Tage nods. “Been wondering. What’d you do before this?” Jerks his chin at the cabin, means the submersible.
Marcus pulls off his shirt. Lean, muscular, he sports more tattoos than scars. Great black and blue whorls in intricate patterns cover his back and slip ’round his waist and dip lower. Faint scar-ridges show under the ink. A whale skeleton sinks towards a sandy seabed on one arm; the other’s covered with words Tage can’t read.
“I’ve been many things, for a lot of people. I’ve traveled the world and seen …” He clears his throat. “Wonders and horrors is close enough to describe it. Bet you’ve known the same, huh?”
Tage shrugs. He’s seen horrors, yeah. Maybe some wonders, too.
Marcus smiles. “Being aboard the Whale Fall is the most rewarding job I’ve had. Besides, I meet such intriguing people.” He winks.
Tage hides surprise, but it’s secondary to building arousal as he looks at Marcus. It feels like forever since he’s been with anyone. He swallows. The loneliness is as bad as the ache, the need to be touched. Tage has always—only—wanted partners older than him. Can’t stand the idea of younger lovers. It’s too easy to hurt the ones who can’t fight back.
And with Marcus, he don’t got to worry about hurting no one.
“What are you going to do with your life now?” Marcus takes a step closer. In the cabin, he only needs one step to be nearly touching Tage.
Tage can see the other wizard’s as hard as he is. “What do you mean?”
Marcus shrugs, runs a hand through his hair. Tiny barbed tattoos trace the sides of his neck and link across his spine. “You’re not going back to your Clan, are you?”
Tage tenses. “You’re one to talk.”
“I know the look … they hurt you, and they’ll do worse again if they get you back.” He grabs Tage by the shoulders, brings his face close. “You could stay on, you know.” His voice turns husky. “No one can find us under the sea. On this ship, you’d never be alone again.”
Tage don’t want to know how Marcus can read him so well. Don’t want to think about that offer, or how tempted he is.
Marcus says, “Ponder it,” and kisses Tage hard on the mouth.
Tage’s heartbeat pounds his ears. He snags Marcus’ shaggy hair and pulls him closer. Marcus’ tongue against his teeth makes his whole body tingle. Skin is hot against his.
“You consent?” Marcus asks, his hands against Tage’s chest.
Tage is almost caught off guard, being asked. But it snuffs out the lingering doubt. “Fuck yes.”
Marcus chuckles, knees apart Tage’s legs, unbuckles his belt. Tage sucks his breath in. Marcus kisses him again. Heat, pleasure, curls up Tage’s belly. He wants more. He drags Marcus closer, desperate. He shifts his weight back, lets Marcus pull his jeans down, out of the way. Marcus pauses long enough to shuck free of remaining clothes. Tage appreciates the view, leans forward, cups his hands ’round Marcus’ hips and pulls him close.
The cabin lurches, throws them both against the side wall. Tage flails, catches himself before he falls. “What the hell—?”
Marcus staggers back, cursing. The Whale Fall keels again. He scrambles for his trousers, pulls them on, bolts for the door. “Something just slammed us starboard.”
Tage fumbles for his jeans. The strain in Marcus’ voice has his nerves edged. Goddamn it.
Sailors brush past him, scrambling for stations. Swearing echoes. The floor tilts again. Tage grabs at the wall, his stomach lurching opposite the ship. He pushes his way into the bridge, stops cold. Can’t speak, can’t even breathe.
Outside the domed glass and steel mantle, all he sees are monsters.
They float, glowing in the dark. Spiraled shells rimmed in blue-green luminescence. Big, shallow eyes rest on either side of a swarm of tentacles that curl out from the shell. The tip of each tentacle has a pinkish-white glow. There’s a dozen creatures, maybe, big as draft horses.
One nudges into the Whale Fall’s nose, tentacles sliding across the glass. Wards flare bright. The creature pokes the ship again and wiggles more appendages free of its shell. The others crowd nearer, tentacles still bunched inside.
“Nautiluses,” Captain Norris says. “I was not aware they migrated this high so early in the year.”
Tage wants them away from the glass. He keeps picturing those tentacles ramming through the window, letting in the sea.
Marcus laughs, leaning on the captain’s chair in relief. “They’re just spawn.”
