Jewel of the Sea

by Tiffany Roberts

  The gun fires with a deafening boom.

  Aymee’s body jerked, and her eyes snapped open. Her vision cleared; Randall wasn’t dropping into the sand with a shocked expression on his face, she wasn’t on the beach, she wasn’t anywhere familiar. There was no telling how large this place was — most of it was masked by gloom, cast in a palette of drab grays and blacks that made the air feel oppressive and thick. Seawater splashed restlessly against the walls below, and torrents of rainwater poured in from above.

  She shivered, and Arkon tightened his arm around her.

  “Is it normal for humans to sleep through such noise?” he asked. “The storm began during the night, but you didn’t stir through most of it.”

  Tilting her head back, she looked up at him. His face was shadowed, but she caught a hint of the violet in his eyes nonetheless. “When we sleep deep enough.” She winced at the pain speaking caused her and touched her tongue to the inside of her cheek. Her face throbbed — she likely had a nasty bruise — and her entire body ached as she shifted in Arkon’s hold. The air was chilly, and she didn’t want to leave his warmth. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Yes, a bit. Before the thunder began.” He stretched a few of his tentacles over the floor in front of him. “How do you feel?”

  “Sore, though I imagine you feel worse sitting on this concrete.”

  He smiled gently. “After a while, I couldn’t feel much of anything at all. A small price to pay for your comfort.”

  “Oh!” Remembering his wound, she pushed away, but he didn’t let her move far.

  “I am fine, truly. When you are ready to get up, we will get up, but I doubt you’re eager to face the chill.”

  “No, I’m not.” She carefully settled against his chest, tucked her arms between their bodies, and drew her knees up. Arkon draped his tentacles over her exposed calves and feet. “Thank you.”

  “How do you feel...emotionally?” he asked. “I’d guess you don’t experience situations like the one yesterday very often.”

  A flash lit the cavern for an instant, granting her a fleeting glimpse of Arkon’s face. It was followed by a crack of thunder that rattled the stone around them. Bits of debris tumbled from the break in the ceiling and splashed into the water.

  “Drained,” she replied, gazing toward the hole. “I’ve dealt with emergencies in the clinic, but this… No, nothing like this.” She frowned and looked back at Arkon. “Are you okay?”

  “I am still angry that you came to harm. Still sorrowful that it ended in violence. But more than any of that, I’m grateful you are safe, and we’re together.” He lifted a hand and brushed her hair back from her cheek. “As much as I have locked myself away within the Facility, I’ve still shared in the struggles of my people. Our lives are dangerous. The sea is dangerous. It does not surprise me that land is, as well.”

  She reached up and took his hand, guiding it down to kiss his knuckles. “I hate that you’re being hunted, and it’ll only be worse now. They’ve seen you.”

  Arkon frowned and brushed the pad of his thumb over her skin. “You are the one who has been forced away from your home.”

  “I don’t think Cyrus would have done anything. Not with Randall there.”

  “He would have.”

  “Not if you had left before—” She shook her head; Arkon was right. How could she look back on those events and believe Cyrus wouldn’t have killed her? “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. How is your…” Eyes wide, she stared at Arkon’s chest and tentatively traced her finger over the thin, raised scar that had been an open wound only hours before. “How?”

  “I told you I just needed time. It only stayed open for so long yesterday because my movement while swimming wouldn’t allow it to seal.”

  “But it’s fully healed! It would take a few weeks for a cut like that to reach this point for a human.”

  “I am not a human, Aymee. And it was a relatively minor wound.”

  “This...this is fascinating!” She looked up and met his eyes, bubbling with excitement. “You heal this quickly with any injury?”

  “It depends upon the nature and severity. We are not invincible, by any means. Cuts such as this are quickly healed, but more serious wounds take days, if they are not mortal to begin with. Jax once lost a tentacle during a hunt. It regenerated over the course of many weeks.”

  “Did they know this? The people who engineered your race?”

  “They did.” He smiled down at her, and her excitement was reflected in his eyes. “It was one of the traits inherent to the cephalopods they used as a basis for our design. As I mentioned, I believe they wanted us to be as self-sufficient as possible. Eliminating the necessity for regular medical attention would’ve gone a long way in that regard.”

  Lightning flashed again, dragging thunder in its wake. The sound vibrated through Aymee as she ran her fingertips over his scar. Arkon’s hearts thumped against her other palm, which rested flat on his chest.

  “It’s amazing,” she whispered.

  What would Halora be like now if those long-dead humans had treated the kraken differently? Might humans and kraken have lived and worked together to build a mutual society on land and sea alike?

  What wonders might have been accomplished with tools that could alter life, that could create it? How many lives had been lost in the years since the first landing because so much of that technology, so many of those techniques, had been swallowed up by time?

  One of Arkon’s tentacles cradled her bottom. Aymee started; she’d been so shocked and excited upon discovering his wound had healed that she’d straddled him without realizing.

  He settled his hands on her hips.

  She stared into his eyes, and awareness crackled across her skin — awareness of his touch, of his heat, of him.

  Of her desire to have him.

