Chapter Eight

"Where is he?"

Pasha wafted her hand through the water, making her reflection ripple into a grotesque visage, albeit not as unpleasant as her natural form.

Ceto lay back. The first rays of the sun glowed on her skin in rich amber. "Drowned, captive or trapped. Regardless, I have my doubts we will see him break the surface. Ah, well. Not a loss. Not to us at least, although it would have been nice to have those treasures. I'm sure we can find some other fool."

"Maybe," Pasha wrinkled her nose and sank up to her neck in the warming waters. "A mortal would be useless, I fear, but it's intriguing to see them risk their lives for a pretty face."

"Mmm," Ceto hummed and arched into the sun, the light cold in the early breeze of the morning and crafting an erotic spark over her senses. "I suppose we aren't going to inform his family?"

"Why should we?"

Why indeed. It was not up to them to inform humans on the fate of those foolish enough to follow them. They had enough brains to work that out at least.

"If they happen to ask or mention if they are in our presence then I might let them know. As long as they have an offering anyway. I won't give anything out for nothing." Pasha stated frankly, tossing her head. "If they care then they'll agree. If not then so be it. Nothing lost, nothing gained. And who knows? Maybe he'll win over that slut Kayana enough for her to beg his release."

Ceto looked sceptical but nodded. That was unlikely. Karanos might have a heart of stone but Kayana had the wily nature of a jackal. And the claws to match.

---

Demetrius looked up with a start as a metal plate was dropped down before him, followed swiftly by a full bowl that the pup dived straight into.

The slop that the puppy was eating merrily did not look that different from what was dumped on the plate before him. A mashed mess of what looked like vegetables and the odd chunk of meat. Mixed together it looked as if it had already been eaten and partly digested.

It didn't smell any better either.

"What..."

"Food," the servant interjected gruffly. "It's all you will get aside from water. And think yourself lucky. Those here to be punished are fed the rotten corpses of the drowned."

"That's a fine way of tempting my appetite," Demetrius scoffed, pulling the plate toward him. "I know that, but I prefer to think of more appealing things if I'm eating."

"Good luck with that." The servant chuckled with a low, rattling noise that sounded as if his lungs were full of fluid. "The darkness from the depths seeps in. And it clings like limpets on a ship."

"Thanks again," Demetrius picked uneasily at a piece of meat, tentatively bringing it to his lips. It tasted sour and salty and tingled on his tongue. He shuddered but swallowed it quickly. And the surrounding mush was no better. The combination of textures and acrid notes made it barely edible.

The servant watched in amusement before turning and loping away, dragging his right leg which had refused to obey what his mind was telling it.

"I suppose I at least have all my faculties," he said, looking down at the pup who was licking the remains of its food greedily. "And you seem to be enjoying...whatever that stuff is. I'll deal with it. I had to deal with my father's attempts at cooking when the catches were scarce. That was like drinking brine with the odd bit of potato. This offers a little more substance."

The horses whinnied behind him. The smell of meat, however subtle, touched their nostrils. But when the smell of salt followed, they calmed as they realised the mix was unpalatable.

"Maybe eating this will mean they look less interested in me," Demetrius managed a chuckle before pushing the remainder of the food away. It would take time for him to be able to stomach it. Half was better than nothing.

He lay back, the straw cradling his body with its rough fingers that reminded him of his father's hands, the skin hard and coarse from the toiling in the fields.

The pup snuggled under his arm as it sought to share the warmth of his body. Demetrius turned his head slightly as it nuzzled closer. The food had given it a rather unpleasant odour to its breath.

"I hope we're able to wash in the morning," he muttered quietly. "Otherwise, you're really going to stink. I could probably ignore myself, but smelly animals have more pungency."

The pup gave a soft snore and Demetrius smiled. No doubt, if the animal could speak, it would think the opposite.

----

On shore, Demetrius's father was wondering where his son had gone. One or two people had heard movement in the night but dismissed it as animals wandering too close to the village as they sometimes did when they smelled the scales from the fisherman's catch.

"He'll turn up," one woman said as she wrung out her washing. "He's gone missing before, hasn't he? That's the sort of thing you expect with most lads. Maybe more with yours."

Christos nodded but his eyes were fixed on the forest beyond. His son wandered, there was no denying that, but he seldom, if ever, failed to return when there was work to be done.

And he was usually always back for breakfast.

"I just fear that those that prey on humans have woven their magic at last," he said uneasily. "Especially with his mixed blood."

"He'll be fine. Whatever happens, or whatever has happened, he's strong."

The dismissive words did little to calm Christos's fears but he nodded once again. He would keep his concerns to himself, knowing the ill feeling towards the mixed blood, even if they smiled to his face.

"Well, good day to you anyway," he muttered, heading away to gather his tools for the day. "As usual, compassion runs in rivers..."

The woman smirked and continued with her chores, gathering her broom to brush away the dust and leaves that had blown over her property in the night.

Demetrius was a nice enough lad and they had time for him, but all of them knew he had a strangeness about him and that rose hackles. They didn't know how to take him. Whatever blood permeated his veins could lead him to betray or turn against normal humans.

Christos had tried to reassure them. The child's mother had been kind for he was still living, and he had raised the boy well. But that did little to quell the distrust.

They tolerated him. And that would have to suffice.