Aymee and Macy screamed. Randall stumbled backward and collapsed on the floor.
“What the fuck, Cyrus?” Chad shouted.
“Randall Laster has been relieved of command,” Cyrus replied.
“We never talked about shooting him!” one of the others said.
“He chose his side, Hassan, and it was going to come down to this either way. We bag these fucking fishmen, and Randy’s sacrifice will have been worth it. We’ll tell his father he died in the hunt. That’s more than he deserves.”
“We’re not supposed to kill our own, Cyrus!”
“The fuck you think the Culver Hunters started out doing? We hunted traitors and deserters, kiddies. When that wasn’t a thing anymore, we moved to bounty hunting — running down anyone who pissed off the wrong people. Shit, you haven’t lived until you’ve hunted a human. Nothing like it...but these fish-men are pretty damned close. Don’t know why the hell we stopped.”
Cyrus moved closer to the railing, dragging Aymee along with him. She clawed at his wrist. He shook her forcefully, and she returned her hands to her hair as though to relieve the pressure. “After what this bitch did to me, I have zero issue with putting a slug in her gut. You come on up here and talk to us, or we lay her out next to Randy and come down there.”
Arkon’s fingers flexed; brittle concrete crumbled beneath them.
Calm, he reminded himself, but the word possessed no immediate meaning to him. Aymee was in danger, her life was at risk, and he wasn’t there with her. He might lose her forever. If he moved quickly enough, he could get to Cyrus and strike a mortal blow before…
“You’re a monster,” Aymee said.
“I’m the only thing standing between you and the monsters,” Cyrus growled.
Monsters…
Arkon wouldn’t give them the monster they wanted to slay.
He lowered himself. Perhaps he might have compared Cyrus to Kronus, once, but there was a stark difference — Cyrus was not held in check by fear, or honor, or anything of the sort. He’d been left battered and bloodied, and it had only pushed him toward this.
Arkon looked to his companions; Jax — whose expression was a jumble of terror and fury, of helplessness and desperation, mirroring Arkon’s emotions — was still restrained by Dracchus.
Arkon could not lose Aymee. Would not.
A hook needs to be baited if you want to catch a fish.
He knew then what he had to do.
Go around, Arkon signed.
Confusion flicked over Jax’s features, but he nodded. Dracchus released him, and together the two kraken crept along the wall, toward the far steps.
Arkon drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs. Life had no meaning without risks. Everything he cared about was at risk now. Almost everyone he loved. At least Sarina was safe.
“I am coming up,” Arkon called. “There is no need to harm the females.”
“Arkon, no!” Aymee yelled.
“And here part of me thought you’d dive into that water and swim as far away as you could,” Cyrus said.
“Fuck!” Joel exclaimed. “She bit me!”
“Don’t come!” Macy shouted.
“Damn it, Joel, you’re twice her size! Handle your shit.”
“What do you want me to do?” he demanded.
“Hit the bitch. Shut her up. The adults are trying to talk.”
“You’re going to regret th—”
A thwap — flesh against flesh — silenced Macy.
Arkon moved to the steps, forcing his skin to its normal color — doing so had never been so difficult. He kept low, shielding himself from the hunters’ lines of sight. “I am coming. I told you there’s no need to do them harm.”
“Guess you’re just taking too long,” Cyrus said.
“Lay down your weapons. There’s no reason we cannot all leave here in peace.”
“Arkon, he isn’t—”
Cyrus’s shout cut off Aymee’s words. “Shut your mouth!”
Clenching his jaw, Arkon climbed the stairs. Cyrus wore his broken-toothed grin. Macy was on hands and knees at Joel’s feet, lip bloody. Randall lay where he’d fallen. The other three hunters pointed their long guns toward Arkon, eyes wide with shock and fear.
Beyond the humans, Jax and Dracchus were dark shapes creeping across the floor.
“You’re even uglier than I remember,” Cyrus said.
“As are you,” Arkon replied. “I’d hate to have to make it worse if we cannot work this out.”
