Heart of the Deep

by Tiffany Roberts

  The men’s’ shouts grew more frantic. “Fire! Fire!”

  She stared with wide eyes at the damage. Coaxed by the wind, the flames spread quickly. The foremast and sails were ablaze within moments.

  Realization crept up her spine, icy in the wake of the fire’s heat — the ship was burning, and the people aboard would burn with it unless they dove into the sea. But how could anyone last in those violent waves? They’d have to choose between drowning or burning alive.

  No.

  She wouldn’t accept that.

  The kraken!

  The churning ocean wouldn’t be a problem for them, but they didn’t stand a chance against the fire while they were locked in those cages. She needed to free them.

  A light off the side of the ship caught her attention. She battled the tilting deck, leg muscles burning, to take hold of the port rail and peer over it. One of the smaller boats bobbed on the swelling waves nearby, cast in lantern light made eerie by the surrounding darkness.

  “Larkin!”

  She turned to see her father running toward her.

  He gripped her arm when he reached her. “We need to get everyone to the other boat!”

  “I know,” she called over the wind, looking back toward the light. Anyone who attempted to reach it would drown.

  Unless they have something to guide them…

  But throwing a rope to the other ship in the dark, with this wind, would be nearly impossible, and they didn’t have time to attempt it.

  When the idea hit her, she didn’t waste time.

  “Wait here!” she yelled as she hurried away from her father. She didn’t stop when she heard him shout her name.

  The harpoon guns — meant as the back-up plan if the tranquilizers didn’t work or there were more kraken than they’d anticipated — were still mounted along the outside wall of her father’s cabin. She tugged one down and rushed back to him. The weapons were old tech, from the days of the colonization, each with a bundle of line attached.

  She could only hope the line was durable enough — and long enough — for what she needed.

  Her father took a single look at the harpoon gun, met her eyes, and nodded. She knew the expression on his face. It was one she’d seen too little as of late. You’ve got this, Elle.

  Stabilizing herself against the rail, she raised the gun and took aim, focusing on the small boat. Distance, wind, the weight of the harpoon, the movement of the two ships; all were factors in whether she’d succeed. She only hoped she wouldn’t hit one of the men on board.

  She took in a single deep breath, released it in a slow exhale, and pulled the trigger. The harpoon flew from the gun with a thump, and she lost it in the darkness. She couldn’t hear an impact over the wind; her grip tightened on the gun.

  The line went taut. Her father grabbed onto it as it tugged her forward, throwing his weight backward to counteract its pull.

  The light on the other ship flashed, and, distantly, a bell rang.

  Larkin ran off some slack, and together they lashed the line around the nearest mooring post. Once it was tied off, she wedged the gun against the railing for good measure.

  “It’s secure!” she said.

  Her father barked orders over the storm. Several men gathered at the post — far too few. Had some already abandoned ship or been washed overboard?

  “We need to send everyone across, now,” Larkin said. “That boat’s going to get full, but we don’t have a choice.”

  “Go, Elle!”

  Larkin stared up at her father. A dozen emotions flickered across his face, cast in an orange glow and harsh shadows by the growing flames, though his expression changed little from the stern mask of the commander. The sorrow and pain in his eyes, the hint of desperation, almost broke her resolve.

  “Go!” he repeated. “I’m not letting you do anything stupid, damnit!”

  Larkin threw herself at him, taking him into a tight embrace. “Get them off the boat,” she said as she slipped the keys off his belt. “I’ll be right back.”

  She turned and ducked between two men, squeezing through the frantic press of bodies to emerge on the other side. She raced across the deck toward the brig, not slowing when her father shouted her name. The entryway was open and unguarded; she hoped Lance was safe, but there was no time to search for him.

  Hands on the wall to maintain her balance, Larkin hurried down the ramp and grabbed the lantern at the bottom. She lifted the bar and shoved the door open.

  The ship lurched as she crossed the threshold, pitching her forward. She twisted to protect the lantern, hitting the metal bars of Dracchus’s cell with her shoulder.

