“This water is disgusting, full of poison and man dirt. I can’t drink it, eat from it or even get clean. It’s good for the rats, good for the dead and nothing else.”
“Then why stay?” Bray asked, slowly circling the takwich which was dressed in a police uniform.
“Needs must. But not for long. Keep close, he tells me. But the sea calls to me, singing from the deep blue, yet I’ve a song for myself to sing before I leave.”
Bray looked down on the shark like eyes of the sea witch and forced himself not to shiver as death stared back. “Would it be the song of the leviathan?”
She smiled showing rows of triangular teeth, small yet razor sharp. “A haunting song indeed, the sounds of a leviathan. It carries through the depths, stretching across oceans and echoing for days after. Beautiful - haunting but beautiful.” She patted the space beside her. “Come sit with me Bray, put your feet into the river, feel its motions, its rhythms. For I believe you’ve a more important question to ask than that of the leviathan.”
“You don’t deny that you have a leviathan then? You know it brought down an oil tanker killing hundreds of men.”
“My children must eat. Oil draws them like bees to nectar. If man left it in the ground they’d dig down for it themselves.”
“Children, so there’s more than one?” He spared a glance at the witch, her legs swaying in the water, legs which were now thickening into many tentacles.
“Sixteen children have I. Swimming in this realm’s seas and oceans, surrounding every continent, every landmass.”
“Why?”
“To sing of course, humans can’t appreciate the beauty of the song in the water. They may appreciate it when they sing out of it. By dawn tomorrow their song will smother this planet entirely. Changing it for the better. Now come, sit.” She beckoned him closer with a finger.
“I’m not stupid Neptula, right here’s fine by me,” Bray said, returning his attention to the takwich, its face an unreadable mask.
Diagus needed to hear this. Sixteen huge sea beasts roaming at will, the effects would be devastating and that would be before they sang.
“Let’s play a game of trust and truths, shall we?” asked Neptula, playfully. “I’ll go first as you are my guest.”
Bray noticed movement from the shadows; long tentacles weaving towards him, he ducked and was about to roll when the takwich suddenly screamed. He glanced up, sword raised but was surprised to see a thick blue tentacle, slick with river water wrap around the policeman’s neck, another curled around the arm that held the gun. A heartbeat later the scream was cut short as the tentacle tightened, followed by the snapping sound of the takwich’s neck. The body fell to the floor and was dragged into the water, disappearing into the inky blackness.
“A token of trust, Bray,” Neptula said, smiling wickedly. “Now one from you. Put away your steel and come sit.” She patted the spot next to her again. “I won’t bite.”
Bray hesitated, then re-sheathed his sword and sat beside her, if she was going to kill him she would have done so already. Besides, he still had the jar of nip-crasters.
“Good. Now that you can see I mean you no harm, we can play. A trust for a truth. An answer for an answer, yes? So, ask.”
“Why did you kill the takwich?”
Neptula hissed playfully through her teeth. “I was expecting a bigger question, Shaigun. Like I told you already, a token of trust.”
“So, you don’t work for Silk?” he asked.
“Another question wasted. Tut...tut, you’re really not good at this.” She let out a disappointed sigh. “Silk is merely a puppet who dances to his master’s strings. I... provide a service for the master.”
“Who’s the master?”
Neptula laughed. “A better question, but it’s now my turn. A truth for a truth.” Her black eyes sparkled in the moon’s reflection, deep black circles without any whites. “You know, you’ve an elvish look to you.” Her cold hand traced his face leaving a wet trail behind.
“My mother was an elf. My father a soldier,” he said.
“Half-breed. It’s a truth I suppose but not one I hadn’t worked out for myself. The master’s strings are long. Long enough to reach from his prison on Thea.”
“Who is Silk’s master?” he asked again, feeling impatience.
“For that information I will want more than just knowledge of your parentage. Where is the Shadojak?”
Bray shook his head. “He didn’t tell me.”
“But the girl Elora is with him yes? I can see by the sad look on your face that you are less than happy about that. It is a dreadful shame.”
“My master does as he pleases. It’s not up to me to question him.” The Sea Witch was far too knowing, a fact that irritated him.
“The Pearly White has his reasons I’m sure. Reasons for not keeping his Shaigun close. Does he fear that when he judges the girl you might stop him? Does he know, I wonder, that you have feelings for her that may compromise your loyalty to his blade? It makes sense then, does it not, that he leaves you behind because he wouldn’t leave such a threat alive?”
Bray felt his heart clench, a sudden wave of heat pulsed throughout his body as he realised Diagus’ s intentions. He will kill her, regardless of who she is. Simply because his Shaigun shows feelings towards her. Before he could suppress his anger, he slammed his fist into the floor, cracking concrete and sending bits into the water. He thought it strange at the time, being sent on a separate mission whilst his master travelled elsewhere with Elora. Could he stop him? Was she dead already?
Neptula grinned slyly, her eyes narrowing in pleasure at his obvious discomfort. “Poor little elf man. Tasting the forbidden love for the first time, then having it ripped away from you before you even realise what it was. Her expression changed to one of mock sympathy. “Please feel free to cry. Nothing tastes sweeter than the tears of a broken heart.”
Bray was inwardly hurting but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it. Instead he drew on his training, the months spent learning how to suppress emotions, losing your body’s reactions to what - when all is said and done – was a mere chemical reaction in the brain. He took a mental step away, becoming rock, becoming Shaigun.
He slipped a smile of his own upon his face, curling it into the most menacing grimace he could muster while drawing out the jar of nip-crasters.
Holding it up to the moonlight he slowly turned the glass showing its contents to Neptula. The creatures inside were tiny; bright green fish the size of pinheads, millions of them clustered together with sharp red teeth.
The pleasure dropped from Neptula’s face when she realised what he held.
“The girl is nothing to me,” he lied. “Now tell me, who is Silk’s master? Tell true and I’ll give you a minute’s head start before I drop my little friends.” He suddenly dropped his hand to indicate he wasn’t messing around.
“No, don’t. Please,” pleaded the sea witch, the playfulness vanishing from her with the threat, her eyes locking on the jar. When she didn’t answer, Bray began to unscrew the lid.
