Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3)

by Tiffany Roberts

  Everything hurt, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it in.

  Melaina’s cries broke through the haze of pain.

  Larkin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and turned toward the young kraken.

  Rhea held Melaina atop a nearby bed, her features tight with worry. Her wide eyes darted from Melaina to Macy and Arkon.

  Larkin stepped toward Rhea, legs threatening to buckle beneath her.

  Not going to fall, damnit.

  Rhea turned her panicked gaze to Larkin. “I cannot lose her,” she said frantically. “I cannot.” She shivered as she drew Melaina closer.

  Larkin put her arms around them, offering what little comfort she could. She forced her breathing to slow and clenched her teeth against the poison’s effects on her own body.

  “We found it!” Macy exclaimed. There was no response. “Aymee?”

  Larkin felt herself fading. Impossible heat suffused her, undiminished by the chilled sweat coating her skin, and the room seemed to be spinning around her. But she held on to Rhea and Melaina. She couldn’t do nothing. She couldn’t…

  “Aymee!” Arkon roared.

  “We’ll be okay,” Larkin whispered. “She’ll be okay.”

  Larkin slipped into darkness.

  Chapter 20

  The season of storms usually meant chaos beneath the waves, even when the skies were clear, but the sea was surprisingly calm today. The sun shone bright, casting thin, faint, dancing shadows over the seafloor, and the currents flowed no stronger nor weaker than normal. Sea creatures carried on with their lives all around while plants and grass swayed lazily with the constant motion of the water.

  Dracchus frowned and shifted his gaze to Randall and Ikaros, who swam side-by-side a few body lengths in front of him. The human moved his head in constant search, and the prixxir had its long face tendrils — whiskers, Randall called them — extended in all directions.

  Larkin would have loved to be out here, to be doing something to contribute. Dracchus had seen the sparkle of excitement in her eyes when he’d mentioned the hunt. Her excitement had soon faded; he couldn’t be sure whether she’d noticed some hesitance in him, but she’d told him she couldn’t go. Macy and Aymee had planned their indoor picnic for today, and Larkin had promised the younglings she would attend.

  It had saved Dracchus the trouble of denying her, much to his relief — though that relief wasn’t without accompanying guilt.

  He looked to the kraken swimming in loose formation ahead of Randall and Ikaros. Some, he trusted — Vasil had not been broken by their ordeal on the ship and hadn’t allowed himself to be consumed by hatred, and Brexes, though rarely vocal, had spoken several times with Randall and made no effort to hide that he enjoyed hunting alongside the human.

  Neo swam in the leader’s position at the center of the formation, with Kronus to his left. Until Neo had organized the hunt that morning, Dracchus hadn’t seen him or any of his followers in the Facility’s main building since the confrontation over a week prior.

  Kronus had been civil, but strained, while the hunting party formed in the Mess. Neo, however, had been in a strange spirit. He’d offered no false friendships and made little effort to mask the hatred in his eyes, but his rage had been replaced by an odd smugness. He’d insisted that Dracchus, Jax, and Arkon participate in this hunt, claiming they had neglected the needs of their own people for too long.

  His goading hadn’t worked; Jax and Arkon had remained behind. Despite the diminishment of outward hostility, they would not leave their mates and young unprotected. Larkin would be safe with them.

  Neo signaled the group to slow as they neared a wide stretch of sand on the ocean floor, broken only by irregular, jutting stones. While the surrounding rock formations and bits of coral teemed with life, few creatures crossed the open ground. For now, it was braved only by small, solitary fish and a few slow, segmented crawling creatures.

  The next signs came rapidly.

  Down. We await, in the old way.

  The kraken spread out in a half-circle around the open ground, dropping into positions in the rocks, harpoons and spears at the ready. Randall took a spot beside Dracchus, and Ikaros dropped onto his belly beside the human.

  Dracchus frowned as he watched the surface shadows flutter over the sand. Neo was aware of the new techniques Arkon had improvised for baiting sandseekers, which had saved kraken hunting parties countless hours of unnecessary waiting over the last year. Was he ignoring that method out of spite? Neo had formed the hunt, and Dracchus would not challenge his leadership unless circumstances became dire, but Dracchus couldn’t ignore his rising suspicions.