“I’m not giving you that chance this time.”
Cyrus raised his arm and fired three times in rapid succession.
“No!” Aymee screamed.
The breath fled Arkon’s lungs; it felt like three blows from Dracchus impacting his abdomen at once. He looked down to see blood oozing from three holes, and piercing, burning pain spread across his stomach.
When he lifted his gaze, Aymee was staring at him, her eyes round with terror, their whites pronounced. His limbs trembled, and his head spun. Her face blurred as his vision clouded.
Chapter 19
Aymee’s heart stopped.
For a moment, everything fell away and time slowed. She stared in horror at the dark blood dripping down Arkon’s abdomen. Her lungs burned; she was suffocating but couldn’t draw breath. The fear of losing him was too much. She lifted her gaze to his.
Arkon’s features were drawn with pain and startlement, his eyes glassy. He swayed but remained upright.
There was a whisper of movement behind, and someone released an agonized gurgle. Cyrus yanked hard on Aymee’s hair as he swung around. Through the curls that fell into her face, she saw two large, dark figures overpowering the pair of rangers who’d been behind Cyrus.
Jax and Dracchus. The blood spurting from the humans’ wounds was lost against the kraken’s crimson skin.
“More of them?” Cyrus tightened his grip on Aymee’s hair. There was an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice. He raised his gun.
Aymee gritted her teeth against the agony in her scalp and covered a fist with her other hand. She twisted, pushing with all her strength, and slammed her elbow into Cyrus’s groin.
He grunted and doubled over. His hand tugged back on her hair, forcing her gaze up before his fingers slipped away.
Jax hurtled past, landing atop Joel. The kraken wrapped his tentacles around the ranger and squeezed. Bones cracked. Chad, the only other ranger standing, settled the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and aimed at Jax.
A shot rang out. Chad’s body jerked as a bullet hit his arm, and his weapon fell from his hand. Dracchus was there an instant later, wrapping a huge hand around Chad’s neck. There was a wet crunch.
Chad’s limp body sagged to the floor.
Aymee flicked her eyes toward the source of the shot; Randall was propped against the wall, pistol trembling in a bloody hand, a trail of crimson smeared beneath him. His arm fell, gun slipping from his grip. He held his other hand to his gut.
Free of Cyrus’s hold, Aymee kicked the gun from his grip. It skittered across the concrete floor.
“You bitch!” he wheezed. He swung his arm, and Aymee braced for impact.
A roar echoed through the pen.
Before Cyrus’s blow connected, Arkon — his skin a furious red — slammed into him. They hit the floor hard in a tangle of limbs. Arkon reared up over the man, his back turned to Aymee, and struck Cyrus quickly, repeatedly, savagely.
She couldn’t see the damage, but she heard it. Saw the blood dripping from Arkon’s arms.
Aymee backed away from them and searched out Macy. She stood in Jax’s embrace; his skin was still crimson, and his shoulders rose and fell with heavy, ragged breaths. Macy brushed her thumb over his cheek soothingly.
Dracchus stalked toward Randall; the other rangers were dead.
“Stop!” Aymee yelled, inserting herself between Dracchus and Randall. She held her hands out in front of her, backed up until she was standing over the survivin
g ranger, and glanced at him over her shoulder.
Randall looked up at her. His face was pale, his eyes glazed, his hands covered in blood. “Shouldn’t have let it come to this. Sorry.”
“I tried to tell you,” Aymee said, returning her attention to Dracchus.
“He is one of them,” Dracchus said.
“He helped us. He stopped one of them from shooting Jax.”
Dracchus turned his head, glancing over his shoulder toward Chad’s body. He seemed to consider it for several seconds before finally grunting. “Will he live?”
Aymee stepped over Randall, crouched beside him, and gently pulled his hand away from his wound. It didn’t look as though anything serious had been hit, but she couldn’t be sure without further examination. She removed his sling and folded it, pressing it to the wound. “If we can get the bleeding to stop, yes.” She looked up. “Macy, I need you.”
