MERCILESS (The Mermen Trilogy #3) (6 page)

Roen was a smart, smart man.
Don’t hide the island, just treat it like your private, secluded getaway. Trespassers unwelcome.

“Miss Stratton?” the female pilot—a Judy or Janna something—said over the intercom. “We see a landing strip.”

What the hell
? Liv rushed from the cabin into the cockpit. The pilot pointed straight ahead toward a long strip of cleared land. The sun was just now dipping into the water toward the west straight ahead, making it difficult to see clearly, but yeah, there it was: the island. Not hidden. Not spewing its odd-looking mirage of lights that made it nearly invisible.

Jesus
, the island was right there. Was it welcoming her back where it intended to finish her off once and for all?

What if it knows I killed Shane?

Liv whooshed out a breath and smoothed her hands over the top of her head and down her ponytail. The Shane piece of this was something she’d not thought of. Not even once.

Doesn’t matter now, Liv. You’re here.
She was just thankful she wasn’t going to have to jump from the damned plane. Yes, Cherie, upon Liv’s request, had arranged for a skydiving instructor to be on board. It was amazing what money could buy, including a two-hour private lesson by a man that had been paid not to question Liv’s sanity for planning to actually jump alone her first time. But the way Liv saw it, the dire situation called for dire measures.

“Take us down,” Liv said to the pilot. “But once I’m off the plane, you need to get back in the air and as far away as possible. Understand?”

The pilot gave her an odd look.

“It’s not safe here for you,” she clarified.

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that the people who live here don’t like strangers.” And there was a distinct possibility that they’d kill her on sight.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Oh shit.” The moment Liv stepped off the plane, she knew something was wrong. Yes, the entire island was the poster child for wrong, but this time the island looked…different. The trees were dead—brown, dried-out skeletons without leaves or needles—the ground lacked any vegetation or moisture, and the snowcapped mountain at the center was nothing but rocks. No more snow.

It looked like someone had dropped an A-bomb on the place and obliterated all signs of life.

As the plane soared overhead, she watched it fade into the sunset along with the last rays of sunlight. A hard shiver swept over her body, making her wish she’d worn something other than a blue T-shirt and cargo shorts.
A suit of armor would’ve been nice.
She’d never been so afraid. Because, as if the island weren’t scary enough, now it screamed death, too.

It’s like the world’s worst resort decided to team up with hell to create a magical getaway.
Even the smell in the air was wrong—a foul musk mixed with sour seawater.

She turned on her new sat phone—compliments of Cherie, who was like a damned magic genie—and then dug out the flashlight from her backpack. Liv had brought as many supplies as she could carry—tons of fresh bottled water, a small blanket, and snacks from the plane. She threw on the pack and started for Roen’s house, which was a huge two-story modern mansion perched on a hill not too far from that creepy mountain at the center of the island.

She flipped on the flashlight and started walking into the desiccated forest. Suddenly, the air filled with familiar howls and cries.

Oh God. The maids.
The sound put a permanent chill in her bones, but her fear of this island was far greater than anything else. It had abilities that defied reason—the power to influence people, the ability to think and produce that strange healing water. It could control the environment around it and kill people who were thousands of miles away. Roen had once tried to explain how she did her tricks, but none of that mattered. The facts were the facts: This place was alive and psychotic.

Liv’s footsteps made loud crunching sounds as she made her way through what was once a dense forest of pine trees. Half had fallen to the ground as if blown over by a storm, forcing her to climb over trunks as thick as four feet or crawl under the ones that leaned together. All the while, her head and heart said the same thing:
This place is dead. Everything is dead.

What the hell had happened?

As crazy as it sounded, she believed the island fed off of Roen’s people. It was an assumption, but given her years of studying cultural anthropology and sociology, the island’s tactics—the way she manipulated and tried to keep the mermen from leaving at any cost—smelled suspiciously close to dependence. Then, during her last “visit,” she’d been reading through one of the many, many books in their archives. There was a story about how Roen’s people once had gifts and abilities that were strangely similar to the island’s—the ability to manipulate the environment around them, for example. Liv suspected that the island was more like a parasite and needed them to survive. Not the other way around.

