Merciless Waters

by Rae Knowles, Daniella Batsheva, Elle Turpitt, Stephanie Ellis

Genres: Gothic; Horror

Synopsis

"Erotic and sensually developed. Lush with vibrant characters and unashamed in its horror and honesty, Merciless Waters is a powerful rush from cover to cover."
—C.S. Humble, author of the Black Wells series

"Lush and imaginative, tense and atmospheric, Merciless Waters is a vengeful fever dream drowned in saltwater."
—Rachel Harrison, national bestselling author of Cackle and Such Sharp Teeth

“Batten down the hatches because Rae Knowles will drag you to the briny depths with this wild, immersive tale of seafaring adventure, ancient myth, grim revenge, and salty desire. These women buccaneers will hook you!”
—Tim McGregor, author of Lure

“A worthy follow-up to The Stradivarius, Rae Knowles’ Merciless Waters is a visceral, sexy, and sweetly romantic tale of jealousy and revenge. I especially loved its distinctive prose, which is ornate and stripped-down by turns.”
—Christi Nogle, author of Bram Stoker Award® winning first novel Beulah

“Merciless Waters seethes with feminine rage and drips with sapphic desire. Knowles weaves a story full of unreliable queer women doing unthinkable things, laces it with dark magic, and dyes it in revenge. Gripping, immersive, and relentless, you'll find no heroes here.”
—Evelyn Freeling, Editor of Les Petites Morts

“Merciless Waters is the perfect bite of horror—a sexy blend of folklore, longing, and maritime terror. If you're missing the sea this fall, cozy up with this spooky, salty gem!”
—Hatteras Mange, Editor of Diet Milk Magazine

“Knowle’s queer, revenge-fueled, energetic pirate romp presents plenty of adventure and sapphic yearning to hook you right away. It keeps you perched on the edge of your seat until the stunning climax.”
—Briana Morgan, author of The Reyes Incident


Aboard the ship Scylla, there is no future or past. Jaq, her fickle lover Lily, and their all-female crew exist in an endless present. It's better this way. At least it keeps Lily by Jaq's side, where she belongs. But the meddling gods care little for Jaq's longing, and despite her protective rituals, their punishmentarrives all the same:

A man, adrift on the open ocean. Delivered to snatch Lily from Jaq's arms forever.

Jaq knows what to do. She's lost Lily before. Her lover will return-when this interloper, this distraction, is snuffed out. But Jaq's murderous schemes may not be enough. The intruder's presence infects her crew with a plague her spells cannot cure: memory. And as the women recall how they came to Scylla, their minds bend one by one towards revenge.

 

 

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Release date: November 14, 2023

Publisher: Brigids Gate Press, LLC

Print pages: 126

Sample

CHAPTER ONE

When the sun strikes violet hues through the cloud cover, I know the gods are angry with me. I do everything I can think of: swallow three strands of Lily’s hair, push all the dust on my headboard into a pile, braid and unbraid frayed rope, then braid it again. None of it works. They still throw purple glimmers into the sunrise like noxious fumes. This is their warning. And I learn how they will punish me the moment I see him floating. His pruney fingers cling to driftwood as he coughs out a sputtering sound.

I am about to lose her again.

Rolling waves are the only sound, the rest of us still asleep below deck. His flapping arms beat the water’s surface as his eyes roll.

I see you.

His blistered mouth opens in the shape of a plea, and I feel Lily’s love slipping away. A seagull taunts me from a hot breeze overhead, tells me as much. I’d hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. I thought I had more time.

I wish he would drown.

But the gods will not be so kind. Scales brush against my ankle, and I glance down to see Ambrose winding through the bow’s wooden railing, his alternating stripes of black and white a gray blur. His little costume makes him look like our prisoner, but he is not. As he slithers from the deck, his body coils in the air, and he breaks the water’s surface with barely a splash. I think he might be freer than any of us.

Tahi’s voluminous curls lift in the wind as she ascends from the crew’s quarters. She is never far behind him.

“He went for breakfast,” I say.

She nods. Morning light kisses her golden skin, her black hair stark against the blinding blue sky. My body clenches, as if I can stop her from looking over the side, become a statue for both of us. It doesn’t work, of course. Her chin dips toward the lapping waves, and though her thick curls cover her face, in my mind I see her brow arching, warping her tattoos as she spies him bobbing. The timer is set on Lily’s love. Tahi will save him, and the countdown begins.

Time jumps for me then.

I am aware of the others waking.

Of splashing.

Heaving sounds of strong women with calloused hands.

When he begins flopping about my freshly mopped wood, I descend to my quarters, clutching the banister as my head swims and dots trail about my vision. His sopping clothes smack the deck, and I press my ear to my shoulder to dim the sound until I can stow myself away in my chambers and shut the thick wooden door behind me.

The bed is a mess of twisted sheets. I run my palm against the linen where Lily slept, feel the curves of her in the mattress. She must be with him already, though I didn’t see her, too sick with loss. My face hovers above our shared bed, I breathe in her lavender scent. How many nights do I have left? Grief threatens to take me. I push it back with a thin hope that Ambrose bit him in the sea. That venom courses through his thieving blood, binding his muscles and drawing foam from his blistered

 lips. The thought steadies me.

I survived it before. I can do it again.

As I rub my bed linen between my fingers, I remember. Many dangers lurk on the ship. Especially for a man. Though the gods may have brought him here, they will not look favorably upon his presence. It’s unnatural. He does not belong here. And Ambrose may have bitten him already, or he might tonight or tomorrow.

And the pigs will eat most anything.

And the sea is deep and choppy and cold.

And I have venoms all my own, if it comes to it.

I picture a pile of bones, bleached from sun and salt. My lungs fill and my back arches. Lily will return soon, and I cannot let her see the fear in me. I hop to my feet, pull the sheets tight over the mattress and tuck them in at the sides. I fold our blanket in the way Lily likes, position our pillows just so. My tiny mound of dust still rests on the headboard. I clear it away with a swift finger, unwilling to give Lily any ideas she doesn’t already have. Padding steps draw closer to the door.

The door hinges creak as she opens it. They need oil. And I look upon Lily as if for the first time. For the last time. I study every detail of her hair, blanched by sunlight and waved by humidity. Her skin remains pale, as if immune to tanning. As if she carries her own darkness. And she does. Her own little shadow trails her like a loyal companion. Almost as loyal as me. She moves in slow motion as she slides over our threshold. Her lilac eyes dart and flutter, her thin dress dances around her slender frame, overjoyed at the opportunity to graze her body.

“What are you doing down here?”

I rub my dusty hand on my trousers and hope she doesn’t notice. “Just straightening up.”

She makes a satisfied sound. Already I can sense the gap closing within her. Her dissatisfied air has fortified. I smelled the craving in her blood these past few months. And now she has her prize.

“Surely you saw—”

“The man?” I flush from

my tone. “Yes, I saw him.”

“Such a lonely thing.” She approaches, reaches out her hand. “To be lost at sea.” Her fingertips caress my cheek, and she smiles like a threat.

“Miracle he survived.” I swallow my displeasure.

“Thank the gods, yes.” She kisses my chin, and my heart flutters. It is shameful how she’s entwined me in her web. Shameful, inevitable ecstasy.

“What will we ...” I say it through shut eyes. I want this moment to last.

“We’ll prepare him a room of course.” Cold covers me and I know she’s pulled away. My open eyes confirm it. She is staring out the porthole window now. ...