Rise of the Sea Witch (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles, #1)

by Stacey Rourke

The woman staring back at me is positively voluptuous with power, mayhem swirling within her clay-gray eyes.

tensed at the sight of a dozen strapping members of the guard circling his chair. Unlike my clueless brother, I knew exactly what was coming next, and it made the sting of rejection burn through my veins with a potency that paled to the most venomous Stonefish.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there.”

“It was smart to wait until I was emotionally invested before letting me see this side of your crazy.”

Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes and did the unthinkable. Retracting the fingers of my spell, I used the pearl to riffle through the essences on that beach for that one particular voice. I found him in a sweeping cyclone of magic, his legs about to be stolen from him, bruises and scrapes decorating every inch of his flesh. A horde of humans, with their weapons drawn, eagerly awaited his vulnerable moment. As the angry mob stormed my parlor, I drew my strength into my core. With one final, exhausted push, I gifted Alastor every magical charm I had left. My only hope being it would be adequate enough to get him home.

Reluctantly, I let them pull me, the cold stone scraping over my skin as it thrust me headlong into freedom. My boys shepherded me along, swimming behind me to urge me on whenever my speed or motivation faded. The water grew darker the farther from the hub of Atlantica that we swam, the chorus of voices fading to a haunting echo. On a constant swivel, my head turned to all I was leaving behind. My heart cracked and crumbled a little more with every flap of my tail.

“Sense?” he giggled, his bulbous eyes rolling skyward as if such a concept bored him. “That’s nothing more than a somber illusion created to squash imagination.”

“They were going to kill you!” I screamed, matching his intensity. “What should I have done, Triton? You tell me!” “You should have let me die for my people!” Perched at the edge of his pedestal, a pulsating vein throbbed at Triton’s temple. “That is my place! That is my duty! All those lives that were lost, do you not realize I would lay down my life here and now to bring them back? You robbed me of that choice. Denied me the right to honor my people in the noblest way a king ever could!” “How could I do that? You are my brother and I love you!” “I am your king!” he roared, silencing the room.

“Whoever it is you’re waiting for, remember … once you’ve given your heart, it’s a hard treasure to reclaim.”

He was a beacon of emotional neutrality. Cold and unfeeling as stone—at least on the surface. I envied his stoicism. Emotion had me leaking out every orifice of my face.

They had taken so much. Tortured me. Mutilated me. Robbed me of my identity. Now … it was my turn.

“Easy, boys,” I purred to my captives. “Get a lady’s consent before you start the manhandling.”

“stand down. No one needs to get hurt. This isn’t you.” “Isn’t me?” a ragged scream tore from my throat, hoarse with emotion. “No. It’s who you made me! Your hand sculpted my fate. My apologies if you find your handiwork unsettling.”

Not wanting them to stumble onto their weapons, I whisked those pesky items off to my alchemist parlor with little more than a passing thought. Then, I set to my deliciously fun task. Weaving between the soldiers, I brushed an arm here, grazed a cheek there. I was the unseen ghost whose presence prickled down their spines. This brilliantly maniacal waltz ended when I found myself nose to nose with Doralious. Unlike the others, he didn’t yelp or start in surprise. “We were friends once.” Lips pulling from his teeth in disdain, Doralious’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “Do you forget that, witch?” One stroke of my tentacles and I swirled around him, causing him to spin to keep up. “We were friends,” I agreed. “Then, you turned on me when I needed an ally the most. Your priority became asserting yourself as the premiere henchmen to the throne by withering my spirit whenever we shared a space.”

I was unprepared for the ruthless fashion in which the devastation had robbed my entire appearance of its vibrant pallet. Long, flowing raven hair drained to a dull platinum. A once creamy complexion had taken on the shade of an overcast day. Bright violet eyes I inherited from my mother blinked back a steely gray. Hands trembling with the shock, I pinched my cheeks to give them a dash a color. It helped … a little. Extracting a petal from a sea flower my boys had generously supplied, I painted my lips a brilliant red. The girl staring back at me would never be what she once was. On the other hand, there was nothing saying she couldn’t be … better. Fabulous even. Spying my fencing sword propped against the wall, my hand instinctively closed around the hilt. Twisting my bleached locks into a knot on top of my head, I administered one quick swipe of my blade. All that remained of Vanessa was sliced away, drifting off on a passing current. Curling my fingers into my short-sheared hair, I gave a pull here and a tug there. The strands darted off my head in a messy disarray. Sucking in my cheeks, I turned my head one way then the other, admiring the end result. It was new. It was unexpected. It was … fierce.

I felt the scabbed wound on my heart tear open. He had only been mine for a moment, yet I held no doubt I would ache for him eternally. With him, I was safe. I was beautiful. I was home.