So was the island dying of starvation somehow? And what had happened to all of the men? She had yet to see one single merman. For the record, these were not the sorts of men you’d stumble past and not notice. Most were around seven feet tall, and they had stunning green eyes and huge, chiseled bodies. Some had their unbelievably ripped torsos covered in tattoos—fish scales, sea monsters, tridents, and other symbols—and they didn’t wear a stitch except for a piece of cloth around their waists. As for hygiene, they didn’t care much for that. Not that they smelled bad—to the contrary, they smelled…well, pretty enticing, actually. All part of their “charming” attributes meant to lull and seduce human women. Nevertheless, they weren’t too big on cutting or brushing their hair and they swam a lot. Dreads were the standard look. It all combined into one very intimidating and noticeable package.

You could spot a merman from a mile away.

Liv arrived at the bottom of the steps that led up to Roen’s modern-day palace perched on a hill.
Please, please, please let him be okay.
Flashlight shaking in her hand, Liv cautiously climbed and then approached the front door. A sliver of light came from a small crack underneath the thick, hand-carved door embossed with symbols of serpents and fish.

She carefully opened the door and noticed that everything looked just as clean and absurdly stylish as the last time she’d been here. The air, however, had a different vibe.

Despair.
The house was filled with it.

Liv tiptoed through the opulent foyer—expensive crystal chandelier and brown-and-white marble flooring—and up the stairs that led to Roen’s master suite.

There wasn’t a sound in the home except for the wood floor creaking beneath her feet as she made her way down the long hallway lined with doors. Most led to very nice guest rooms, one of which she’d stayed in with Roen once.

She turned the corner and found Roen’s double bedroom doors wide open, the space dark inside. She flipped on the lights and saw his bed—a huge extra-long king-sized thing with four posts—covered in dried blood.
Oh shit.
Her heart constricted with painful worry. The rest of the large suite—rich upholstered furniture, dark stained wood flooring and stone fireplace—looked immaculate.

No struggle. Nobody home. Nobody dead either—thank goodness. But where had they all gone?

She pushed the heels of her hands against her lids, trying to fight back her tears of frustration and worry. Perhaps they were in the Great Hall at the heart of the mountain.

Either that or in their homes.
There were a few hundred cottages and cabins sprinkled around the island.

I’ll start with the Great Hall
. Much more preferable to running around in that Tim Burton forest at night.

She turned to leave and heard a faint groan.
What was that?
She held her breath, listening for the source, but the sound didn’t repeat.

“Roen? Roen! Is that you?” She sprinted down the hallway and began pushing open the doors to the guest rooms, turning on all the lights. She found room after room empty.

“Roen!” Frantic, she ran back to his room and then heard the groan again. It was coming from the bathroom.

Fuck. Fuck. Please be him.
She rushed inside and flipped on the lights. A large form lay face down in a pool of dried blood. She quickly kneeled and flipped him over.

It was Roen. “Oh my God. What happened to you?” She didn’t know what to do. He had dark spots all over his face, torso, and neck. What was it? A plague? Roen’s beautiful lips were chapped and cracked, and he had blood matted in his chin-length, brown hair. The rest of his skin was pale and damp with sweat.

Liv then glanced at his shoulder, the bandages soaked with blood.
Dear Lord,
there was an entire piece of his shoulder missing. He looked like he might die any second.

“Roen. Roen, can you talk? Do you have any water?” The sacred water worked on him. It worked on all of the men from the island. One sip would heal a fatal wound.

Roen groaned. “Liv, you’ve come to take me.”

Take him where? “No. I need to get you water. Is there any here?”

Roen didn’t respond.

“Fight, Roen. Do you hear me, you bastard? Fight!”

He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. She stood up and started thinking. There had to be water around here somewhere. Even if it was just a drop, something to keep him from dying.