Macy nodded and spoke softly to Jax. He hesitated before releasing her and followed directly on her heels as she approached Aymee.
“Keep pressure here, Mace.”
Once Macy had pressed her hand over the bloodied cloth on Randall’s stomach, Aymee stood and went to Arkon.
Pushing up off Cyrus, Arkon swayed backward unsteadily. Blood and gore dripped from his hands. He turned and met Aymee’s gaze, chest moving rapidly with short, shallow breaths. His skin reverted to its normal color and then paled. She couldn’t tell how much of the blood on his torso was his own.
She ran to him, catching him before he fell. His weight bore down on her, his body slick with blood.
“Dracchus!” she cried, then lowered her voice, fighting tears. “Don’t you dare die on me, Arkon.”
“Not dying. Just...dizzy.”
Within a second, Dracchus was beside Arkon. He took hold of Arkon’s arm and slung it over his shoulders, relieving Aymee of the weight.
“We need to get him to the infirmary. Both of them. Jax, can you take Randall?”
“Yes,” Jax replied.
“Macy, keep pressure on his wound,” Aymee said, then moved ahead of Dracchus, leading him into the hall. Hurriedly, she entered the code. The door groaned open.
Knowing Dracchus was right behind her, she raced through the hallway, turning right at the intersection, and slapped the button to open the infirmary doors.
“Lay them on the tables.” She ran to the cabinets, thankful she’d taken time to familiarize herself with the supplies on hand.
Her hands shook as she opened the cabinets. She paused and drew in several deep breaths.
Calm.
Panicking or crying wouldn’t help Arkon. She needed to distance herself from her emotions, from the pain in her heart, and focus on her knowledge. These weren’t the first bullet wounds she’d dealt with.
Releasing the seal on her suit, she tugged her arms out — she’d need her hands unrestricted to work properly — and tied the sleeves behind her back to keep her chest covered. She brushed the tears from her eyes, scrubbed her hands at the small sink, and gathered the tools and supplies she’d need to remove the bullets and seal the wounds, placing them on a cart.
When she turned back toward the room, Arkon and Randall were already stretched out on the tables. Macy kept her hands over Randall’s wound, and Dracchus and Jax stood beside Arkon, Jax’s hands on his friend’s abdomen to staunch the bleeding.
Wheeling the tray to Arkon, Aymee grabbed the scanner hanging overhead and directed it over his abdomen. “Lift your hands, Jax.” She pressed the button on the side of the device.
It hummed to life. Beams of light bathed Arkon, illuminating the blood vessels beneath his skin with a soft red glow. This was far more sophisticated than the scanners they had in The Watch — those displayed through a screen, rather than directly on the patient. Her fingers fumbled over the touch panel on the scanner until she found the depth adjustment and used it to view deeper inside his body.
The differences and similarities in their anatomy were apparent. His three hearts beat weakly, pumping blood through large arteries. The scanner picked out the bullets and highlighted them as non-organic objects; she ran her eyes over his abdomen, studying it closely, and finally breathed a small sigh of relief.
No major arteries had been hit, and the damage to his internal organs appeared minimal.
Aymee wiped away the blood and bits of carnage from his stomach with a towel and cleaned around the wounds with antiseptic. She picked up the anesthetic injector and dialed up the dosage slightly; there was an entire science behind determining the proper dosage, but such anesthetics weren’t common in The Watch, and she didn’t have time.
“If this does its job, you’re going to be nice and numb, okay?” she said as she pressed the gun to his neck and injected him.
“I will heal,” Arkon slurred.
Aymee glanced up; his eyes were closed, his features drawn in discomfort, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. Despite his attempt to comfort her, he was far too pale for Aymee’s liking.
“You will,” she replied, “but you don’t have a choice this time. I’m helping you along.”
She bit her lip and watched his face as she pressed a finger into one of his wounds; he made no reaction.
“Jax, be ready to clear blood away for me.” Aymee took up her tools and, using the scanner to guide her, removed the bullets one by one. Jax mopped up the blood as she worked, and she couldn’t help but notice the strangely washed-out cast of his skin; he was worried for his friend.
