Cursed Blade (Daughter of Air Book 2) Page 4

  “What did you do?” he asked her in lowered tones as soon as she came aboard the Veritas.

  A little wind helped me dump the bodies back into the sea.

  “Cleaning up is a breeze around you, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes narrowed into glittering blue-green slits.

  Varun shuffled his feet against the polished wooden deck. All right, noted. Ashe had no sense of humor, or at least none that resonated with his sense of humor. He glanced at her hand. She was no longer holding the thing that she picked up off the beach. He wanted to ask her about it, but decided to try a tangential approach. “How did the Beltiamatu grow legs?”

  Ashe scowled. Magic, I suppose.

  “The sea witch?”

  Perhaps, although Medea is not the only source of magic in the ocean. And I get the feeling she doesn’t like Zamir, so why would she help him?

  “If she had no choice. Perhaps Zamir and his men captured her.”

  Ashe’s eyebrows shot up. Captured Medea? Really? You have no idea what she can do to people who piss her off.

  “She’s just one mermaid.”

  Ashe frowned, and Varun caught a sense of her uncertainty. “You don’t think so?”

  Ashe shrugged. She is just one, that’s true, but she’s lived for four mermaid lifetimes, and that’s just what we know. Either there’s a great deal of magic at play, or she’s not a mermaid.

  “She has a tail and lives in the water.”

  She glared at him. Really, Varun. Are we back to this same old argument? You only believe what you can see, touch, and hear?

  He nodded with the earnestness of a child eager for a teacher’s praise. “Only now, I’ve extended my scientific process to creatures that I thought only existed in myths and legends.”

  Her glare softened unexpectedly. The thoughtful frown on her face suggested that her irritation—at least in that moment—was not directed at him. Instead of speaking, she reached into her pocket, then unfolded her fingers in front of him.

  On the palm of her hand rested something small and flat, like a coin, two inches in diameter.

  “What is this?” Varun held it up. The unmilled edges gleamed as it caught the sun. “It looks like gold—but it feels different.”

  Ashe nodded. Jinn nodded too, vigorously mimicking Ashe, then cawed, giving voice to Ashe’s response. “This is adamantine. It’s not metal, but like most gems, it reflects light. And it’s almost as hard as a diamond. The amount of effort it took to carve the Star of Atlantis must have been tremendous.”

  Varun’s brain fizzed. “The what?”

  Ashe turned the disk over so that Varun could trace its etched design. “The Star of Atlantis. The eight-pointed star.”

  “I…didn’t know that. It’s still used today.”

  She nodded. “The eight-pointed star is a beautiful geometric pattern that the Atlanteans happened to choose as a symbol of their island nation. But combined with the adamantine on which it is etched—” Ashe shook her head. “Atlantis was the only source of adamantine, and when it was destroyed, it buried ninety-nine percent of the world’s supply of adamantine. The merfolk had the few remaining pieces on display as part of the royal collection in Shulim, but nothing like this, with this level of detail.”

  Varun folded his fingers over the disk. It felt warm in his hand, as if it radiated its own heat. “Is it magical?”

  Ashe rolled her eyes. “No, it’s a beautiful and hard stone, like a diamond, but rarer. Because it’s a stone instead of a metal, it’s nonconducting. It’s resistant to electricity, heat, and most other forms of energy. Really, Varun, whatever happened to that scientific process that you’re so fond of?”

  “Asking questions is part of that process,” he said, not in the least bit offended. “And I think it’s a fair question. You fall into the category of magic.” He met her gaze—or at least he tried to meet her gaze. “If you roll your eyes again, they might roll all the way back into your head, and you’ll never be able to see again.”

  “I don’t need my eyes to see. They’re just there for decoration.” Jinn cawed, rather mockingly, Varun thought. “This entire body is just for show.”

  “My point exactly.” Varun bowed slightly, like a performer ending his show with a flourish. “Magic.”

  “Just because you don’t understand it enough to explain it doesn’t make it magic.”