  At a glance, this decision supported claims from Kronus and Neo that they were working to preserve kraken traditions currently threatened by humans and human thought, but that stance had always been superficial. Neo, Kronus, and their followers had ignored the traditions that hindered their true goal — removing humans from the Facility.

  Randall waved, drawing Dracchus’s attention. The human was on his side, harpoon gun laid on the rock next to him. He moved his hands and arms in a series of signs.

  Why are we waiting?

  With Arkon’s help, Dracchus and Randall had discovered detailed information in the computer on human sign language. Much of it was vaguely familiar to the kraken, and Arkon guessed their ancestors had adapted the visual language to incorporate their more expressive tentacles and color changes.

  Dracchus had developed a working knowledge of the human version, and Randall could decipher all but the most complex kraken signs.

  Don’t know, Dracchus replied.

  Randall’s signs were slightly forceful, conveying his frustration. Many fish nearby. He swept his arm in an arc, indicating the creatures all around. Just one school of fish driven in the right direction would be enough to bait out some sandseekers.

  Frown deepening, Dracchus glanced up. The surface wavered and sparkled only a few body lengths above. Pure sunlight streamed through the water, cast by a sun positioned directly overhead.

  Waiting like this, they might be out past sunset.

  Dracchus had once waited out a hiding rocksnapper for three days without losing his patience. He’d been tempted many times to enter its den and drag it out, but he’d refrained. Now, the thought of even a few hours’ wait made him restless.

  He understood Jax and Arkon’s impatience when they’d been eager to return to their mates. Had Dracchus known what it felt like to miss someone so deeply on those occasions, he might’ve been more compassionate toward both males.

  But this was his duty to his people, kraken and human alike. To protect and provide.

  We do not lead this hunt, Dracchus signed. We must be patient.

  Randall frowned behind his mask, undoubtedly concerned for Rhea, Melaina, and Larkin.

  The human rolled onto his stomach and faced the hunting grounds, sliding the harpoon gun to lay before him. He absently scratched Ikaros’s chin when the prixxir nudged his hand. A few moments later, he held up three fingers before gesturing toward three small rocks jutting out of the sand.

  Three lurking sandseekers, detected by the technology in Randall’s diving suit. Once this hunt ended, the kraken would need to abandon this location for a time to allow the beasts to repopulate.

  The sun crawled gradually overhead, altering the shadows cast by the rocks, plants, coral, and fish. Dracchus scraped a claw on the stone beneath him; it was the only outward sign of impatience he allowed himself. He focused on the subtle flow of currents over his skin, on the constant sound of water in motion, on the open ground. All the while, his hearts pounded steadily, and a tiny spark burned in his chest.

  Anticipation.

  His body was ready for action, eager for it. However long the wait during a hunt, the burst of activity at its climax was infinitely more memorable, more powerful. Hours or days of patience collapsed into a few seconds of thrilling action. Dracchus wasn’t interested in the biochemistry at play
during those moments, though he admired Arkon’s interest in such knowledge. The kill brought an undeniable rush, regardless of the underlying workings of that sensation. But something else entirely outshone that instant of life and death.

  Dracchus was more excited for the aftermath. Not tending to the kill, or hauling it home, but the gratefulness and appreciation of the other kraken when the hunters brought in fresh food. Knowing that his brethren would not suffer hunger, if only for a short while, made the whole process worthwhile.

  He pictured Sarina’s smile upon his return and imagined Larkin’s joyful greeting. Imagined how he would show his mate how much he’d missed her.

  Ikaros lifted his head suddenly, drawing Dracchus’s attention. The prixxir’s whiskers were perked, dark eyes fixed on something in the distance. Ikaros’s uncertain chirrup came to Dracchus through the water; a series of drawn-out clicks that rose in pitch as they faded.

  Dracchus narrowed his eyes. Ikaros was staring at a pair of approaching objects. The sunlight shimmering on the water’s surface silhouetted their forms, but Dracchus knew they were boats.

