokes in the corner, spitting up thick wads of crimson blood. One man has just managed to corner Bastian against a broken table, and leans into him with a blade. He looks the most annoyed with the sudden stall.

Bastian pushes the man away with a growl.

“I am Amora Montara, Princess of Visidia and future High Animancer.” I ignore a loud hiss from one of the men. “You’ve harmed me and my men. By law, I can kill every one of you. If you think I’m incapable, I dare you. Try me.” I form a fist around the tooth and squeeze it tight. Blarthe winces.

I keep my expression neutral as I stare at the men, one by one, memorizing their faces. The mood in the room shifts as they watch the blood dripping from Blarthe’s hand and into thick puddles on the floor. To them, I’m the gatekeeper of their damnation. And though I don’t want to hurt these men—most of whom I’m certain have no choice but to work with Blarthe—I need them to believe that.

Neither Bastian nor Ferrick has moved into a safer position. Like the rest of the men, they’re struck by surprise. Bastian at least manages to look properly impressed.

“We’re looking for a mermaid,” I tell the crowd. “And we’re not leaving here until we find one.”

The only mermaid in town is a young woman named Vataea, and when pressed, the men admit Blarthe has imprisoned her. Vice doubles as Blarthe’s home, and he’s hidden Vataea in one of the back rooms, only to be brought out for “special” occasions.

I grit my teeth firmly, not wanting to imagine what those occasions might be.

I send Ferrick back to get her. There’s no way I’m abandoning my position by the hearth, and Bastian is better help with a sword should the men lash out.

“He’s taking too long.” Bastian moves to stand beside me, dipping his blade into the puddle of Blarthe’s blood that covers the scattered playing cards. He then holds his sword out for me, making the blood readily available.

Blarthe’s face is flushed an angry red, but he plants his feet into the ground and keeps still. Sweat isn’t just a sheen on
his face; it drips off him in beads and sours the shop’s already dank air. One wrong move and he knows I’ll toss this tooth into the fire. I’ll do it over and over again, until he can’t even think about standing back up.

Ferrick really is taking a while. I sent him back almost fifteen minutes ago.

The shop is eerily silent, so much so I consider sending Bastian to check on him until the air shifts. The men in the shop turn their heads toward the back hall as footsteps approach. I follow their eyes, and while I
see
Ferrick, it’s like I can’t even look at him. The woman standing beside him demands every ounce of my attention.

She’s young in appearance, physically near my age, though something in her golden eyes hints she’s much older. Her velvety skin is lightly tanned and brushed with a golden sheen, unblemished by even the tiniest freckle. Her black hair glides to her hips like perfect silk, and while she’s thin and delicate-looking, there’s a fierceness in her tensed jaw as she approaches. She juts her chin high in defiance, and jerks her body away from Ferrick as he tries to lead her.

This poor girl is dressed in dirty rags that hardly conceal her body. They leave clear the soft skin of her stomach and end just below her hips. I stare at the entirety of her smooth thighs. Like Shanty promised, they’re marked with thick flesh-colored scars that run all the way from her inner thighs down to her bare feet.

The mermaid is breathtaking. If Bastian wasn’t looking before, he certainly is now. Even Ferrick’s cheeks are flushed pink as he walks beside her, forehead pinched like he’s trying not to stare.

“What do you want with me?” Her voice is jarringly powerful, though there’s enough honey in her words to tell me not all the myths are false. Six words, yet she wields them like
a weapon; it’s said a mermaid can sing one sweet song to lure sailors into the sea, and another to summon the ocean and all its creatures. This girl might not look it, but she’s dangerous. I feel it in my bones.

“If you touch me again,” she says, “I will tear the hands from your body and rip your throat out with only my
teeth
.”

Bastian goes to speak, but I stop him. I imagine Vataea has had enough of men for a lifetime.

“We want to get you out of here,” I say.

Her steely eyes—previously glued to Blarthe—whip toward me. There are heavy, tired shadows beneath them. She’s smart enough to piece the puzzle together, probably because of his sweaty skin and the blood crusting around his lips. Though she smiles thinly, her words are cold. “And take me where? To another island, only for me to be imprisoned and used again?”

“We don’t intend to kidnap you.” I make sure to hold her stare, though the way she watches me is like a constant challenge. My lips dry, unsettled. “We need your help.”

Vataea’s head falls back, and she laughs. It’s a delicious sound, sweeter than honey cake. It sends a warmth through my body that spreads through my cheeks and settles into my belly.

“My
help
?” she echoes. “I’ve never heard it called that before.”

I open my mouth, but Bastian pushes forward. “We need to borrow your magic. I have a ship. In exchange for your assistance, we’ll get you out of here and will release you once your help is no longer needed.”

