Bride of the Sea Monster (Welcome to Hell Book 9) Page 2

  “What else are you going to do? Mope in the Styx?” He pointed at the dark waters. “Or live in paradise, your life full of purpose.”

  “Doing your dirty work,” Uncle muttered.

  I glanced out at the dark swells of the Styx and thought of my father who rarely surfaced from the deep. The male who might just try and kill me for territory like he’d murdered Grandad. Even if he didn’t, I knew of the battles amongst the other monsters over food and space.

  “Tell you what, boy, don’t decide right away. Check out the place in person.” Lucifer held out his hand and, lying on his palm, was a brochure.

  I snorted as I read the title. “Hold on to your pointed hat, witches, because Hell Cruise is offering an adventure on the high seas experience Earth side.’ You can’t be serious.”

  “Don’t scoff. The Sushi Lover is about to go on its maiden voyage through the tropics. And I’ve booked you a first-class suite.”

  My uncle blurted out, “Bullshit. You are too cheap to cough up that kind of dough.”

  The devil flicked his cape. It got caught on the massive pommel of his sword. “I might have gotten a rebate on the trip once I told them who the ticket was for. Adexios is the captain.”

  The mention had me chuckling. “You gave him a ship? We both know my cousin will probably find the only iceberg in the tropics and sink the vessel.”

  “Which won’t hurt you one bit,” Lucifer remarked. “Think of it. A few days of rest and relaxation, scouting out a new place to call your own… There’s a bay of hot mermaids that might provide you with a little something-something.” The devil winked.

  “Clear waters?” I thought of my pool covered by a dome to protect it from the sifting ash of Hell. How I loved seeing the plants I grew in there, the bright, darting colors of the fish.

  “The clearest. Islands dot the area. There is plenty of coral and caverns. Why, you could have more than one lair if you want.”

  “And I only have to sink some ships?” Kind of sounded fun. I’d not had many opportunities as my kraken self to destroy things. With the anger brewing in me, I might need an outlet to vent.

  “You can’t be thinking of agreeing,” Uncle grumbled. “That’s just giving up.”

  Lucifer snorted. “It’s called thinking ahead. Not something I always recommend because it leads to good things.”

  Shax frowned. “I don’t like the idea of Killian going alone.”

  “I would never think of it, which is why you also have a cabin.” A pair of tickets appeared in the devil’s hand. How convenient and predictable. Tempting, too.

  “What if I say no?” I asked.

  “Then in just over a week, you’ll be moping at the bottom of the river, wishing you’d taken me up on my offer of a last hurrah and the chance to be a master in paradise.”

  I thumbed through the brochure. I wasn’t interested in the games or the shows, but I did eye the casino with interest. “It stops at Atlantis?”

  “Yes, and no,” Lucifer hedged.

  “Explain.” Shax crossed his arms. Must be nice to be old enough that you could disrespect the devil.

  “Atlantis has a tendency to move. There one moment, sinking the next, then reappearing elsewhere.” Lucifer shrugged.

  “But there’s a chance we’ll see it,” Uncle Shax mused aloud. “I’ve always been curious about the lost city, especially since the Atlanteans are renowned for their library.”

  “Ugh, reading on vacation.” Lucifer made a moue of distaste.

  On the other hand, I knew what my uncle truly meant. Atlantis had a huge library of magical books—aka, they might have an alternate solution to my curse.

  “We’ll go.” Shax snatched the tickets.

  I blinked at the speed of the grab. “Do I get a say in this?”

  The stereo, “No,” had me shaking my head.

  “Guess I’m going on a cruise.”

  Never saw that coming.

  2

  Sasha: I should have seen it coming.

  The Future: Sucker.

  For a supposed seer of the future, I never caught even a hint. It arrived in my mailbox, smelling of the salty sea with a return address I didn’t recognize.

  Curious, I ripped open the envelope, read the letter, and laughed.

  Laughed way too hard.

  Then I called my dad.

