She held his gaze as he approached, betraying no emotion. Jax was the first to look away; he pulled himself onto the land and stopped in front of the shelter, leaning forward to run the tip of a finger over the tight, neat knots she’d used to fasten the wind-cloth to the poles.
Macy had so easily repurposed these items to fit her needs. Was that one of the reasons these otherwise weak creatures were dangerous?
“You have been busy,” he said.
“I needed to get out of the sun.” She sat up. “Not like there was anything else for me to do.”
He tilted his head back. Only a sliver of light shone into the cave; soon, it would be full dark. But during most of the day — when the sky was clear — the island bore the brunt of the sunlight. Was it as uncomfortable to humans as it was to kraken?
Jax studied Macy. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but her skin appeared pinker than it had before. She’d said human skin didn’t change like a kraken’s. “Your color is different. Does it take a long while for you to make such changes?”
She furrowed her brow and glanced at her shoulder, touching a finger to it. “It’s burned.”
“Burned? How?”
She stared at him in silence. After a few moments, she sighed and reached for the cup on the ground beside her. “I told you a human’s skin doesn’t change color. Not—”
“You lied.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t lie, and if you wouldn’t interrupt me, I’d tell you why.”
“You said a human’s skin does not change color. Your skin has changed color.”
“I said it didn’t change like yours.”
“Perhaps you must learn to couple your words with more accuracy.”
“You know what? I don’t have to talk to you,” she snapped, turning her back to him.
Jax lowered his brow and tightened his grip on the fish. He was curious to learn about humans — about her — but he had no patience for deceit.
“As you’ll have it.” He separated one of the fish from the trio and tossed it onto the ground before her. “You can eat in silence.”
The fish thrashed and flopped, gills flaring and mouth gaping. The glowing tendrils protruding from its head bobbed with its movement. She cast a single, fleeting glance at the creature.
Heat flared in Jax’s gut. He’d hurried back from the Facility to see her, to speak with her, to share a meal with her, and now she was ignoring him. If all humans had the potential to be so frustrating, he understood why his ancestors had risen against them.
He moved closer to the water and bent down to eat his share. The meat was tender, and the fish struggled only briefly.
“That’s so gross,” she muttered.
Jax twisted to look at her. She raised the cup to her lips and poured the contents into her mouth.
Placing the fish bones aside, he turned toward Macy fully. “What are you doing?”
She twisted, too, giving him more of her back, and maintained her silence.
He slithered over to her, and as he came alongside her, he leaned forward to see her tongue slip out of her mouth and wipe moisture from her lips. Without looking at him, she lifted her chin and turned away.
Jax reached around her with a tentacle and snatched the cup from her hand.
“Hey! Give that back!” She leapt up and reached for it.
Retreating to the shaft of sunlight, he angled the cup to look inside. Water. Was that the purpose of such objects? There was water everywhere. Why would anyone need a container to carry so small an amount?
He poured a bit of it over a suction cup. The humans called it fresh water, but to the kraken, it was foul. A waste of water.
“You are putting this inside your body? Is it your wish to die?”
Macy grabbed the cup out of his hold. She remained near, posture rigid, and glared at him. “Why should I bother answering your questions? You’ll just call me a liar.”
“Speak plainly, and I won’t have to.”
“Are all kraken rude, or is it just you?”
“Empty that before you hurt yourself, then eat.”
Macy raised the cup and gulped down the remainder of the water.
Cold flowed through Jax’s veins; his stomach twisted, and his skin involuntarily pulsed yellow. He had treated her poorly while she’d been in his care, but he hadn’t known it was possible to push a human to self-harm.
“You have doomed yourself,” he said quietly. “Why?”
“I haven’t done anything. I’d die if I didn’t drink it.”
“I…what does that mean? Fresh water is deadly.”
“To humans, salt water is deadly. We need fresh water to live.” She gestured to her arm. “Our skin changes color if we are ill or if we’re in the sun too long. It also changes if we’re angry or embarrassed, but it doesn’t change like yours.”
He shifted his gaze along her arm, following it to her shoulder. The single strip of pale flesh there — near the strap of her cloth covering — was in stark contrast to the angry red surrounding it. Would the same happen to a kraken after being in the sun for too long?
“You still need to eat,” he said; however pronounced the differences between them, all creatures needed food.
She glanced at the fish. Only its mouth moved now, opening and closing as it gulped air.
“I can’t eat that.”
Jax’s skin darkened. “I hunted for you. Do you reject it?”
“I said I can’t. I can’t eat it like that.”
Anger flared in his gut; success was never guaranteed on a hunt, making any catch precious. To see his effort — to see good food — so disrespected was appalling.
He clenched his jaw and forced his skin back to neutral.
If he wanted to learn about her people, about their artifacts, he needed to keep her content. Thus far, he’d failed miserably.
“Explain. If you would.”
“It’s raw.”
“It is fresh.”
She scrunched her nose. Jax didn’t know how to interpret the expression.