“So you want to take me and use my powers?” Again, she smiles, thin and lethal. “How does that make you any different than Blarthe?”

She has no reason to trust us, and I don’t blame her. Whatever Vataea’s been through has made her cold and harsh. And yet I can see the smallest shimmer of hope light her face. She
wants
this to be a better option, and to get as far from Kerost as possible.

Her question causes Bastian to falter, but I want Vataea to trust us. “You’ll be well compensated for your time. Lend us your magic—and nothing more—for no longer than half a season. After that, we’ll drop you off wherever you wish, and you’ll be free to do as you please. As the Princess of Visidia, I give you my word.”

She leans back, assessing me. “You’re the daughter of the High Animancer?”

“I am.”

Blarthe responds before she does. “The mermaid belongs to me.” His once crisp voice goes hoarse, thick with rage and bile. “You want her, you buy her.”

I reach into my satchel to retrieve a handful of bones and skim them along the blood that sits on the tip of Bastian’s sword. I smile back at Blarthe. “And you belong to me. Consider yourself lucky if the only payment you receive is a spared life.”

Blarthe’s damp skin turns ruddier by the moment, fists clenching at his sides as he looks between me and the mermaid. Wrinkles begin to wither the smooth skin of his forehead while the surrounding men look on, no doubt wondering whether there will be another fight.

Bastian readies his sword while I lean closer to the fire, holding two bloodied finger bones.

Blarthe looks away, shoulders sagging with defeat.

Vataea’s grin could only be wider if Blarthe was on the floor struggling for his last breath—or maybe if this entire town was burning to the ground. I’ve no idea what she’s gone through, but my imagination tells me she has every right to want this man dead. I motion for Ferrick to bring her closer and she comes willingly.

She’s taller than I am by an inch or two, and I can practically feel the challenge roiling off her as she approaches.

Up close, Vataea is even more gorgeous. My throat closes and my palms sweat as she sizes me up.

“What do you say?” I have to choke the words out. “Do we have a deal?”

I stretch my hand forward, and the mermaid snatches it up. Her skin is smooth, hands so soft they make mine seem overworked.

“Your father was good to my people. He protected them when I could not,” she says. “I will agree to those terms. Half a season.” Her words are a song I could listen to all day, yet I force myself to clear my throat and turn my attention back to the situation before me. We got what we came here for, so it’s time to get off the island and back to
Keel Haul
. Preferably without dying.

I turn to Blarthe’s men. “Walk down the hall and wait there until we say you can move.”

The moment I step away from the fire, we’ll lose our leverage. Because of this, I have Bastian fetch me a rag from the bar, and douse the material with a bottle of rum. I wrap it around a poker that leans against the hearth, feed it to the flames, and watch my torch ignite. If they come after me, I’ve the fire I need to not go down without a fight.

I turn to Vataea and the others. “You three, start toward the door. And keep her safe, she doesn’t have a weapon.” I point to the exit. Both boys stare at me as though I’m a hydra’s third head.

“Bastian can take her, and I’ll stay with you. We’ll go together,” Ferrick argues.

He means well, but I fix him with a dangerous look until he caves and starts for the door. Slowly, holding the makeshift torch in front of me, I inch my way after them.

The men behind me stir against the walls, restless. They whisper their plans, and I try not to listen because the last thing I need is fear slowing me down. I take a swig of the rum, but don’t swallow.

“Get me back that mermaid, and I’ll return all the years you’ve ever lost,” Blarthe tells his men, too loud to ignore. “Don’t let them get away!”

The moment I’m at the door, Blarthe and the others lunge. I take a sharp breath through my nose, then spit the rum into the fire of my torch, breathing it like a dragon onto his skin. Around him, the other men stumble back and scatter.

I may not kill Blarthe tonight, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t suffer for his crimes until I return for him.

When his skin chars and distressed screams fill the night, I drop the torch and run.

Pain stabs my calves as my feet slap against the cracking pavement. When my boots catch a stray rock and I roll my ankle, I bite through the searing pain, catch my balance, and push myself at full speed after the other three.

Vataea is surprisingly nimble on her feet. She and Ferrick lead the way through the winding alleys and mud. Bastian’s a few steps behind. He keeps looking over his shoulder at me, then past me. His grimace is enough to tell me I need to run faster.

Bastian reaches his hand back and I lurch forward to take it. He yanks me beside him with a grunt. The pain in my ankle swells deeper. Every step feels like a thousand needles stabbing into my flesh, but the bruises along Vataea’s back and the rags she wears assure me there’s no option but to run.

Bastian must sense something’s wrong because his grip
tightens on my hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them touch you.”

I believe him. There’s something in his voice that fills the words with truth. Something in the way his touch sends shock waves through my body. I wrap my fingers tight around his hand and keep running.