  “I knew you were going to call,” he said, answering without a hello.

  “Then you know why I’m calling.” Conversations with my dad’s side of the family could be interesting because we often knew what the other would say. I’d been at family gatherings were we only stared at one another and then parted, having caught up without saying a word.

  “You got a letter.”

  “I did. It says the most ridiculous thing. It claims I need to marry a guy to break a curse.”

  My father cleared his throat. “It’s true.”

  “Since when am I a cure? And what curse?”

  “Judging by your tone of voice, I’m going to assume we forgot to tell you about it.”

  “Ya think?” Sarcasm, a close friend of mine.

  “Didn’t think it was that important. It began ages before even your grandfather was born. I wondered if that boy would find you.

  “What boy?”

  “The one who showed up on my doorstep. Your betrothed.”

  “We are not betrothed because I am not marrying some stranger.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  I ignored my father’s ominous tone. “How is it I’ve never heard of this so-called curse?”

  “Because it’s never come up.”

  “Which begs the question, why now?”

  “Because all things come to an end. That boy, last of his line, will end up like the rest of his family just after the next full moon.”

  “Is he going to die?” I had to ask. Because the letter made it sound dire.

  Dear Ms. Farseer,

  We are strangers, and yet our fates are intertwined. For you see, my nephew suffers from a curse. One that you can break. His life is in grave jeopardy, and the only thing that can help is if you marry him. And soon. My nephew’s life depends on it.

  I realize this might be shocking, and your first instinct will be to refuse. Yet before you do, I ask that you meet with my nephew. He’s a good man who deserves a chance to escape the fate of his forbearers.

  Signed,

  Hopefully your soon-to-be uncle, Shax.

  “No, the boy won’t die. But he will become a monster for life.”

  “And you want me to marry him?”

  “Well, our family did curse his. Seems only right we fix it.”

  “What about my life?” I yelled as I mashed the missive and tossed it.

  My father tsked. “Really, Sasha. Such melodrama. You’ve had your entire life to prepare for this moment.”

  “No, I haven’t, because you didn’t tell me this was a possibility, and I never saw it.” Not a hint. No clue. Nothing.

  “There are worse things than being married to a kraken.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me? What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” my father mumbled. “I need to go. Someone is about to ring the doorbell.”

  “Coward!”

  “If it makes you feel better, several of the futures I saw, show you happy.”

  “Happily married to a sea monster?”

  “Give it a try. You might be surprised.”

  “I can’t believe you’re advocating this.” Spoken to dead air. My dad had hung up.

  I cursed, loudly and imaginatively.

  Since I’d already seen my friend arriving, I didn’t need the warning chime of bells that jangled when someone entered the shop, Fortunes, Curses, and the Best Souvlaki. That wasn’t a boast. I used a special blend of herbs on some pork-like meat, then slow-roasted it over coals and served it over a bed of rice with a Greek salad and tzatziki sauce. I made more money with the food than the fortune telling. At times, I wondered why I didn’t make the switch to full-time restaurant.

  “You do realize I could hear you shrieking all the way in my office?” Ysabel noted, looking as prim and proper as ever. As Lucifer’s secretary, she took her role seriously. She’d recently added glasses and done up her hair in a chignon to truly complete her look. It might have looked smarter without the baby spit-up on her shoulder. It seemed everyone in Hell was popping out babies these days.

  “I won’t do it!”

  “Do what?” she asked.

  “Marry some monster. It’s not my fault my ancestors cursed a family a gazillion years ago. They probably deserved it.”

  “You’re getting married and didn’t tell me?” The affront on her face meant I had to fetch the letter and smooth it out.

  “Check out what I got in the mail. Some dude begging me to marry his nephew to save his life.”

  “Oooh, that sounds positively medieval. Give me a peek.” Ysabel snared the letter, read it once, frowned, then reread it before eyeing me. “I take it congrats aren’t in order?”

  I exploded. “Oh, no. Not happening. Over my dead body.”