Norris’s scarred jaw tightens. “They are big enough to damage my ship, Mr. Grey.”
“But not a threat,” Marcus says. A swirl of tattoos, thin teal lines, shine iridescent on his skin. “We just intersected with a passing stream. Dim the forelights and they’ll lose interest. They must think we’re one of them.”
The headlamps on Whale Fall fade. The great beasts still dart and twirl around the ship, bumping into it with glowing shells and tentacles. The ship rocks, holds.
Marcus laughs again. “They’re just curious children, Captain. They aren’t trying to hurt us.”
“Their intent matters little,” Norris says. “Madam d’Flay, ready the harpoons.”
The gunnery officer, a swarthy woman with thick braids hanging down her back, cranks a series of wheels. Slides her hands to a bronze lever. Outside, Tage catches sight of the edge of huge bladed harpoons swiveling towards the monsters.
“No, wait.” Marcus’s voice has steel in it now. “Whale Fall will hold. Let them be.”
The captain and wizard stare at each other.
“We’ll be fine, Captain,” Marcus says, near a whisper.
Norris looks back at the nautiluses flitting about in the deeps. “Stand ready, d’Flay, but hold.”
Marcus dips his chin, turns aside.
Soon the monsters drift farther away.
Norris stands, glances between Tage and Marcus. “Is all well, Mr. Grey?”
Marcus nods, tendons taut in his neck. The tattoos almost burn against his skin now, darker, duller. “Unexpected, that’s all.”
“Dismissed from the bridge, Mr. VanDrake,” Norris says.
Marcus flicks a hand at him, arm trembling. “I’ll meet you back in your cabin?”
Tage hesitates. He don’t need light to see something’s badly wrong. Both the captain and the wizard are too tense, trying not to show worry. Or pain, in Marcus’ case.
Tage backs out. The bridge door snicks shut—it’s a thick grille. None of the inside walls block sound too well. He leans a shoulder against the metal. Hall’s empty. It digs under Tage’s thoughts, the slow realization that rarely are any of the crew near Norris or Marcus. Or him.
“Assessment?” the captain asks, deceptively even-toned.
“They didn’t rupture any skin. No engine damage. It’s the shields that took the brunt of it.” Marcus sounds out of breath. “As I said, I reckon they were just curious as to what we are.”
“You’re shaking.” Sharp accusation. “I want a full report, Mr. Grey, and I want it now.”
A pause. Tage leans closer, breathes shallow so he won’t be heard.
“The wards are strained,” Marcus says at last. “Well below half capacity.”
“Is our hull pressure compromised?”
“Not yet, ma’am.”
“Not yet?”
A scuff of boots on the floor. “I haven’t yet re-bolstered the spells. They’ll hold fast to our destination if we remain steady and don’t run into any more nautiluses.”
“I’m not an optimist, Mr. Grey.”
“Neither am I.”
“So we’re at minimized defenses, and we have over fifty leagues to landfall.” Norris sighs. “How soon will you be able to reinforce and repair your wards?”
“We were interrupted,” Marcus says slowly. “Sea monsters kill a mood right fast.”
“Then you’d best be back to your acquisition before we encounter any other unexpected elements.”
Tage grits his teeth, his s
pine chilled.
“Begging your pardon,” Marcus drawls, more bitterness than sarcasm. “It’s not as if I can pin him against the bunk and fuck him.”
“Make it that simple.”
The captain’s lucky there’s a metal wall between ’em. Tage swallows a curse, shaking.
“I don’t coerce my lovers,” Marcus says, angry. “Don’t spit on my honor, Captain.”
Norris’s tone don’t change. “We’re over twenty fathoms deep, Mr. Grey.” There’s finality in those words. “We have ten leagues before we’re clear of the trench and there’s no room for us to surface until we’re clear. I won’t risk the lives of my crew on your sense of honor.”
“I reckon you should remember it’s my honor that keeps this ship intact, Captain.”
Tage holds his breath, so tense his muscles hurt.
“There’s Alton,” Norris says. “Or the VanDrake. Those wards will be repaired within the hour.”
Silence leeches out, heavy in the narrow hallway. Tage’s heartbeat bruises his ribs.
“We have an understanding, Mr. Grey?”