Something
swooshes
through the air and nicks my ear. I gasp, the pain hot and searing. Three men close in behind us.

One of them sneers, chucking another rock toward me. I duck just in time, but the next one hits Bastian on the shoulder. His muscles seize and he grunts, but there’s nothing we can do. If we turn and fight, more men will join these three within minutes.

The ground softens beneath my feet as we reach the wet pebble shore, each step more slippery and more painful than the last. The stench of brine and seaweed fills the moist air.

Ferrick is already helping Vataea onto a dinghy. She looks back at us with a grimace and yells something indecipherable at Ferrick, pointing to the ties securing our boat to the land. He undoes them but stands with one foot on the pebbles and the other in the boat, holding it in place.

Bastian shoves me forward and I nearly fall face-first into Ferrick, who pulls me onto the dinghy. He gives it a firm kick into the water before falling into place beside me.

Bastian’s still running. One stone hits our boat while another smacks him in the head. He sways, and the men behind him draw their swords.

“Bastian, run!” I scream. He pushes forward as best he can. The ocean is to his knees by the time he reaches the dinghy and drags himself onto the cramped space. The dinghy rocks, threatening to tip us over, but I silently beg the ocean for its help.

Just this once, it listens.

Ferrick and I are quick to grab the two oars, but the men have followed us into the water. There’s still enough time for them to grab on to the dinghy and yank us back.

I spin to Vataea, who snarls at the approaching men. Her breaths are quick and feral.

“Do something!” I growl, pounding the oar into the water. I use every bit of strength left in me to propel us forward, away from the approaching men. Ferrick does the same, but the water is so shallow it’s hard to gain headway. The men lurch forward, trying to grab the edge of the dinghy. “You’ve a song that can control the sea, don’t you? Give us a wave or something!”

She jerks her focus to me, though her eyes slip to the water. They fill with longing as her breaths steady.

She’s going to leave us.

I want to reach for the cursed necklace in my boot to use on one of our pursuers, but I can’t tear myself away from rowing long enough to grab it. It’s useless in this fight.

A thin man with a scar over his eye dives forward and grabs on to the edge. He’s got a solid grip, but I whack the oar down on his hand with all my strength. The man draws it back with a hiss of breath.

“Please,” I beg Vataea through gritted teeth. “This kingdom needs us so much more than you know. Please, help us.”

She squares her shoulders and furrows her brows, never turning away from the ocean. My heart drops when she throws herself over the dinghy.

The moment she hits the water, the sea flashes an iridescent gold. The men following us curse. All but one throw themselves from our boat and bolt to the shore.

I catch a flash of tail fin beneath murky green water as the gold fades. Her fin is a startling rose gold; the tips shimmer bright as jewels, like a shining trinket I’m tempted to reach into
the water and take. If not for the need to defend myself from the remaining pursuer, I might have followed after that fin.

“She’s leaving?” Ferrick asks breathily. “I thought we had a deal!”

While I fend off the men and their storm of rocks and hungry hands, he’s still rowing the other oar with everything in him. The water is less shallow by the second. It’s looking like we’re about to escape free and clear when the thin man throws himself at us again. I whack his hand once more, but this time he only grunts.

He reaches for my cape, latching onto it and trying to tip us into the water. I grab the dagger at my side, but Bastian has already drawn his blade. Ferrick, sickly and green, digs his oar through the waves and does his best to steady us.

“Get away from this boat now and we’ll spare your life,” Bastian says. His words slur, and I wonder how hard that stone hit his head.

“Give me the princess and I’ll spare yours,” the man replies. His eyes light with excitement as he tries to lunge past Bastian. He truly thinks he has us cornered, and he might be right. Bastian’s eyes keep crossing. The man reaches for me again and I claw my fingernails into his skin, trying to throw him off balance. We need to get him off the boat. We need—

Someone is singing. It’s a language I don’t understand, and a voice unlike any I’ve heard.

Forget honey, this is unparalleled sweetness and silk. Everyone stills, attention shifting to the mermaid who is only a few short feet away. She watches us with golden eyes that rest above the sea. Water clings to her smooth black hair, which floats around her like a dusky halo. Her lips are beneath the surface, but still her precious song calls to us.

Vataea’s eyes flicker briefly to my side. A signal. I force myself to break away and look at Ferrick and Bastian. Their
faces are slack. They stare unblinking at the mermaid, lost in the trance of her song. Ferrick tries to stand, but I push him back down onto the dinghy’s small wooden bench. When Bastian moves to stand as well, I sigh and collapse into his lap while draping my feet over Ferrick’s thighs, locking him in place.