  Aymee hurriedly climbed off and sat on the step beside him. The fabric of her skirt offered no protection from the cold radiating from the concrete. She didn’t want to force a repeat of the situation three days before, when he’d fled her attention; she couldn’t handle the rejection right now.

  “Are we going to the Facility?” she asked.

  He shifted upright and faced her, frowning. “No, we will not be going. But I should.”

  “You’re leaving me here?”

  “I wish that I didn’t have to, but there’s no other choice, Aymee. I have to inform my people of what’s happened, have to warn them, and there are supplies I can retrieve that will benefit you.”

  Relief flooded Aymee, easing her tense limbs and pounding heart. “Then you’re coming back?”

  “Of course I’m coming back. After everything, do you think I would truly abandon you?”

  Now that he’d said it aloud, the ridiculousness of her fear dawned upon her. If her emotions hadn’t already been so frayed, she might’ve felt shame, but she had to cut herself some slack — the last twelve hours or so had been some of the hardest of her life. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need for apologies.”

  “You can’t take me with you?”

  He shook his head. “You would not survive the journey, Aymee.”

  “Why?” But she already knew. She stared down at the concrete beneath her feet. With Arkon here, this place was dark but tolerable, and all the sounds — most of them produced by wind and water — were almost soothing once they faded to the recesses of her consciousness. But alone?

  Every little noise could easily become a monster creeping toward her through the murk — Cyrus with his battered face dragging himself up the ladder, or Randall with a neat little bullet hole in his head.

  It was irrational, but this place was foreign to her, and Aymee would have only her thoughts to keep her company until Arkon returned.

  Aymee’s imagination had always been active, especially when no one was around to distract her. Normally, that was a good thing — it allowed her immense surges of inspired creativity — but given her current mental st
ate, the prospect frightened her.

  “Even if you could hold your breath for long enough, the pressure at that depth could cause you harm. I will bring a PDS back with me. Those are the suits Macy wears to travel underwater. But...even with the suit, Aymee,” he hooked a finger beneath her chin and turned her face back toward him, “I do not think it wise for me to take you to the Facility.”

  Her brows lowered. “Why not? Macy is there.”

  “As are kraken who only tolerate her presence because they fear repercussions from Jax, Dracchus, and myself.”

  “Is she in danger there?”

  “No. The ones who disagree with her presence avoid her, but they will not dare do her harm unless things change drastically. If it was unsafe, Jax would take Macy and Sarina away immediately.”

  “And my being there?”

  He sighed, blowing air from his siphons. “Macy has earned the respect of the kraken through much hardship. For some, that is encouragement to extend tentative trust to humans. For others, she is but the exception to the rule. You are an unknown entity.”

  Aymee nodded. “I understand.” The possibility of seeing Macy again and finally meeting baby Sarina had been a beacon of hope in a dark landscape. That hope was now snuffed out. It was for the best, she knew — she didn’t want to cause trouble for Arkon or Macy, especially if the stakes were so high. “We’re staying here, then?”

  “At least for a little while. We will have to decide on a way forward together.” Arkon straightened and dragged the two canisters closer, opening their lids. He took the letters and the little carved stone out of the one he’d brought to the beach and placed them on the step beside her. “Macy has plenty to eat down there, so I would like you to eat some of the food you packed for her.”

  Aymee stared down at the items. She picked up the stone, clutched it in her fist, and held it to her chest.

  Arkon removed a piece of cloth from the supplies — a handkerchief Macy’s mother had embroidered — lifted the other empty canister, and carried it closer to the opening in the ceiling. Coiling his tentacles around one of the large mooring posts along the edge of the platform, he leaned out over the seawater.

  Extending four of his front tentacles — two grasping the container, and two stretching the handkerchief over its top — he held the canister beneath a stream of water pouring in from above. After a minute or so, he pulled himself back onto the platform and returned to Aymee.

  “How did you know to do that?” she asked.

  “I’ve had many conversations with Macy,” he said, standing the canister on the floor against the wall. “I was fascinated when I saw her drinking water, so I naturally asked her questions until she eventually shooed me out into the hallway and closed the door behind me.” Aymee chuckled, and Arkon smiled. “There was a waterfall in the cave where Jax originally brought her that provided for her needs. Because she was unable to boil the water initially, she used some cloth to filter some of the impurities. Our waterfall is only temporary, but if I can, I will bring water from the Facility. Macy says it is the cleanest she’s ever had.”

  “Thank you.”

  Arkon crouched in front of her. His eyes dipped to her cheek and an angry glint sparked in them as he raised his hand and gently stroked her bruise. “I will be back before dark. Rest, if you can.”

  Her fingers tightened over the stone; he was leaving already? “Okay.”

  Arkon removed an apple from Aymee’s supply canister and held it toward her. “Eat.”

  She took it in numb fingers. “I will.”

  He leaned forward and lightly pressed his forehead to hers. “I will return soon, Aymee. I will allow nothing to delay me this time.”

  She smiled at him, forcing the expression to remain in place as he pulled back and turned away. His shoulders rose with a slow, deep inhalation, and then he dropped off the edge of the platform, hitting the water with a large splash.