Marcus don’t answer right away. Then, “Yes, Captain.”
The door latch grinds. Tage lurches backwards, wedges himself into the ladder well. Slides a knife from inside his boot into his palm. Anger chokes tight. He ain’t being used by anyone, not again. Goddamn it. He don’t know if he’s more mad or hurt. Worst of it is, he still wants the other wizard. It’s fucked up, he knows that. Wishes he didn’t care.
Marcus steps from the bridge. Tage bulls from the ladder well just as Marcus passes, slams the other man into the wall. Marcus grunts. Tage has the knife under his chin too fast for the other wizard to react.
“Ain’t happening,” Tage snarls.
Marcus scowls, don’t look surprised. “Put that away. My wards are life-linked. You kill me, the pressure will crush Whale Fall like a tin can.” He nudges Tage hard in the belly with a knife of his own. “Put it down, VanDrake.”
Tage is tempted to ignore the threat. But he ain’t gonna sentence the whole crew to death; he’s got enough blood etched in his hands. Slowly, he lowers his arm. Marcus removes the knife.
“You want a proper explanation?” Marcus’ worn eyes look old. Tired and hurt, for all his expression is steel. “Eavesdropping leaves out salient details.”
Tage’s jaw aches, teeth clenched. “Talk fast.”
Marcus scoffs, shoulders past him. “My cabin’s soundproof.”
Tage is torn. He don’t fear a fight. He’s got weight and muscle on the other man. He’s been well-trained how to use it. And if Marcus’ words ring true, his magic’s tied into wards and spells lining the submersible. Gives Tage more of an advantage. No, he ain’t afraid. He wants to hear the clanless wizard’s explanation, even if it makes things worse.
Stiff-backed, he follows. Marcus’ cabin is in the submersible’s aft. Not much bigger than Tage’s bunk, but there’s ink drawings on the walls—crinkled and faded, near unrecognizable with water stains—and sea charts, maps, sketches of marine life.
There’s room for one chair nudged tight against the bunk, draped with Marcus’ duster and red fedora. Tage ducks through the door, stops on the threshold. Blocks the way out.
Marcus slumps on the bed. “I’m hardly in a seductive mood. Relax.”
“This why you brought me aboard?” Better rage than pain. “A goddamned tool to run your fucking ship?”
“Not entirely.”
Tage could beat the hell out of the other man, easy. He’s done it often enough. It never fixes the dull guilt or hurt when he’s done, but that don’t stop him, either.
Marcus glances up, don’t raise his guard. Like he wants to get hit. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out who you were when you left your card at Anna’s. One of Madam Frost’s enforcers: her prized Tage Ranheim.”
Tage freezes at that. How much else does Marcus know?
Marcus rests his elbows on his knees. “The only scuttlebutt I could find was that you’d gone missing, suspected for dead. It wasn’t that hard to figure out what happened after that. You wanted to get away, and I could help. I didn’t hire you to warm my goddamn bed, VanDrake.”
“You did it just to help?”
“Oh, I had hopes for more, true. Do you blame me? Madam Frost isn’t exactly shy in choosing her entourage for their looks as much as skill and size, now is she?” The corner of Marcus’ mouth quirks. “I made mistakes, long ago. I’ve tried to make them up ever since. So yes, my friend—”
Tage punches Marcus in the jaw. The other man’s head snaps back. He kicks out, catches Tage in the hip, rolls off the bunk and lands crouched, his eyes suddenly flat. Tage staggers back, widens his stance, readies himself for a brawl.
“Don’t call me that,” Tage snaps.
Marcus stands, licks blood from a split lip. “Don’t lay hands on me like that again, unless you mean to carry through.”
Tage glares, wills Marcus to attack him.
As sharp as bone snapping, Marcus’ mood shifts again and the threat fades. “The wards didn’t need bolstering yet, for Hell’s sake. We shouldn’t have dove this far. Norris is impatient. We have sensitive courier messages and some, ah, goods that port masters aren’t keen to allow. Expensive spices, items for spellwork. She’s pushing too fast.” He twists his wrist, sleight of hand, and in his palm he holds the paper scrap Tage left for contact with Anna. “You asked for help. I reckoned I could offer that.” He snaps his fingers and the paper turns to ash. “Earlier? I wanted you in bed because I like you, Tage, there’s no other reason.”