  She groaned, gritting her teeth against the pain in her limbs, and clutched the bar behind her as the ship righted itself.

  Once the floor was somewhat stable, she turned and fumbled through the keys until she found the one that fit the lock. She flung open the cell door and moved inside, dropping to her knees in front of Dracchus.

  His amber eyes were alert as they met her gaze. If he was fearful, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it. “What is happening, Larkin?”

  “The ship’s on fire,” she said, nearly dropping the keys as she unlocked his collar.

  “Should you not leave?” he asked.

  “I’m not going to leave you here to die.” She moved to his wrists next, freeing them one at a time.

  He lowered his arms stiffly and groaned as he straightened his elbows and curled his fingers. The popping of his joints was audible even over the fury of the wind and sea.

  Reaching into her boot, she pulled out a small knife and cut the netting around his tentacles.

  Dracchus sagged onto his side, catching himself on an arm that nearly buckled beneath his weight. He kept his head down as his broad back rose and fell with several deep, shaky breaths. He spread his tentacles once she’d cut enough of the netting, tearing apart what remained.

  Larkin clutched the bars for support as she stepped out of Dracchus’s cell. She hung the lantern on the wall before making her way toward Vasil. Once his cell was open, she set about releasing him from his bonds.

  He moved with the same sluggishness as Dracchus, limbs trembling, as he slowly dragged himself toward the door.

  The ship creaked and moaned, and thunder boomed, rattling wood and metal all around. Larkin turned to exit Vasil’s cell but stopped abruptly as she nearly collided with a black wall of muscle.

  Dracchus loomed in the space between the cells, erect on his tentacles. She’d thought him large while he was restrained, but she hadn’t understood the breadth of him; her eye level was at his chest and his shoulders nearly spanned the entire walkway.

  She’d known men with commanding presences, but Dracchus dominated this space.

  “Here.” She shoved the keys and the knife into his huge hand. “Free your friend and get off the ship.”

  His brow furrowed when he looked down at the items on his palm. “I will not leave you to die, either.”

  “My father is waiting for me above deck. There’s another boat. Just get yourselves to safety.”

  Dracchus frowned.

  She heard Vasil move behind her and glanced over her shoulder. He wasn’t as large as Dracchus, but he still towered over Larkin. Being surrounded by them made her uncomfortable; they could tear her apart effortlessly. After what her father had done, what reason did they have to spare her? Why would they be selective if they chose to take revenge on the humans aboard these ships?

  Finally, Dracchus closed his fist around the knife and keys. He shifted aside, opening a narrow path for her. “Go.”

  As she moved through the gap, her chest brushed his abdomen. She stilled and stared up at him. “Hurry, Dracchus. Before the fire traps you down here.”

  His gaze held her in place, enveloped her, deeper and more mysterious than the ocean. Nostrils flaring, he leaned his face closer to hers. “We will survive. See to yourself, Larkin.”

  She lingered, searching his eyes. Commo
n sense returned a moment later. She raced through the door and up the ramp.

  The heat of the blaze hit her like she’d run into a wall at the top of the ramp. Her first breath had her coughing as the wind wafted smoke into her face.

  Lifting her hand to shield her eyes, she stumbled toward the spot where they’d tethered the harpoon. Her father’s form materialized in the haze. As he assisted a man onto the line, he turned his head, squinting through the smoke until he caught sight of her.

  She ran to him.

  “Where the hell were you?” he demanded, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer. Beads of sweat coated his skin, glistening in the firelight. He seemed to have aged years while she was gone.

  “There was something I needed to do,” she said.

  “Get your ass to that boat, Elle.” His tone indicated there’d be a tongue-lashing for her later.

  She didn’t fight him. Throwing her leg over the rail, she gripped the rope and looked across the water, visible only because of the vibrant, reflected flames on its surface. The smaller boat was a ghostly glow twenty or thirty meters away. A man’s head bobbed in the water as he pulled himself toward the other ship, clutching the line desperately.

