Talbot wiped the blood off of his hands, streaking his slacks with red. How fucking ridiculous. Even supernatural servants were useless.

 

The man’s blood pooled around him, dripping from the body into the crevices on the floor to fill a small pool. Usually an offering for the hunters of the deep.

 

His father had often made deals with them, they were easy to satisfy. Predatory hungry creatures that would do anything for an easy meal with a taste for humans.

 

Talbot kicked the corpse off the edge, sending it into the sacrificial pit. Apparently what the hunters were not good at was capturing without killing. Whatever weird fucking things they were had utterly failed.

 

They had done an excellent job of tracking Ms. Diaz and his mermaid. But he had witnessed their escape firsthand. Despite the scary effects they had just jumped through them. With the deal fulfilled the hunters hadn’t bothered to pursue.

 

This was why he didn’t meddle with magic like his father. He had gained nothing, in fact, he had lost more. The barnacles now made his arm almost entirely useless. The flesh and pustules had begun to bubble and peel.

 

Magic was inherently corruptive, not meant for mortals. It always came with a cost but it was his last hope.

 

“Next!” He called.

 

A robed man dragged over another sacrifice to the altar. He hated this place so much, the Rig was as much a prison as anything else. Constant reminders of his father. 

 

Yet everyone but him seemed to venerate his father. Despite the barely living husk of the man swimming around through the built-in aquarium. Far more crustacean than man even if he got his immortality. Whatever intelligence he had had flickered out long ago, his body almost entirely petrified in barnacles. A fate worse than death. One Talbot would give anything to avoid.

 

Talbot grabbed the knife and held it up to the man’s throat. The man whispered a prayer to one of the dark gods the cult followed. Talbot may have been losing his mind but even he found their insanity off-putting.

 

With a flick of his wrist, he slit the man’s throat, letting him topple forward into the pit as he continued the ritual.  

 

He glanced back at the grimoire. Everything was outlined like a really fucked up cookbook. Talbot wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t trying the same thing twice.

 

Sacrifice to a deity of corruption clearly wasn’t going to end with him removing the corruption. He couldn’t help but suspect that led to his previous attempt failing. Ensuring that Talbot’s magic did not succeed was really a win-win for this bastard.

 

He knew its name, but he really wished he didn’t. This cult was the bane of his existence. And being corrupted he was their chosen one. Literally, what deity of corruption would accept offerings from someone untainted?

 

“Last one,” he ordered, waving at the cloaked men. Their chanting was really getting on his nerves. 

 

He slaughtered the last man and shoved him into the pit. Magic had failed him up to now, not that he really knew what he was doing. Still, he had captured the mermaid without issue the first time without it, he just needed a location.

 

Talbot kneeled, pouring ingredients from a silver bowl into the pool of blood. He grabbed Ms. Diaz’s shirt and tore a piece off, letting it sink into the blood. It was easy enough to find where someone lived to get some belongings when they technically worked for you.

 

Usually, such a simple spell would just require a little of his blood but he needed more, so he would have to give more. Still, this part he was very much not looking forward to. But if he wanted to see what the future held then there was a grave cost to pay.

 

He put the knife down and grabbed a bronze spoon. It wasn’t quite a bronze knife but he figured it was close enough while being safe… or at least vaguely safer.

 

He sat and took a deep breath. Bringing the spoon to his left eye he prepared himself. This was really gonna fucking hurt.

 

He dug the spoon in, scraping around to pop it out. Searing pain shot through his skull, a burning stinging wall as he pushed the spoon in further. Grunting with the effort before with a twist his eyeball popped free.

 

Darkness clouded half his vision and he felt lightheaded and dizzy as he fumbled for the knife. He could feel his eye dangling by his chin, strands of flesh and tissue still attaching it to its socket.

 

With a cry he grabbed the knife and severed it, another jolt of pain shooting through him as blood began to ooze down his face.

 

He held the eye up, looking at it with his good eye before he plopped it in the bowl of blood. He did his best to mutter the incantation, shock and pain making him slur his words as he mixed the concoction.

 

It began to bubble, the heat making him pull his hand away as the mixture boiled. His eyeball deflated in the horrific soup, the entire mixture taking on a lighter colour.

 

With shaky hands, he picked the bowl up and brought it to his lips. He would get what he wanted one way or another.

The Panama Canal, clever clever. Maybe they weren’t so clueless after all. He glanced out the window of the helicopter as he touched his fingers to his bandaged eye. He would be waiting for them.

 

Ms. Diaz had done him a favour in a way. If the mermaid spoke English then they could bargain for what he wanted. Really in two ways, since there were two mermaids now. He just needed to get one of them alive.

 

It was all coming together. Despite the magic fuckery. The spell had worked and he would not fail again. He would not end up like his father.

 

He could feel the barnacles scratching at his eye socket. The price of magic. Despite the drugs, he needed to end this soon. Before it was too late. He simply needed to catch a mermaid. This time he had wasted no expense. He was going hunting.