“How are you doing, Randall?” she called as she worked.
“Tired. Of getting shot.” His voice was strained and weak.
A pang of guilt rose in her chest. She swept it aside; no room for emotion, now.
Once the last bullet was out, she used another tool to seal the internal damage and close his wounds. Despite the room’s climate control, sweat trickled down her face and back. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and set the tool down.
She cupped Arkon’s cheek. He didn’t respond to her touch.
“Rest,” she said, pressing a kiss to his lips. “And remember, you’re not allowed to go.”
One more patient to treat.
An hour had passed in relative silence since Aymee finished tending Randall’s wound. She sat beside Arkon as he slept, and Macy remained nearby, her presence providing a bit of comfort. Jax and Dracchus had left to search for more boats once they’d been told they could do nothing more for Arkon.
Aymee held Arkon’s hand, brushing her thumb over his. She hated this. Hated not knowing.
He’d lost so much blood. Kraken were tougher than humans, but to what extent? How much damage was too much, when did their bodies reach their limits? She’d done everything in her power. Now, idleness had invited her fears back in.
The door slid open; Dracchus and Jax entered.
“How is he?” Jax asked.
“Stable. Sleeping,” Aymee replied.
“Were there any more boats?” Macy asked.
“Nothing nearby.”
“We need to leave this place,” Dracchus said.
“Arkon needs to rest,” Aymee said, looking at Dracchus, “and I’m not leaving Randall behind again.”
“We will bring the other human. It is too great a risk to allow him to return to your people.”
“Will you hurt him?” she asked carefully.
“He acted in defense of Jax,” Dracchus replied. “I have no reason to do him harm.”
“We only have two suits,” Macy said.
“There are more in a room near the barracks.” Aymee settled her hand on Arkon’s chest. His heartbeats were steady, but still distressingly weak. “Arkon and I found them when we explored this place.”
Dracchus moved toward Randall and stared down at him. “Then we need to go. We will carry them if we must.”
With no other choice, Aymee left the infirmary to retrieve a suit, bringing two extra masks — one for her and one for Macy. Randall woke as she was tu
gging off his pants.
“I knew I’d win you over eventually,” he mumbled. Though his eyes were closed, he smirked.
Aymee chuckled. “You’d be surprised how many men I’ve undressed. It doesn’t make you special.”
“Could’ve let me pretend for a little while longer.” He was quiet for a time as she finished removing his clothing. “Did I ever stand a chance?”
Aymee glanced up, but Randall’s eyes were still closed. “Had I not already met Arkon, you might have.”
“Not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.” He swallowed thickly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Randall finally opened his eyes and lifted his head, glancing from Aymee to Jax, who stood on the opposite side of the bed. “What’s going on?”
“We’re leaving. We need to get you in a PDS.”
“A what?”
“A diving suit.”
Randall’s brow creased. “Why would I need a diving suit?”
“Because you would die otherwise,” Jax said.
When Randall swung his gaze from Jax to Aymee, his expression was troubled and his eyes questioning.
“They’re taking us with them,” she said.
He inhaled deeply and reverted to a calm, neutral expression. “What does that mean for me?”
“You will be under our protection,” Jax replied.
“A prisoner?”
“You saved a kraken from harm,” Dracchus said, “but we cannot allow you to return to your people. You know too much about us, now.”
“One of the rangers is already on his way back to Fort Culver,” Randall said.
“There was another?” Dracchus demanded.
How hadn’t Aymee realized it yet? Seven of them had been on the stage in the town hall. Only six had come to the submarine pen.
Randall let his head fall back and sighed. “Cyrus sent Jon Mason to Fort Culver after we were brought back into town. Did it while Aymee’s father was patching me up, so I couldn’t stop him. Wanted to make sure my father knew the kraken were real.”
Skin flashing crimson, Dracchus darted toward Randall, lashing out with an arm; Jax intervened, blocking him. Randall lifted his head, eyes gleaming — but not with fear.
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