  The waves swelled, lifting the smaller boat high and drawing the tether suddenly taut. The man was flung out of the water, losing his hold on the line, and disappeared under the surface when he came back down.

  Larkin gritted her teeth. How many had they lost so far?

  “You will make it across,” Nicholas said behind her. “You’re not getting out of the ass chewing you have coming.”

  “Maybe give me something to look forward to?” She attempted a smile and failed.

  Her father placed his hands on her waist, steadying her as she lifted her other leg over the rail. She grasped the line with both hands, wrapped her legs around it, and crossed her ankles before she lay on her belly. Dark water churned below her, too close for her comfort.

  Larkin glanced over her shoulder. “See you on the other side, Dad.”

  “Damn right you will, Elle.”

  The line sagged when she pulled herself forward, and Larkin’s stomach twisted into a knot. She squeezed the line with her thighs as she swung upside down. The thrashing water was less than a meter beneath her, its impenetrable black highlighted by the hellish glow of the burning ship. The roar of the waves was deafening.

  She pulled herself along the rope, hand-over-hand, as harsh winds and angry waves competed to see which would break the pathetic little human’s hold first. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away from the leaping water. An eternity passed in the span of a few seconds, but she kept moving.

  She would make it to the other boat.

  The roiling ocean swelled again, forcing the two ships closer together.

  Larkin clung to the rope as she plummeted into the chilly water. She kicked to the surface, disoriented and sputtering, and swung her gaze to the first thing that caught her attention — the burning ship.

  Gunshots sounded over the cacophony, and her heart stuck in her throat. A dark figure hurtled over the railing, tentacles trailing in the air as it came toward her. She caught a hint of crimson skin just before the figure slammed into her.

  The immense weight forced her underwater and broke her hold on the rope.

  The human male beside the commander writhed on the deck. His hands could not stem the flow of blood from his shredded abdomen; he’d taken the brunt of Neo’s charge toward the commander.

  Dracchus didn’t know if Neo had been hit or not. The commander had drawn a gun from his belt and fired several quick shots. It hadn’t been enough to drop the kraken, but it had forced Neo to dive over the side and into the sea below.

  Now the commander leaned over the railing, aiming his weapon at something in the water, the cords on his neck standing out as he shouted.

  Vasil moved forward.

  Dracchus caught him by the shoulder, forcing him to turn. “Get to safety.” He gestured to the opposite side of the boat. “Return home and warn our humans that Neo is a threat.”

  Vasil’s muscles tensed under Dracchus’s palm. He glanced at the commander. “Ending him will protect our people, Dracchus.”

  “I will deal with him. You have witnessed much, and you will tell our people the tale without bias. That is your role. Now go. Dive deep and swim quickly.”

  With a nod, Vasil darted to the railing and dove over.

  “Larkin!” the Commander’s voice rose over the roaring fire, wind, and sea.

  Dracchus’s hearts pounded. Was Larkin in the water when Neo leapt down?

  He rushed across the deck, reaching the commander as the human was climbing over the side. Dracchus caught the back of the human’s shirt and dragged him back. The commander’s legs slipped out from beneath him, but Dracchus didn’t allow the man to fall. Dracchus reached forward and closed his free hand over the pistol, tearing it from the human’s grasp. He threw the weapon into the flames.

  “Let me go, you son of a bitch!” the commander yelled, struggling to free himself. “My daughter’s down there!”

  Dracchus shook him hard, stunning the human. “Your daughter is mine now. That is the price for your life.” He thrust the commander away.

  The man’s cry of rage and anguish was cut off as he tumbled over the wood planks.

  Dracchus turned and vaulted over the railing, dropping into the water.

  The sea was chaos — waves thrust upward like jabbing spears and fell again with equal force, crashing into one another and pulling away. The sound was overwhelming. The light of the fire barely penetrated the water’s surface, but it was enough to illuminate the tangled shapes of Neo and Larkin.

