THE CORRIDOR OPENED INTO A CAVERNOUS ROOM, TIERS OF
seating descending to a stage carved from stone and marble. Massive columns held up a scallop-edged roof, sea grass or kelp or something draped from it like cur-tains. One side was tied back—with an octopus? The other side flowed away from the stage in the current, and stone statues lined the concave back of the stage—
But they weren’t just any statues. No, those looked like…
Logan blinked. Easter Island faces?
A cloud of jellyfish circled above the statues with synchronized pulsations, their tentacles swaying from side to side as a swarm of different-colored morays dodged in and out in an other-worldly allemande left.
A large dais made of glass sat at the center of the stage, and on it…
On it was the most amazingly horrific creature Logan had ever seen.
The sea monster. Only… she didn’t look like a monster.
She didn’t look like anything he would have thought a sea monster looked like. Like a giant squid or some-thing. Not this green-haired version of Mae West.
A Mae West with two tails.
Two tails. One green, one blue. Fins tapping against giant clamshells below the dais as if they were footstools.
Receiving plates of… food… as if they were a tribute.
She didn’t look monstrous, but she’d taken his child. That, alone, put her in the death-is-too-good-for-her category.
Sharks flanked each side of the stage where she held court, and sawfish patrolled in front of her, their double-sided bills looking way too lethal for his son to be near. The lionfish standing sentry on the edge of the dais didn’t lessen his concern.
Where was Michael? What had the beast done with him?
The sea monster looked out from her throne, a hid-eous smile on a face that could be beautiful, but wasn’t. Bitterness chilled her eyes, and sarcasm crooked her mouth. An almost palpable anger tightened her shoul-ders, causing her jaw to clench so tightly he thought she’d shatter her teeth.
Then she laughed—a deep, husky cackle—and it skittered all over his nerve endings in an Oscar-worthy Wicked Witch imitation—an apt description. All she needed was the pointed hat and a wart.
Too bad she didn’t melt in water.
She laughed again and, as they descended the steps, Logan saw what she found so enjoyable.
In the depression in front of the stage—an orches¬tra pit if they were on land—the array of tropical fish picked up the tempo of their… dancing? Swirling so fast they should be dizzy when they finally stopped. A pair of stingrays flapped their wings, turning in circles above the fish, and crabs and lobsters clacked their pincers in a bizarre balletic choreography around the outer edge of the performance. A pair of neon green moray eels
undulated across the stage, writhing themselves into and out of a series of knots.
“Oh, cool!”
Logan froze. Beside him, Angel did, too. Michael.
“Get moving.” The barracuda shoved him from be-hind, then circled around to lead them down the stairs.
Logan didn’t need anyone to lead him. His son was here.
He stepped onto one of the stone seats, trying to see where Michael was, but Angel grabbed his hand and pulled him down. Or her up. He didn’t bother to figure out which it was.
“Logan, listen to me. You can’t hope to get out of here alive with Michael unless I distract Ceto. I plan to, but if you hear any rumbling whatsoever, just grab him and get out.”
“Rumbling?”
The barracuda looked back, his lower jaw slung for-ward, the spikes he called teeth glinting in the light from more of those same chandeliers as were in the hallway. Logan took a step down the stairs.
Angel didn’t let go of his arm. “Ceto was a goddess at one point, and while the gods took away most of her powers, she still retains a few—one of them being the ability to cause seaquakes. The Mariana Trench didn’t dig itself, you know. I shudder to think what she could do with this building, so you have to grab Michael and get out.”
Oh he fully intended to. “What about you?”
Angel glared at Ceto. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll meet up with you afterward.”
Q
No she wouldn’t.
Angel knew exactly what would happen when Ceto got that angry.
But she had to fix this. She was the reason Michael was here and she’d get him out alive if it was the last thing she’d ever do.
The reality was, it probably would be.