  “Fair enough, but until then, I’ll call it magic. Or do you prefer hocus-pocus?”

  Ashe’s hair tossed as she turned away from him, but Varun thought he glimpsed a smile on her lips. He found himself smiling too. “So you think the Beltiamatu we fought dropped this on the sand? Does it mean that they’ve found their way to Atlantis? Zamir too?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Just as well we were already planning on heading there next.”

  Her shoulders stiffened enough for him to know that she was scowling. The steady breeze suddenly skittered like a nervous colt. Just as well the air seemed to change with her mood. He might have had trouble figuring her out otherwise.

  “The library, remember? We wanted to look for old records that might give us clues on who Zamir might have bargained with.” He spoke when she did not. “Did you change your mind?”

  “Atlantis was destroyed long before my time, but even the Beltiamatu had stories about it.”

  “What kind of stories?”

  “About a people gone astray. Ancient gods abandoned. New ones embraced. And dark magic.”

  “The kind of dark magic that might give legs to merfolk? I thought you said the Beltiamatu used the Dirga Tiamatu to destroy Atlantis.”

  “We did. But it wasn’t just an act of war or the accidental outcome of political wrangling.”

  “It’s never just an act of war, even for us shallow humans. There are the reasons you tell the world, the reasons you tell yourself, and the reasons you tell no one—not even yourself. But if Zamir is in Atlantis, then that’s where we need to be—ghost stories or not.”

  She turned around, an eyebrow arched. “We? I travel faster—far faster—without you.”

  “I don’t doubt that. And I don’t doubt either that you could have won many battles a great deal faster if not for me. But we’re solving a problem that affects humans, and we humans, non-magical though we may be, intend to be part of the solution.”

  “What exactly do you think you’ll be able to do?”

  “Besides make you laugh?”

  Ashe’s eyes widened, then the corners of her mouth twitched in a valiant effort not to smile.

  He closed his hands into fists to keep himself from brushing away the stray lock of hair that always fell over her eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? Ondine was resting in the infirmary, and Ashe just wasn’t the kind of person anyone who valued his or her life would consider flirting with. Still, he and Ashe were almost friends—right?—and there was a certain latitude with their almost friendship. A tentative inching toward honesty, if nothing else. He tried for facts, couched in as much tact as he could muster. “You need practice in relaxing and laughing.”

  “There isn’t anything to laugh about,” Ashe retorted. Even Jinn’s tone sounded tart.

  “Is it always just duty and responsibility for you?”

  Ashe glanced over her shoulder at the ocean and the smoke rising above the remnants of Shulim. “I did that, Varun.” Jinn’s voice was steady, but it required no effort at all for Varun to hear Ashe’s heart breaking. “I did not activate the Dirga Tiamatu. I did not alter its target from Kalymnos to Shulim, but if you follow the sequence of events back far enough, I was responsible. I started this accursed chain of events when I left to find a soul for Zamir. I followed my heart, and an entire civilization died.”

  Varun expelled a shaky breath.

  The dark twirl of ash blended into storm gray clouds. Ashe shook her head. Her large eyes brimmed with moisture. “There is no safety love provides; no excuse it can offer to justify what happened.”

  “Y
ou’re too hard on yourself. Zamir made his choices, as did Kai. As did I. Don’t diminish the role we played. There’s plenty of blame to go around. Plenty of heroism too.”

  “I’ve done enough damage. I don’t count on wishful dreams and love to win the day.” Her gaze flicked to him. “I have to find Kai.”

  Varun nodded. The bite of the wind turned chilly. But why? He frowned slightly; it was best to focus on the conversation. Like most people, Ashe would reveal her cards in time—probably when it was most inconvenient. “We still have to save the oceans. Zamir and his warriors are still out there. The dead spots will continue to spread.” He worked through the few options available to them. “We’re running out of time, Ashe. We could split up. You find Kai. I’ll head to Atlantis and see what I can find there.”