“Your captain seemed pretty fucking clear what she wanted.”
“Norris is my captain, not my owner. We’ll make this simple. Will you help me?”
“Fuck no.”
“Then I won’t touch you. You can finish your stint as a hired hand and put off at Aldare.”
It ain’t that easy. Never is. “What’re you gonna do?”
“Find a way to channel energy reserves to fix the godforsaken wards so we aren’t pulled into the lockers.” He yanks his fingers through his hair, tilts his head up. “I told Alton no. I’m not using him any more than I’m using you, and I’m not taking an apprentice.”
“And if you got no choice?” Tage’s voice is a rasp.
Marcus stares at him flatly. “Then Whale Fall will be lost with all hands.” There’s no conviction behind the words.
Tage swallows. He ain’t responsible for this crew. It ain’t his old gang, or his family.
He tries not to wish they hadn’t been interrupted, earlier. Tries not to wish he’d never listened in on Marcus Grey and Captain Norris. He thought, in his bunk, maybe he could have something good again.
“Go back to your cabin,” Marcus says, boot toes against Tage’s. “I’ll tell you when your muscle’s needed. We pump the ballast tanks—”
A shudder slams the length of Whale Fall. Marcus staggers, flinches as if kicked in the ribs. “Hell’s whisky.”
Tage backs out. “What’s wrong?”
Sweat beads across Marcus’ forehead. “We’ve been spotted.”
“By what?”
“Only thing in this trench that’s bigger than us. The nautiluses—the adults.”
Tage’s stomach lurches as the submersible lists again. “How do you kill ’em?”
“You don’t kill the gods of the sea, partner. You pray to your own. If we can’t outrun them, we’re dead men.” He sprints for the bridge.
Tage curses and follows.
More of the crew has gathered. Savatori. D’Flay. Alton. This time, Alton’s expression is glazed, content, drugged. He leans on Savatori’s arm.
Tage don’t get a chance to protest. Outside, lit by the ship’s lamps and its own lum-inescence, a giant nautilus hovers in the water. Massive tentacles half the Whale Fall’s girth slowly extend from a blue-grey shell. Tage can’t even see its full bulk, just one huge pearlescent eye.
“Mr. Grey,” Norris says.
“Clearly.”
Tage feels the tension, so thick it chokes out any panic. No one moves.
“Stations, men. Prepare to fire harpoons, Madam d’Flay.” Norris’s commands are obeyed in silence. They’re all dead men walking, and they know it.
Savatori shoves Alton at Marcus, who catches the boy, supports him.
Tage reaches for a pistol he don’t have. “Don’t,” he whispers.
He ain’t gonna stand idle while anyone—wizard or not—rapes a kid for magic-fuel. It won’t work fast enough, anyhow. Those tentacles will crush Whale Fall long before Marcus has the strength to boost shields.
“I need your help,” Marcus says, between threat and begging. He shoves Alton to the floor.
The nautilus glows whitish-green, a hypnotizing series of lights that etch the shell and tentacles.
“Harpoons ready, Captain,” d’Flay says.
Norris lifts a hand. Marcus shakes his head. Despair masks even fear. Harpoons’ll do no good, and they only got two shots with the forward guns.
Tage keeps telling himself if he wanted to die, he’d have shot himself when Kane was killed. He won’t be used. Even if he gave in, there’s no time.
Tage can’t set the nautilus on fire, can’t shoot it or knife it. Frustration at his lack of options bubbles under dull terror. He don’t want to drown, crushed in metal and glass as the ocean pours in.
But there’s more than one way to use magic.
“Make us look like it,” Tage says. “Illusion the ship.”
The captain says, “Fire” just as Marcus cries, “No, wait—” and d’Flay releases the harpoons. They bounce off the nautilus’s shell and it rumbles.
Tage hasn’t got time. He shoves the raw, unchecked magic at Marcus. It’ll either work, or it’ll kill them both. Marcus said his magic is different. Adapted. Changed and strengthened and malleable. He’s had VanDrake lovers before. Tage won’t be used, but he can give Marcus some of the energy he needs. Power shared.
Submerged Page 24