  “Do not say that loudly. You know Lucifer’s lawyers can have that arranged.”

  “I won’t marry him,” I huffed.

  “Even if you can save him?”

  “Not happening. I am not marrying a sea monster.”

  “You’re making assumptions,” Ysabel noted.

  “Dad said he was a kraken. And his name is Killian Kraken.” I pointed to the bottom where the letter finished with.

  …It is my sincere hope you’ll come to our aid. My nephew’s name is….

  Followed by an address in the fifth ring.

  “Maybe he’s handsome.”

  “He’s a beast.”

&n
bsp; “So what if he is? Appearances don’t mean everything. Look at my Remy. Big, tough demon on the outside, gooey marshmallow on the inside.”

  “Your Remy is a stud who could make a fortune dancing on stage.”

  Ysabel frowned. “Did you just call my husband handsome?”

  Given my friend’s jealous streak, I knew to quickly defuse her by saying, “He’s much too pretty and muscled. Ick. Ew.”

  At that, Ysabel sniffed. “Well, if you’re going to be that picky about your men, no wonder you won’t even contemplate this marriage.”

  “It’s blackmail.”

  “So you won’t even give him a chance?”

  “A chance for what? To get crushed by tentacles and a mouth big enough to swallow ships?”

  “Making a lot of generalizations there, Sasha. Could be he’s a nice guy.”

  “Don’t care. He’s not the one I’m supposed to marry.” Because I’d seen the future. And my babies didn’t have tentacles. Now, if only my ability would show me my husband’s face and maybe hint at his name. Then I could skip this whole dating bullshit and move right to the fun part.

  I tore up the letter.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cancelling the engagement before it even happens. I won’t marry a stranger.”

  I swear the universe took note of my words and saved them to screw me over later.

  But first, it offered me some gentle lube in the form of a pamphlet currently being waved by Ysabel.

  “What’s that?”

  “The real reason I came for a visit. It’s an extra ticket for the upcoming Hell Cruise, adventures on the high seas edition, coasting through the Bermuda Triangle.”

  “Isn’t that Earth-side?”

  Ysabel nodded. “It’s right smack dab in the middle of the tropics, and I got you a ticket.”

  “Why?” I frowned, especially since I’d not seen a cruise in my future. Although, I did recall seeing some water, lots of it. It might explain why I’d had an urge to splurge on a new bathing suit last week.

  “Lucifer ordered a bunch of tickets for his minions, except he miscounted. So, we ended up with a few extras. He told me I could take one, but the baby is too young for that kind of travel, which almost made Remy cry. Since I can’t use the ticket, I’m giving it to you.”

  I hesitated. “Given my current sea monster problem, is it wise for me to travel on an ocean?”

  Ysabel laughed. “Please. Everyone knows there are no kraken left on Earth. It will be perfectly safe. You’ll see.”

  Why then could I hear the ominous strains of the wedding march playing?

  3

  Killian Kraken: Just keep the drinks coming.

  By the time I readied to leave for the cruise, we’d still not received a reply to my uncle’s letter. Not that I’d expected one.

  I couldn’t blame the woman for ignoring my plight. She didn’t know me. She didn’t care about my future or lack thereof. Even if she did, there were so many other factors in play.

  Who the fuck created such a curse in the first place? One that could only be broken if I married a descendant of the family we’d supposedly wronged? And not just wed. She truly had to love me.

  It wasn’t fair. Meanwhile, the clock ticked. My birthday getting closer and closer. The itch to slip into the sea and remain got stronger and stronger. Soaking in a bath with essential oils just wasn’t cutting it anymore. For breakfast, I slurped down a couple of live fish and then chased them with caffeine-infused pond water. All the teeth brushing in the world couldn’t stop the wiggling in my stomach. Or the smirking laughter in my head.

  Wiggly yummy in our tummy.

  With little time left, I welcomed the cruise and a chance to have some fun.

  “Ready to start the fun?” asked my uncle Shax with false gaiety.