She began looking around his immaculate room. He had papers and contracts piled up on his dresser and only a few outfits and personal items in the closet—his human-world clothes.

I have to find him water.

Liv snagged a pillow and the plush burgundy blanket from Roen’s bed. She returned to Roen and tried to get as much of the blanket around him and underneath him as possible. As she gently lifted his head, sliding the pillow underneath, she kissed his lips. It didn’t matter what was wrong with him—mer-bola or bubonic mer-plague—she needed to feel his lips again.

“Don’t you dare die on me, merman,” she whispered. “You still owe me.” Yes, she referred to sex. They still hadn’t slept together—a very, very huge oversight on both their parts. But since the day they’d met, roughly four months ago, their life together had been chaos. Still, the moment she saw him, she’d wanted and never stopped wanting him. She knew he felt the same. So on the off chance he could hear her, the promise of hot sex could only encourage the man to hang on. Right?

Liv rushed downstairs and stopped at the front door, looking over her shoulder. She didn’t want to leave him. What if he died while she was gone looking for water?

She took a deep breath.
You have no choice. You have to go find him some water.
She bolted out into the dark night, praying she wouldn’t run into any hungry maids or angry mermen on her way to the Great Hall.

~~~

Roen was ready to let go now, feeling comforted by knowing that their folklore had been true. His people believed that when a merman died, he would be united in the afterlife with his mate. That had to be why Liv was there. She’d come to take him so they’d finally be together, free from pain and the island.

But why then was she telling him to fight to stay alive?

“Liv,” he mumbled, “no more fighting. I’m ready…”

CHAPTER SIX

The Great Hall. Liv had never been more petrified of any place on earth. It was a giant cavern with soaring ceilings and a deadly chill in the air, where the mermen’s sacred water trickled from the stone walls and collected in pools toward the back. That, in itself, wasn’t all that scary. But the place had an evil, sick vibe. It was where they held violent, bloody ceremonies and many people were killed. For her, however, this would always be the place where she’d been forced to watch as Roen almost died, fighting for control of the island and for her life. By some miracle, he’d won that day and had gotten her home, but she’d never forget the moment she thought she’d lost Roen, helpless to do anything about it.

Well, now she was in a position to do something. She would not let him die even if it meant facing her biggest fears.

Liv took a breath and entered the dark, massive cavern. The smell of mold and darkness hit her nose. She winced. “Hello?” A few wooden chairs lay toppled over on the stone floor. The throne where the leader usually sat was empty, as were a few wooden tables. Blood stained the floor in small pools.

Liv shivered.

The last time she’d been in here, there were men going mad, clawing out their eyes from pain as the island punished their disobediences. They’d finally risen up against her and she hadn’t liked it one little bit.

Liv walked over to one of the gray stone walls and ran her hands along the surface. Bone dry.

“Come. On!” The clock was ticking on Roen’s life.
Think. Think. Think
. Where else had she seen water?

Liv rubbed her eyes with one hand. That doctor, a redheaded man named Holden, had a supply, but she wasn’t sure where his home was.

Okay. All of the men probably keep a stash
. She’d have to follow the trail down the mountain and search whatever homes she found.

Liv suddenly felt a cold breath on the back of her neck. “Crap!” She swiveled on her heel, shining the flashlight around the room, but it was empty. “I know you’re there, Crazy Dirt! I know you’re watching me! And you’re not going to win. I won’t fucking let you kill Roen.”

Liv waited for a response, but there was nothing except the eerie silence.

“I hope that means you’re too weak to talk and dying a horrible death.” But as Liv said those words, she realized that maybe the island’s condition had something to do with Roen being sick.

Oh God. I hope this doesn’t mean I have to save the island.
The thought of lifting a finger for her made Liv violently ill.

Don’t start making up more problems. Go find water.

~~~

Liv had been prepared to see dead, dying, or more sick men. She’d been prepared to see hungry maids (and run from them). She’d been prepared to go through every dwelling she could find, searching for water, and go all night if she had to. But she had not been prepared to see this.