  Her eyebrows drew together in an expression of such incredulity that he was grateful she had not burst out laughing.

  All right, fine. Scratch that idea. “I know that finding Kai matters,” he said. “But we set out to save the oceans together, and we’re not done. We’re nowhere near done. There’s a timer on that mission, and it’s rapidly clicking down to zero. You can’t do both, Ashe. Which will it be?”

  Ashe stared at him. She was not frowning or scowling, which suddenly worried him. Her blue-green eyes, as volatile as the tides, fixed on him, as if trying to see through him, as if she were trying to tell the difference between the truth and a lie.

  But why on Earth would she think he was lying to her—and about what?

  Chapter 7

  The Veritas, fully loaded with gas and supplies, pulled out of Kalymnos harbor late that evening and turned to the open sea. The crew settled down for a warm meal in the mess hall. Varun alone remained on the deck, enjoying the ship’s leisurely cruise past the islands of the Aegean Sea. Pockets of land glittered like sparkles in the darkness. This—here—was home.

  The warmth and comfort of the familiar could not dispel the nervous tension in his stomach.

  His words to Ashe about saving the world together had been ten percent bravado and ninety percent wishful thinking. He was not so delusional as to imagine that an elemental spirit who controlled both air and water needed his help.

  But she had given in without argument—which was not like her.

  And the way she had looked at him—the suddenly icy suspicion in her gaze…

  Ashe was up to something, but he could not imagine what. Anxiety clenched his chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs. It came down to the Isriq Genii; he was almost certain of it. Where was that damnable dagger?

  A breeze brushed past him. Varun ground his teeth and shook his head. He had to have imagined the wind’s spiteful little slap. Ashe was not on the deck, and the air was not some kind of anthropomorphic being that hated his guts, like Jinn did.

  Right?

  Waves sloshed unexpectedly, their white caps spilling sea foam over the deck of the Veritas. The whistle of the wind sounded too much like a chuckle. Varun cursed under his breath. Perhaps he should get indoors before a grumpy tidal wave accidentally washed him overboard.

  For a moment, he considered joining the crew in the mess hall, but instead, he turned toward the bridge. Varun paused at the doorway, careful not to intrude on Ashe’s domain. She stood at the controls, with the ship’s navigator, Meifeng, their backs to him.

  The Chinese man frowned as he pointed to something on the screen. “This is in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing there—except for a bit of rock.”

  Jinn, perched on Ashe’s shoulder, squawked, “That’s where we’re headed.”

  Meifeng shrugged. “As you say. As long as we have enough fuel and food to get there and back.” His frown deepened. “It’s not even along any shipping routes, captain. Are you sure? If we’re in distress, help could be a long way from coming.”

  “That’s where we’re headed.” The parrot’s tone, no doubt reflecting Ashe’s voice, was steely.

  “Got it, captain.”

  Ashe did not turn around. Jinn, however, flared his gray wings. His hooked beak clicked repeatedly. “What do you want, Varun?”

  Varun took it as an invitation to enter. He joined Ashe and Meifeng at the ship’s control panel, and studied the marked location on the map—a tiny spot in the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Varun gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. It was likely best not to comment on the location. Ashe was probably not up for a debate on why Atlantis was not where he thought it should have been. Instead, Varun said, “She’s resting.”

  “Fine.” Ashe’s fingers snapped back a reply an instant before he wondered why he even bothered giving Ashe an update on Ondine. He knew, all too well, how any mention of his girlfriend irritated Ashe. Ondine’s bitchy sniping about Ashe’s occasionally inexplicable ways of getting things accomplished kept the crew on edge.

  But then again, if Ashe had set the wind and waves on him, this was his only way of getting even, however childish. Concealing a smile, Varun continued. “Corey says her wound is clean and healing nicely. He listened with his stethoscope for a while and says there’s no indication of any problem with her breathing or heartbeat. It doesn’t mean she’s entirely in the clear and that there are no bubbles in her blood vessels, but for now, she seems all right.”