  He’d become tight-lipped and secretive the last few days. I knew he’d regained a bit of hope at the news that we’d visit Atlantis. Not me. It was time to accept my fate.

  Bags in hand, we headed for the departure zone right off the main dock. We lined up with the other peons for the temporal rip that would deposit us on the ship. Exiting in bright sunlight, I squinted and noticed that we stood on a deck—the highest one of the massive ship—a landing zone for the portals and incoming flying passengers.

  Seeing a pair of witches atop brooms arriving, I quickly moved out of the way, especially since they seemed to drag cloud cover with them.

  It didn’t take long to be shown to my suite, an upper-level room with a sitting area, a private bedroom, and a balcony. I spent a moment out there just smelling the sea. Similar and yet different from the Styx and the sea beyond in Hell. For one, there wasn’t any ash in the air here. No hint of brimstone. Just the brine of the waves and the faint whiff of the smoke stack for the ship. And marijuana?

  I glanced over at the other balcony and saw my uncle puffing away. “We haven’t even left port yet.”

  “Don’t nag. I need the courage.”

  “For?” I prodded.

  Shax grimaced. “Dorothy is on board.”

  My brows rose. My uncle had been single for as long as I’d known him. Despite his sob story of his long-lost true love, I had kind of assumed that he had no interest in relationships. “You planning to rekindle things?”

  “I’m sure there will be something on fire. Possibly my hair. Given how things abruptly ended between us, I am thinking I should make amends.”

  “You, apologize for something?” I’d believe it only if I saw it.

  “It’s never too late for love, Killian.”

  Maybe for Shax, who still had centuries ahead of him. I only had days at this point. I could feel the beast inside me rumbling. It wouldn’t be long before I’d have to go for another dip and soothe the cold itch. But first…the brochure had said there was a casino on board. And I had a fortune to waste.

  After a short dinner where I met my uncle’s old flame, a lady who’d not aged as well as he had, I fled for the gambling den on board. The noise of the slot machines overwhelmed the angst in my mind, the bright lights far from the soothing, muted colors of the ocean. I bought a huge pile of chips, planted my ass at the roulette table, and began to lose my money.

  Of course, gambling should involve drinking. Lots of it. Each time I lost, I drank. I had a generous buzz going by the time I saw her.

  Picture snug jeans hugging a petite frame, the waist low enough to show her navel piercing. Her hair, pure platinum strands, was cut in a messy shag that suited her pixie features. The jeweled stud in her nose only served to draw attention to her big eyes and fine complexion.

  She appeared almost as drunk as I was, sipping on something blue with an umbrella sticking out of it. Rather than play the slots, she watched, nodding to herself, sometimes shaking her head as if silently rebuking the bets of other players.

  When someone jostled her, I half rose from my seat, a growl rumbling at my lips. She must have heard or seen something because she swept a startled gaze over me. Followed by a frown.

  She neared me enough to ask, “Do we know each other?”

  “No, but I’d like to,” I declared boldly. “I’m Ian.” The name I chose to use, feeling it was more modern.

  She snorted. “Not interested. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Neither am I.” However, I was just drunk and maudlin enough to want someone to hold one last time. A chance to grab pleasure while I still could.

  “Are you winning?” she asked, pointing to my pile of chips. A stack that had dwindled in size since I started.

  “Nope. Story of my life, nothing but bad luck.” I shoved a chunk of chips onto number thirteen black, and she was silent by my side as the little ball bounced and bounced and popped into black thirteen. For a moment, there was a hiccup of elation, then the let down when the ball jostled into the spot beside it with a plink.

  “Bummer,” she declared.

  “Not when you’re used to it.”

  The woman leaned down, the scent of her surrounding me, teasing my senses. “Play number three next.”

  Since I’d lose with or without her help, I placed the bet. Her fingers rested on my shoulder, the feel of them noticeable, and—in spite of the alcohol—cock-hardening. Was I so desperate in these final hours that any kind of touch would affect me?