Magic Tides (Kate Daniels: Wilmington Years #1)(43)

The sea swine melted back into seawater. The ocean streamed back through the gap in the hull, leaving puddles in its stead.

I raised Aaron’s head by its hair and turned to the old man.

He fell to his knees and smashed his forehead onto the stage with a thud.

My voice was hoarse. “Anyone else here who thinks he is a god?”

His voice quaked. “No, mistress.”

“Good.”

I turned to the nine prisoners.

The chains on their ankles had not disappeared. Damn.

“Darin?” I called.

He looked at me, startled.

“I’m a friend of your father.”

Darin blinked at me, clearly shocked. “My dad?”

“Yes. Thomas. I need you to explain what went on here.”



THE CHEST of gold sat on the sea floor, about 20 feet down. The water was crystal-clear, and from my spot on the edge of the hull’s hole, every detail of it was visible. The dumpster-sized wooden box rested among the coral-textured boulders, encrusted with sea stars and urchins. Its carved lid was flung open, showing the gleaming treasure inside—a mound of gold coins, bright yellow like egg yolks, heaped in a small mountain and punctuated by glowing jewels. A god’s ransom. Literally.

Aaron had asked Manannán for powers and riches. He’d shown me his powers. That chest was the promised riches.

“On their first dive, everyone gets a coin,” Darin said. “Just one. The moment you touch the gold, you get chained up.”

Their chains led to that chest, growing from it like roots.

“Once you get that first coin and get chained, you bring it to Aaron, and he sends you back for more. Except you can dive all you want, and it won’t matter. You can touch the chest, you can scoop the coins up, but when you try to take them out of the water, they disappear.”

“And Aaron didn’t get chained when he touched those first coins?” I asked.

“Once you get a coin out of the water, anyone can hold it,” Darin said. “But only Aaron could use them.”

So each of Aaron’s coins came from that chest and cost the freedom of the diver. He didn’t dive for the coins himself. Otherwise, he would’ve been bound like the rest of them. No, he must’ve suspected that Manannán’s ransom came with a catch. He must’ve hired some kind of mer-person to fetch them, and once they got ensnared by the chest, he started kidnapping people.

Each of those coins radiated magic, and it was strong. The more coins, the stronger Aaron’s powers became.

“He would make us dive all the time,” the younger woman said. “Hours and hours. Even though we couldn’t bring anything back, he kept sending us in.”

The treasure really didn’t want me to ignore it. I wanted to keep looking at it. I wanted to dive down and touch those shiny yellow coins. To feel the metal rub against the ridges of my fingertips.

Aaron would’ve stared at it just like this. He could see it, but he couldn’t touch it. Three years of staring. It must’ve slowly driven him mad.

“Aaron stood right here often, didn’t he?” I asked.

“He’d stare at it for hours,” the woman with defiant eyes said. “Watching us as we swam back and forth, trying to bring the gold to him. Bastard.”

I was right. Manannán had cursed Aaron for daring to put his hands on his child, and he’d used gold to do it. It wasn’t surprising. He’d done it before. One time he had tempted Cormac mac Airt, the High King of Ireland, with a silver branch that bore three gold apples, and Cormac had become so obsessed with it that he had given Manannán his daughter, his son, and his wife just to possess it.

It was a hell of a trap. Manannán must’ve ripped a tear in the fabric of the world, connecting this spot to his coast where his powers were the strongest. He had dropped this chest on his side of the portal, fully within his power and in his domain, and then he had told Aaron to go get his treasure.

The golden hoard glittered. This was the source of the magic that was keeping the portal open. And every time anyone looked at it, Manannán got a little boost of power.

Because people didn’t just look at it—they coveted it.

Aaron had wanted to possess it, the captives had wanted to carry it so they could earn their freedom, and all of them had unwittingly worshipped Manannán every time they had swum to it. His own faith generator.

This wasn’t just devious. It was Machiavellian.

He would not want to give it up.

“Can’t you break it?” The defiant woman showed me her chain.

I shook my head.

“But I saw you. We all saw you…”

“Aaron was right. I have a lot of magic,” I said. “I’m very difficult to restrain. Tuatha Dé are cunning and malicious. Nothing they do is ever simple. Cutting through the chains is an obvious solution, and Manannán would’ve accounted for it. If I try to sever your chains, it might kill you.”

Her face twisted.

“So what do we do?” the other woman asked.

It took a bit of effort to turn away from the treasure.

I walked back to the stage and jumped onto it. Five gold coins lay glistening on the floor, where they had fallen when I broke my chains. Five coins but nine divers.

I looked at the old man, still kneeling with his forehead planted on the floor tiles. He hadn’t moved.