“It needs to be cooked. If I eat it raw, I could get sick and possibly die.”
Cooked. The word was familiar to him, though only vaguely. Perhaps it was one of the many words most younglings learned and promptly forgot — a word that had no meaning or use in the life of a kraken. A word from a different world.
“So…you can only eat plants?”
“I can eat the fish, but it needs to be cooked.”
“What is cooked?”
Macy tilted her head. “Do you know what a fire is?”
“Yes. The Computer uses strange smoke to put it out, when—”
“Computer?”
He snapped his mouth shut. It was more than he’d meant to give away, more than he should have said. “I know fire, Macy. That is all that’s important.”
“Oh no. You’re not dodging this question. I’ve answered yours, now you can answer mine. What computer?”
Frustrated, he expelled air through his siphons. Macy jumped back and stared at him with wide eyes.
“What is wrong?” he asked, his irritation dampened by confusion.
“I thought those were your ears!”
“They are my siphons.” He turned his head and pointed to the small hole behind his siphon. “These are my ears…earholes, if it is more accurate.”
She studied it intently for a moment before she looked away, scratching her arm. “Sorry for assuming.
He frowned at her posture and tone. “I am sorry, as well, Macy.”
Her eyes met his. “For what?”
“Have I not done the same, many times?”
“Yeah. I guess you have.” She stepped away, placed her cup on the ground beneath the canvas, and went to one of the numerous containers nearby. After emptying its contents into the other bins, she walked to the edge of the island and dunked the container into the water. She carried it to her shelter and set it down.
Using both hands, she picked up the
fish and dropped it into the container.
“You need fire to cook the fish, so you may eat safely,” Jax said.
“Yes.” She settled her attention upon him. “But you still haven’t told me about this computer.”
Jax inhaled deeply. If he wanted her to answer his questions truthfully, he would have to extend her the same courtesy. But he couldn’t endanger his people.
“There is a voice in the walls, in the place my people dwell. It is called the Computer, and it speaks to us. Sometimes, it will answer questions, and sometimes it will give us warnings. Often, we do not understand what it means.”
Macy stood, her eyes widening. “You mean down there?” She pointed toward the tunnel. “In the sea?”
“I can tell you no more, Macy.”
“But you just told me you have a computer down there! That’s…that’s human technology!” She paused, eyes darting from side to side as though in thought. “What do your ghosts look like?”
If Macy chose to act against the kraken, what information would prove damaging? “Like humans,” he replied finally. “Sometimes we can see through them. Sometimes they flicker, or look…fuzzy.”
“They’re holograms. Recordings.”
“Holograms.” Ghosts seemed simpler and more fitting. “You are excited by this?”
“Yes! We never knew there was a settlement underwater.”
“I did not say it was underwater.”
“You didn’t have to. What do the holograms say?”
“What do you need to make your fire?”
“What do they say, Jax?”
“I can tell you no more, Macy.”
“But—”
“No more,” he growled.
Macy shut her mouth, pressing her lips tight, and curled her hands into fists. She took in a deep breath and released it slowly. “Right. I’m your prisoner.”
Her anger and resignation struck like a blow.
“Such information is not mine alone to give, Macy.”
“Right,” she repeated, and sat down in her shelter.
The uncertainty that filled Jax was foreign to him; he could do nothing but watch her, for a time, with no idea of how to proceed.
“What do you need to make fire, Macy? I will not allow you to starve.”
“So just let me go.”
“And what will I tell my people, when yours come to hunt us?”
“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone!”
Jax moved to the crates. He picked through their contents, unable to keep the history between humans and kraken from the forefront of his mind. It was too dark and bloody to be ignored. “If I gave you my word that no harm will come to you while you are here, would you believe me?”
“You already said you wouldn’t kill me, and you’re going through a lot of effort to keep me alive.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. That shadows were thickening; night would be upon them soon. “That doesn’t answer my question, Macy.
She sighed. “Yes. I believe you.”
Nodding, he turned back to the human artifacts. “That is more than I expected. For now, let it be enough.”
“It’s not enough for me! I didn’t choose to be here!”
“Tell me what you need to make a fire, and I will obtain it for you.”
She growled. “Wood — dry wood — and something to create a spark. Flint and steel, or one of those little fire starters.”
Jax sorted the Facility’s strange collection of items in his mind. He knew a few pieces of equipment that could start a fire without a doubt, but they were all tied into the buildings themselves; even if he could remove them, he doubted they’d work with that connection severed. But there was another possibility…
“Would heat work?”
“It’d have to be extremely hot.”
“I know of something that may help, but I’ll have to leave to obtain it.”
Macy was quiet for a time. When he glanced at her, she was staring at the sky.
“It’s going to be dark,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Is it…safe here?”
“Safer than anyplace out there.”
She nodded and dropped her gaze to her lap.
“I’ll be as fast as I can, Macy.”