The mermaid’s spell is working
too
well. It’s everything I can do to keep them from chasing after her.

She lifts her lips out of the water. I try not to stare at how soft and full they are as she parts them, singing another verse.

The dinghy rocks as the skinny man throws himself away from the boat and swims toward the mermaid. Both Bastian and Ferrick try to do the same, but I grind my boots into the bench and stiffen my legs to keep Ferrick down. As for Bastian, I pinch his cheeks in my hands, trying to get him to look at me. He struggles, but I don’t let him turn away. His breath is warm on my lips. It takes me by surprise, softening my body enough for Bastian to knock me down as he stands. I rush to my feet, swaying the dinghy, and throw myself back on top of him and Ferrick.

“Kiss them,” the mermaid whispers, her words wrapping around me. The scrawny man has already reached her. She smiles as she holds his shoulders, body pressed close to his. “This song is one for anyone who can be seduced by a woman’s charm. So a kiss from a woman is the quickest way to break the spell. Here, I’ll show you.” She draws the entranced man forward and presses her lips against his. His fingers dig into her bare shoulders, pulling her against his body. It takes only a second longer before his eyes snap open in realization.

It’s already too late.

He tries to scream but the mermaid’s fingers sink into his skin as she drags his body beneath the water.

I’ve heard stories of what mermaids do with those they
entrance. Some say they devour their hearts to prevent themselves from aging. Some say they drag sailors down to their home beneath the water and imprison them. And then there are some who say a mermaid doesn’t need a reason to drown anyone. They’ll tell you that mermaids do it for fun.

As Vataea disappears, I’m left with two men who are about to throw themselves after the mermaid if I don’t do something quickly.

I sigh, staring at Ferrick’s lips. I was always going to have to kiss them one day, but the time has come far too soon.

Ferrick doesn’t budge as I lean in and press my lips against his. He tastes like the sour ale he sipped on at Vice, lips soft and fuller than I gave him credit for. His hands twitch at my sides and settle on my hips, attempting to draw me in. He pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and bites it gently. It’s something that would normally elicit a heat in my belly, but while Ferrick’s a fine kisser, I feel nothing.

When I draw back he gasps for a breath, flushed from his forehead to his neck. He looks at me, but the expression is so surprised I’m not sure he recognizes what’s happening. I shift my attention to the pirate whose lap I’m sitting on.

Bastian’s skin is smooth as I cup his face in my palm, trying to draw his attention to me once more. He’s eyeing the water with an animalistic hunger that sets nerves crawling along my skin. I try to ignore why this makes me so anxious as I lean in and press my lips to his.

Bastian’s quicker to respond than Ferrick. His hand slides from my thigh to my waist, and then to my shoulder. He grips it tightly, crushing me to him. My entire body swells with warmth and I find myself kissing him back with the same urgency. Bastian’s other hand rests on my back and beneath my shirt, caressing my skin. His tongue brushes mine, tasting me, and chills pulse through my body like electricity.

This
is how a kiss is meant to make me feel.

I have to force myself to pull away, sucking in a breath.

Bastian’s eyes are open, staring. His chest moves in quick, heavy breaths. When he realizes where his hands are, he clears his throat and draws them back to his sides. “I’m sorry,” he whispers breathlessly. I’m about to tell him it’s fine when his eyes move toward the water once more. “I thought you were…”

“Vataea,” I finish for him. The words hit me like a tidal wave. “You thought I was the mermaid.”

He ducks his head and opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t let him. I push myself from his lap and grab the oar, thankful for an excuse to look away. Painting a smile onto my lips, I begin to row. “She told me it was the quickest way to break the spell. The only thing you have to be sorry for is being so susceptible to a woman’s charm. The same goes for you, Ferrick.”

I turn to Ferrick, whose sharp face is turned from me as he rows. His shoulders are slumped as though an anchor is pulling him to the sea. My smile falters.

“The two of you were about to drown yourselves chasing after a mermaid,” I tell them, sharper and more defensive than I mean to be. “I had to kiss
both
of you, Ferrick.”

He balls his hands into fists and stuffs them against his sides. “Both of us. Right.”

I’m spared having to say more by the shifting water on my side of the dinghy. I lean over to spot the mermaid, who peers up at me with large, enchanting golden eyes. Crimson blood stains her lips.

“Did it work?” she asks.

I nearly laugh, but the sound catches in my throat. “It worked.”

“Good. Then help me up.” She stretches her hand up, and my body tenses as I try not to stare. Somewhere in the ocean
she’s lost her rags. I hand Bastian my oar and make both him and Ferrick turn away before I pull Vataea into the dinghy and offer her my cloak. The scales of her fin shed away and separate into two bare, scarred legs.

“That,” she says, “is the most fun I’ve had in years.”