  He flashed yellow in warning. The boats were closing in rapidly, and due to the position of the sun, cast no warning shadows ahead of themselves. The kraken could outswim the vessels, but only if they reacted quickly.

  He gestured toward the boats when the others looked in his direction. Their expressions turned grim. Vasil’s fingers curled around the haft of his spear, and he pressed his lips into a tight line.

  Dracchus glanced at Randall. The human’s face was strained, with brows angled down toward his nose, jaw clenched, and eyes wide.

  Are you with me? Dracchus signed.

  Randall stared at Dracchus for several moments, his heavy breaths briefly fogging the inside of his mask. Taking his harpoon gun by the barrel, he nodded.

  Dracchus glanced at their surroundings. The water here was relatively shallow, but not nearly enough so to restrict the movement of the boats, and the rocks would provide no cover from attacks from above.

  To the deep, Dracchus signaled.

  Neo flared crimson and rose from his waiting place. The stiffness of his motions spoke of an underlying fury. No! We fight this time, he signed, and then spread the fingers on one hand and snapped them back together.

  Make the kill.

  Memories of the night they were captured flitted through Dracchus’s mind. The kraken were armed this time, but what good would it do when their view beyond the surface was naturally obscured, while the humans could see down unhindered?

  We must go, Dracchus signed.

  The others looked between Neo and Dracchus, seemingly torn on who to obey. Their duty bound them by honor to follow the hunt leader, but at least a few of them must have understood that, however weak and fragile humans appeared, this battle would exact a heavy price.

  This is not worth our blood. Dracchus removed his eyes from Neo for only a moment to glance at the boats; time was nearly up.

  Kronus touched Neo’s shoulder, calling his attention. He mimicked Dracchus’s signs with strengthened emphasis.

  This is not worth our blood.

  The red of Neo’s skin deepened, and he bared his teeth in a scowl. He thrust a finger in the direction of the boats and swung his gaze over all the other kraken, challenging them to disobey, to oppose his decision. On the edge of Dracchus’s vision, Randall moved closer, harpoon gun in both hands, and Ikaros raised his spine fins defensively.

  Before anyone could offer a response, the humans launched their attack.

  A powerful thunk from the surface sent ripples outward from the nearest boat. A large harpoon, longer than Dracchus’s arm, hit the water and sped toward Neo and Kronus in a torrent of bubbles.

  Neo darted aside. The harpoon hit Kronus low on his abdomen, shearing through to emerge from his back and clack against the rock behind him. Dracchus surged forward, flashing yellow. He wouldn’t allow this to happen again. No kraken would be taken.

  Another thump.

  Something punched Dracchus’s tentacle hard enough to push him to the bottom, kicking up a cloud of loose sand. The pain was distant, but the pressure extended clear through the affected limb. He glanced down as the sand cleared. A harpoon jutted from one of his rear tentacles. A fine mist of blood drifted into the water.

  The ground beneath him shifted, and he snapped his head to the side to see a sandseeker erupt from the bottom. The creature’s mandibles spread wide, revealing its toothy mouth, as its small, paddle-like legs propelled it toward Dracchus.

  Dracchus rolled aside as quickly as he could. The harpoon grated against his torn flesh, but he ignored the agony. He felt the impact of the sandseeker beside him, felt the displacement of water as the creature thrashed in search of the prey it had so nearly captured. He dragged himself away as the sandseeker burrowed into the sand.

  He swung his gaze toward Kronus as the water cleared. The ochre kraken scrambled to grab hold of the rocks as the harpoon tether went taut and dragged him toward the boat. Neo held the line in both hands, battling its pull.

  More projectiles hit the water, trailing small streams of bubbles behind them. These lost momentum before making it halfway to Dracchus, lingering briefly until their paths reversed and they drifted toward the surface. The little objects were familiar to Dracchus.

  Sleep bullets.

  Neo stared up at the new projectiles, and the crimson of his skin wavered. Releasing the tether, he fled toward deep water. Several other kraken scattered at the sight of his panic.