He counted his heartbeats; she hadn’t yet replied by fifty. Moving quietly, he picked up her cup and filled it under the waterfall. She watched as he placed it on the ground beside her, but said nothing.
Her silence followed him into the sea.
The water was dark as he hurried to the Facility, and he saw no other kraken when he entered. He moved through the halls with more caution than usual; when he set his heart on being away, the place put him in strange moods. There was a tightness in his chest and a restless energy in his tentacles. He itched to move on.
He found the room he was looking for without encountering anyone.
The humans had kept many weapons in the Facility — a variety of guns, spears, knives, and harpoons. Though the kraken preferred the simpler tools, they’d always remained mindful of the weapons their old foes had wielded. They’d stand the best chance in using such devices, should the age-old conflict spark again.
Jax removed a heat gun from the charging rack. It was relatively small, fitting in one hand, and its case was sleek and glossy, but he knew better than to be fooled by its appearance. This was a dangerous weapon. He checked the charge and made sure its operation was disabled before exiting the Facility.
He saw no one on his way out. Nonetheless, he kept low and matched his skin to the bottom. That he’d returned so soon would be strange to most kraken; that he’d taken a heat gun would rouse true suspicion.
Moonlight — silvery and faint —shone through the surface by the time he reached the tunnel entrance. His hearts beat rapidly. He was bringing a weapon into the presence of a human. Perhaps he was as foolish as some of the others thought. Perhaps this would be his end.
He wanted to trust Macy. Wanted to believe her. But his people had made a point of remembering; the kraken would never forget the cruelty of humanity. She could guide him as necessary, but he would not allow her near the gun.
The cave was dark save for the weak light cast by the stars directly overhead when he emerged inside. His eyes didn’t adjust until he’d climbed onto the island. He paused midway across it.
Macy was curled in her shelter, wrapped in the cloth coverings from his collection. Her breathing was slow and steady; she was fast asleep. She’d stacked the driftwood that had been spread throughout the numerous containers in a pile beside one of the barrels.
Jax crept closer, lowering himself near to the ground. She seemed so tiny and serene. So distant from the frustration and sorrow she carried while awake. Holding his breath, he reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.
For all her oddities, she was fiercely alluring; heat stirred in his veins. Females were rare amongst his people — so few remained that the survival of their species depended upon keeping the females safe. Macy wasn’t kraken, but she seemed no less precious.
His gaze roamed over her features, and his hearts quickened.
He would be the one to protect her.
Chapter 5
Macy opened her eyes before the fog of sleep lifted from her mind. She only vaguely registered the presence of a large, blurred shape ahead. Her vision cleared as she blinked away the grogginess and her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The dark form moved; it seemed to unfold, rising from the water with a series of soft splashes.
Her brain was slow to determine what she was seeing.
“Are you awake now, Macy?” Jax asked.
She furrowed her brow; he’d left just before dark. Macy had gathered as much driftwood as she could find in the containers and collected an armful of extra clothing before the light died. She’d draped herself in cloth and sat down under her shelter to await his return…
A wave of dizziness hit her as she lifted her head. She groaned and
shut her eyes, dropping her cheek back into the crook of her arm.
“Yes,” she replied, voice muffled.
There was another splash, followed by the strange slithering sound that meant he was on land, drawing closer to her.
“Do you feel unwell?”
“Hungry and lightheaded, but I’ll be fine.” Macy raised her head again and looked up. The sky was stained with the soft pinks and golds of sunrise. She’d been more tired than she’d realized.
Jax stood a couple of meters away, water running from his gray and black skin to pool on the ground beneath him. Her eyes followed one of the droplets as it rolled down his chest, over the muscle of his abdomen, and past his pelvis, catching the light from different angles as it moved. For the first time, Macy wondered where his equipment was. She’d seen a few younger boys as they ran naked through town on occasion, and had seen Camrin’s once when they’d gone swimming. As they’d grown older, it would sometimes become erect when he was with her — visible despite his pants — and she’d pretend not to notice.
However minimal, none of that experience helped her imagine what Jax’s might look like, much less where it was.
When she realized she was staring, her face heated, and she forced her eyes to his. “How long have you been there?”
Jax shrugged. He made the gesture with such ease that she was briefly overcome by how surreal the situation was — a sea monster with both human speech and mannerisms.
“I returned when the larger moon was in the center of the sky.”
Macy straightened her arms and pushed herself up, brushing aside the clothing piled atop her. She ran her hand through her hair and winced as her fingers caught in several snarls. “I meant to stay awake.”
“Weren’t you tired?”
“Yes.” Hungry and scared, too.
“Then no harm has been done.” He dipped his chin toward the driftwood. “That is for your fire?”
“Yeah.” She found her cup nearby and picked it up, peering inside. It was empty.
Jax came forward and held out a hand. She hesitated before placing the cup on his waiting palm and draping a piece of cloth atop it.
“Let the water flow through the cloth. It’ll help keep it clean,” she said in response to his questioning expression.
Treasure of the Abyss (The Kraken Book 1) Page 5