  Neo held Larkin underwater, hands wrapped around her throat and skin pulsing crimson. Larkin clutched his forearms and kicked wildly, but her blows had little effect; she couldn’t match his strength.

  Wisps of blood streamed from several small cuts on Larkin’s arms and face, mingling with more from unseen wounds on Neo’s body. The clouds dissipated casually, unconcerned with what was going on nearby.

  Larkin’s struggles weakened. Bubbles flowed from her mouth; she was running out of air.

  Though she was an enemy, though she was human, Larkin was his.

  Dracchus surged forward. He directed all his momentum into a single blow, slamming his fist into Neo’s jaw.

  Neo’s grip on Larkin loosened as he tumbled sideways. Dracchus forced himself between the two and broke Neo’s hold. Despite his dazed state, Neo raked his claws across Dracchus’s back, creating fresh trails of agony.

  Dracchus wrapped his arms around Larkin and pushed to the surface.

  She sucked in a huge, ragged breath, and then fell into a coughing fit. Her body shook, and the force of her coughs rattled through Dracchus. He placed a hand on her hair and tilted her head back, checking her neck; watery blood flowed from several minor cuts, and bruises were forming on her pale skin.

  She struggled in his arms, dragging her blunt claws across his skin, hitting him with boots, elbows, and knees. Dracchus tightened his hold on her.

  “Be still, Larkin,” he rumbled.

  Her frantic gaze lifted to his face as though seeing him for the first time, and she ceased her struggling. She shivered against him.

  Neo surfaced a moment later, a body length away. Dracchus turned, shifting Larkin to one side to keep himself between her and the other kraken.

  “Even after what they have done, you defend them?” Neo shouted over the roaring ocean.

  “They have done no worse than you would, if given the chance,” Dracchus replied.

  “I demand her death!”

  “You will demand nothing. Be thankful you have your life.”

  Nero snarled, baring his teeth as he advanced. “You threaten me, your own kind, while you protect that filthy human slit?”

  Larkin stiffened. The warm, steady flow of her breath against his neck intensified.

  Where was the
honor in this? Neo, Kronus, and their fellows claimed to uphold the ways of their people, but attacking a defenseless female violated all those traditions.

  “Cry off, Neo, or I will—”

  A loud boom sounded over the other noises, interrupting Dracchus’s words. Something hit the water with a hissing splash in front of Neo.

  Not thunder.

  Dracchus turned his head toward the smaller boat in time to see another gun-flash and hear the next boom. Another round struck the water, spraying mist into Dracchus’s face.

  Neo growled and vanished below the surface.

  “Hold your breath,” Dracchus said.

  “What? No! The boat is there. Just let me go.” She loosened her hold on him.

  Turning away from the boats, he swam, adjusting his rhythm to account for his hold on her. “Hold your breath, Larkin.”

  Another gunshot. Dracchus didn’t know if they were firing normal bullets or the sleep bullets Larkin had used to capture the kraken, but he didn’t intend to find out.

  “Dracchus, no! Take me—”

  He dipped down, and before the water closed over their heads, he heard her deep inhalation.

  Chapter 8

  The rain began shortly after they left the ships behind, silencing Larkin’s repeated demands to be returned to her comrades. She offered no resistance when he shifted her onto his back to free his arms. Her body was soft and warm against him, and the feel of her hold around his neck and shoulders was surprisingly comforting.

  He’d never been one to feel lonely — not until recently — but he was grateful for her nearness amidst the restless, impossibly dark waves, which were illuminated only by occasional flashes of lightning.

  When the storm finally broke and the water eased, a hint of dawn loomed at the edge of his vision.

  The sunrise gave Dracchus a target — the sun always came up over land, and they needed land to rest and recover from the night’s ordeals. He swam toward the light on the horizon, not allowing himself to slow as the gloomy gray of early dawn gave way to red, orange, and finally gold. The sun was fully visible over the ocean when he spotted land in the distance.