  Dracchus buried his claws in the seafloor and pulled himself toward the struggling Kronus. Resistance against his forward momentum began suddenly, increasing the pressure on his wound. His claws raked across the sand as the tether dragged him backward. He couldn’t find the purchase to anchor himself in place.

  A weight settled on his back; the soft, pliable scales could only belong to Ikaros. Dracchus looked over his shoulder to see the prixxir close his mouth around the tether. Ikaros swung his tail to counteract the tension on the line, granting Dracchus a bit of slack.

  Randall sped by, swimming toward Kronus. The ochre kraken held onto the bottom only by his hands, arms stretched and muscles straining.

  Dracchus’s gut clenched in fear. Kronus had made no secret of his hatred for humans. What would he do when Randall neared?

  Without hesitation, Randall grabbed hold of Kronus’s tether and drew a knife from his thigh. He set the blade to the line, sawing frantically. Strands of the tether snapped with metallic twangs that resonated through the water.

  Brexes arrived at Kronus’s side and took hold of the rocks with his tentacles before reaching up to grasp the tether, leaning back to alleviate some of the pressure.

  Vasil rushed toward Dracchus from the right. His spear glinted in the sunlight as he moved behind Dracchus and set to work on the tether. Vibrations pulsed through the line, along the harpoon, and spread into Dracchus’s limbs, producing twinges of new, unique pain.

  Dracchus was freed a moment after Kronus’s tether broke.

  Brexes helped Kronus flee, trailing blood behind them, as the severed tethers sped toward the surface. Vasil grasped Dracchus’s arm and helped the big kraken right himself. Ikaros charged to Randall and gently closed his mouth around the human’s arm, tugging.

  Randall stared up at the boats for another heartbeat before turning away. He and Ikaros fell into place beside Dracchus and Vasil, and the four began their hurried trip home.

  Dracchus focused on his pain, on the uncomfortable weapon still embedded in his tentacle, on the thundering of his hearts.

  He couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge his rage.

  Not yet.

  A lone kraken waited outside the Facility’s entry door, tentacles moving only to maintain his position, when Dracchus and the others arrived. Dracchus frowned when he realized it was Ector, the elder. One of the hunters who’d taught him all he knew as a youngling, many years past.

  Ector’s wri
nkled face was grave as he surveyed the returning party. Dracchus and his companions had caught up to Brexes and Kronus during the journey, and the speed with which they’d moved would have taxed any of them even before they were injured.

  Kronus’s skin was pale. He had one hand wrapped around the harpoon protruding from his gut, arm trembling.

  Opening the door, Ector ushered them inside. Dracchus wasn’t sure how they all fit — five kraken, a human, and a prixxir — but the room drained quickly.

  “Where is Neo?” Dracchus growled as soon as his head was out of the water.

  “I have not seen him,” Ector replied. “But you have something more pressing to attend.”

  “My injury can wait.”

  “That is not what I mean, Dracchus. We must go to the infirmary at once.”

  There was a gentle hiss as Randall removed his mask. “What’s going on?”

  Ector’s eyes shifted to look beyond Dracchus. “It is best you see for yourselves before rash judgments are made.”

  Something in the elder’s tone gave Dracchus pause — an uncharacteristic hesitance, an unfamiliar weariness. He glanced over his shoulder, following Ector’s gaze.

  Brexes and Vasil supported Kronus, one on each side, and blood still seeped around the shaft of the harpoon impaling him. Behind them stood a pale-faced Randall with Ikaros at his feet. The expressions in the room were difficult to read — shock, distress, fear, anger; all were represented.

  “Kronus needs aid,” Brexes said. “Someone should seek out the human healer and have her meet us.”

  “She is already there,” Ector replied.

  A chill swept through Dracchus’s blood, strengthened by the contrasting heat of his rage.

  The instant the light turned green, he opened the door and rushed through, pulling ahead of the others despite his injury. If Ector insisted they go to the infirmary, and Aymee was already there, it couldn’t mean anything good. He didn’t allow himself to consider the possibilities. He couldn’t bring himself to face them.