  Thunder punctuated his sudden absence with a finality that made her stomach clench.

  Chapter 11

  Though his muscles burned with exertion, Arkon could not still his tentacles as the water drained from the Facility’s entry chamber. His nervous energy had been of benefit during the journey, but now it fluttered inside him with no outlet, shifting into a sense of dread that churned his gut. He didn’t intend to spend a single moment longer than necessary here. Aymee was alone, and the weight of her trauma from the prior day was but one of the problems she faced.

  “Pressurization complete,” the Computer finally announced.

  Arkon hurried through the interior door, and his mind raced down several of the corridors at once, seeking out a disorganized list of supplies from a confused set of locations. He hesitated, dripping water onto the hallway floor.

  What did humans need to survive?

  Food and water. Seawater was no good, and there was no permanent supply of fresh water at the Broken Cavern, as far as he knew. And here at the Facility, Macy was the only one who had food fit for a human.

  Using every handhold within reach to pull himself along, he hurried toward the cabins.

  He halted abruptly after turning a corner.

  “Can’t transport anything without a container.”

  Shaking his head at himself, he turned around and wound through the corridors to the Pool Room, which held the largest airtight containers he knew of in the Facility.

  The door slid open, and Arkon entered. He was mentally mapping what he could fit into the various container shapes and sizes when he looked up and stopped again.

  Dracchus was beside the pool, powerful arms folded across his broad chest. He glanced at Arkon, creased his brow, and looked back down at the water.

  “I do not understand this, Arkon. What is it meant to be?”

  Jaw agape, Arkon could do nothing but stare for several seconds. Dracchus was the last person he might have expected to find here, studying the patterns Arkon had created on the bottom of the pool.

  “It is...well... I think that... It is meant to be whatever you feel it is, Dracchus.”

  “But what is it to you?”

  Arkon moved beside Dracchus and turned his attention to the design. Its creation seemed so long ago, now, it may as well have been the work of a stranger.

  “To me, it is...motion.”

  Dracchus grunted.

  After many seconds of increasingly awkward silence, Arkon backed away and went to the empty containers stacked along the wall.

  “There is a strange scent upon you, Arkon.”

  Arkon paused in the middle of reaching for one of the large chests. “I...have been to a few new locations recently.”

  “Overnight?”

  “I was caught up. Searching. For stones. I’ve only come for a container to bring some back here.”

  When Arkon glanced over his shoulder, Dracchus was facing him fully. The confusion that had been on the big kraken’s face a moment before was gone, replaced by open suspicion.

  “You are distracted,” Dracchus said, moving closer, “but not as you normally are. What are you hiding, Arkon?”

  Arkon looked back at the chest, grasped the handles on its sides, and lifted it from the stack. “Nothing.”

  He turned and carried the container toward the door.

  Dracchus imposed himself in Arkon’s path, tipped his chin down, and flared his nostrils. “That is the scent of a human.”

  “I visited Macy when—”

  “You are still wet, Arkon. You just entered the Facility. And that is not Macy’s scent.”

  Arkon envisioned one of the clocks that were in all the cabins — seconds ticking by, tumbling into the past one after another, each representing a bit longer that Aymee spent alone with her guilt in an unfamiliar place.

  “And I am just leaving. If you would—”

  “Arkon.”

  The potential paths the situation could take flowed through Arkon’s mind in rapid succession over the course of an instant. He was faster and more agile
than Dracchus, but he wasn’t likely to outmaneuver the larger kraken in such close quarters. Even if he did, what would it accomplish? There was always the possibility of a challenge, but that would attract the attention of more kraken, and Arkon wanted only to obtain what he needed and leave. Besides, Dracchus had given up challenging Arkon long ago. Would he even be interested now?

  Yes, of course he would be. When Dracchus had suspected Jax of treachery, he’d questioned Arkon tirelessly and had even followed him into unfamiliar waters to determine whether his suspicions were justified.

  “I am gathering supplies for Aymee. I am sheltering her in the place Jax calls the Broken Cavern — the place you followed me to when you attacked Macy.”

  “Aymee? The woman you spoke to on the beach?”

  “Yes.”

  Dracchus’s brows fell, and his frown — which seemed to be his default expression — deepened. “You have her in your keeping?”

  “Do you really require me to repeat everything I just told you?”

  “Have you learned nothing from Jax?” Dracchus demanded. “This is foolish, Arkon. You told us the humans have hunters seeking our kind, and now you have taken one of their females?”

  “I didn’t take her, Dracchus,” Arkon said, squeezing the container’s handles. “The situation with the hunters has...escalated, and she was no longer safe there.”

  Dracchus straightened, lips parting and eyes widening. “They saw you.”

  Arkon clenched his jaw. Perhaps later, he’d find amusement in how he’d not cared for Dracchus’s opinions, one way or another, a few months ago.

  The air around Dracchus crackled; his frustration was palpable. “You put our people at risk, Arkon, over a human.”

  The guilt that had been building within Arkon flared and twisted into anger in a flash.

  “Have you learned nothing from Jax?” Arkon growled. “My connection to that human is stronger than I have to any of our people, and I have done no wrong in spending time with her.”