  Jinn’s beady black eyes narrowed on Ashe’s behalf. “She would have been safer on Kalymnos.”

  “Perhaps, but she would have driven my parents nuts.”

  Ashe turned to look at Varun. Her eyebrow arched.

  Varun shrugged. “Ondine was trying too hard at dinner. She really doesn’t do sweet, at least not for long. It’s just not her style. My mother has an antenna for people like that.”

  Jinn’s neck feathers ruffled as Ashe’s fingers flicked out a question. “People like what?”

  “People who aren’t their real selves.”

  Their eyes met. Ashe’s narrowed.

  Varun kept his innocently wide.

  He changed the topic deliberately. “How long until we get there?”

  Meifeng tapped the control panel. “About six days, assuming the weather holds.”

  Considering the Veritas was captained by an elemental, Varun did not expect the weather to merely hold. He expected the fullest cooperation of the wind and the waves. The journey would be shorter than everyone, except Ashe, expected. Before he stepped out of the bridge, Varun glanced at the map and committed the red location marker to memory. He would have just enough time to dig up whatever information he could find on that rocky islet—

  Drawn by a faint motion, Varun’s gaze flicked to Ashe. Almost concealed by the drape of her sleeves, her fingers tensed and flexed like talons.

  That barely perceptible motion shocked him into a retreat.

  Back in his small cabin, Varun locked the door before sagging against the wall. A muscle twitched in his cheek. His heart thudded, once again inundated with nameless fear. The Isriq Genii was still out there. More likely than not, Ashe had retrieved the blade from the ocean’s depths. Presumably, Varun was still a viable target for that soul-stealing dagger.

  Ashe’s son was everything to her. Varun saw the truth in her eyes and heard it in her voice.

  He, on the other hand, was just an annoying marine biologist who asked too many questions.

  Ashe had hesitated once; she had withheld the killing strike. The second time, she might not.

  The truth scalded him. They were allies, but he could not count on Ashe for anything. Not even his life.

  Chapter 8

  The rocky cluster of islands in the vastness of the Atlantic was too insignificant to deserve a name and too remote to be of interest to any nation. Varun had scoured the internet for any related information but found only one brief mention of a distress call from a ship almost a hundred years earlier. The garbled message stated that the ship had been attacked and was taking on water. There was no mention of who or what the attacker was.

  Varun tracked down the static-damaged message and listened to it sev
eral times, trying to decipher the fear-charged broadcast, but only managed to make out, “They’re coming for us…kill us all.” The ship, according to other maritime records, never made it back to port and was reported lost at sea with all hands on board.

  What was Ashe taking the crew of the Veritas toward?

  Not their death, at least not intentionally. Of that much, Varun was certain. Ashe had brought the Veritas along only to ferry Varun to Atlantis. His inability to become as invisible and swift as the wind was obviously cramping her style.

  And yet she had brought him along, in spite of the escalated risks and vastly increased inconvenience to herself.

  Because he had asked. A deceptively simple, although outrageous, request, immediately granted.

  Why?

  In quiet moments, when he could think past his skittering fear, he realized that Ashe’s actions made no sense. If she had found the Isriq Genii and wanted to kill him, she could have done so anywhere. She did not need to drag him along to Atlantis. The fact that he was not dead—yet—seemed like a promising start, but provided no answers.

  Varun frowned thoughtfully as he leaned back in his chair. The quiet of his research laboratory surrounded him. The water in the marine holding tanks lapped quietly against steel walls, the soft sound soothing. Why would a Daughter of Air saddle herself with a human?

  What could she accomplish with him that she could not on her own?

  If there was something on that list, he was not aware of it. On her own, in her truest form—air—Ashe was infinitely powerful. Her human form was limited, however, perhaps more so than his.

  He had seen her sit on the deck each night and kick off her boots to massage her blistered feet.

  Varun frowned. It did not make any sense. Couldn’t she define the physical form she wanted? Why did it still have to be mute? Why were her feet still blistered?