The Devil Walks In Blood: Nick Holleran Private Investigator Book Two (Nick Holleran Series 2)
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All of you who read the original Dead Man Walking; your excitement and enthusiasm made writing this one easier.
And to my son, Ollie, the reason I do all of this. There’s a scene just for you in book three. I promise!
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Sample: It Calls From the Sea
Anthology of horror
Into the Depths
David Green
“If you tell me we’re lost,” Danene growled, “I’m throwing you off this fucking sub, and I couldn’t give a shit if your sorry arse drowns.”
She ground her teeth as Jacob, head of navigation on the Sabre, shrank into his seat. Spineless bastard, Danene thought, staring instead at the submarine’s radar, its beep echoing around the command room. Fucking Hell, relax. He’s doing his best, like everyone. It’s not your fault, or theirs.
A scientific expedition into the Mariana Trench, funded by an eccentric Singaporean billionaire, Danene’s team aimed to explore the ocean’s deepest point further than anyone before. Time dictated their need and haste; scientists had discovered mining potential in the Trench, and the world’s wealthiest entrepreneurs and corporations scrambled to map the Mariana first.
Their benefactor spared no expense, providing innovative equipment and a bespoke submarine for the task—a sleek vessel built for a small scientific research team and able to withstand the crippling pressures of the Trench. He even let Danene, Britain’s foremost Oceanographer, handpick her crew from around the world. They’d cut corners on the testing periods, their claim at being pioneers overriding common sense. Anytime an issue cropped up she pictured the money sunk into this project, and the trust placed in her.
They’d passed the previous marked depths of the Mariana Trench three days ago. Their charts, data and systems disagreed on their position, and even on what direction their nose pointed in.
“Danene,” Jacob stammered, tracing the radar screen with his index finger, “the telemetry makes no sense. The readouts are bogus. The more I look at it, the less I understand. I need a break, please.”
“Malfunction? All the systems wouldn’t fry. Too much of a coincidence. What about the backups?” Danene grated.
“Sabotaged,” Jacob whispered.
Danene bit her lip as her fists curled into balls. Jacob kept his eyes averted as he hunched over the radar, his hair slick with sweat. She felt a hand squeeze on her shoulder. Turning, she discovered Mateo, a marine biologist, and someone she’d grown a little too close with during their training. The rest of the team knew and accepted it. Not that she cared; they were single, and there weren’t rules against crew relationships, this being a civilian mission. Plus Chen and Zoey had hit it off too; living in close quarters did that. Mateo’s amiable nature calmed her, and with tensions running high since they entered the Trench she appreciated him, though the man appeared tense himself.
“He’s on the verge of bugging out,” Mateo whispered. “Some R&R wouldn’t go amiss. Shit, we could all do with it. I’ll look at the data, see if he’s missed something. Maybe the water pressure is messing with the sub’s systems and we can fix them.”
Danene sighed. “Alright. Get to your bunk, Jacob. Rest up, and we’ll figure this out.” The navigator stayed in his seat, rocking back and forth. “Jacob? You hear me?”
“French!” Mateo barked, kicking his chair. Jacob spun, a frenzied look in his eye. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah,” Jacob muttered, glancing around him like he’d forgotten his location. “Yeah, just tired.”
He got to his feet and shuffled away, hunched over himself.
“No way is it sabotage. Who’d do that?” Mateo said, shaking his head as he watched Jacob disappear into the bowels of the sub. “Cabin fever, I’d guess.”
“Tell me about it,” Danene replied, leaning her forehead on Mateo’s shoulder. “All I can think about since we entered the Trench is escaping. I walked by the airlock today, and part of me wanted to tear it open.”
Mateo narrowed his eyes. Danene felt her cheeks burn as he studied her face. Sometimes the intensity in his stare made her self-conscious. “Reckon you need some downtime, too. I’ll call if I make any sense of the readouts.”
“Wanna take charge, huh?” She said with a smirk.
“Maybe later,” Mateo replied, subdued.
Danene couldn’t argue, she needed the rest. She’d lost track of time as they plunged deeper. Feels like I’m drifting through a dream, she thought.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Mateo said. She blinked, not realizing she’d spoken aloud. He stared into the middle-distance.
“See you later, big guy,” she whispered, slapping him on the backside, a normal act meant to put herself at ease. It didn’t work, and Mateo didn’t react. Turning to the comms station she forced the dread welling in her chest back down to the pit of her stomach. “All crew, listen up, this is Danene. Sub’s coming to a halt till we figure out this radar malfunction. Hang tight.”
…
Danene’s footsteps echoed down the corridor as she walked to her cabin. The sub had come to a full stop, and her head spun. They’d spent the last four weeks at sea, and her senses had gotten used to the constant motion. The lack of it seemed alien to her. Danene hugged herself tight as she hurried to her destination. She’d spent her entire life dreaming about the oceans, even dedicating her studies since childhood for the chance to chart them.
The opportunity to explore the Mariana sent tingles of excitement through her body, the expedition being what she’d worked toward all her life. The Trench fascinated her even as a child, and she’d lay awake at night imagining the awesome scale of it. Seven miles deep, she thought, glancing around the grey, soulless corridors of the Sabre, and forty-four miles wide. One-thousand-five-hundred-and-fifty-four miles long.
Danene often gave her imagination free rein when she thought of the secrets the Mariana Trench might hold, but now, as a tiny speck in the abyss’ maw, she could only think of the cold, dark, crushing water surrounding her in that vast well of emptiness.
Her heart thudded in her chest, and Danene’s breath pumped in a short, fast, uneven rhythm. Her neck muscles tightened as she imagined all the weight outside the sub’s hull squeezing her.
“A fucking panic attack?” She breathed, leaning her forehead against the metallic wall. She closed her eyes and racked her brain for anything safe, but visions of black water crashed into her mind. Danene beat her fist against the smooth surface, its clang giving her something to latch on to. “No,” she growled, “I’m not afraid.”
“You and I are the only people in this tub that ain’t, Cap,” a voice drawled to her right.
Danene half-jumped as she spun to face Brett, the ship’s medical officer, and a man she regretted bringing onboard. He’d charmed her when she’d interviewed him, and his knowledge of medicine and experience in the US Navy impressed her, but his abrasive, arrogant nature soon revealed itself as they disembarked for the Trench. A loner, the rest of the crew gave him a wide-berth unless they required his help. He appeared to like that just fine.
She punched him hard on the shoulder. Brett rolled with it and threw her a lopsided grin as he leaned against the wall.
“Fuck, Anderson,” Danene snapped, using his surname, “almost gave me a goddamn heart-attack. Sneaking up on people? For fuck sake.”
Brett raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Well, I passed Jacob shambling towards his cabin, muttering about sabotage. Thought I’d come find you, to say that, in medical terms, your boy’s in danger of going full-on wacko.” He smiled again. “You ain’t looking much better.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Danene growled. She had to thank the doctor for the seething anger now obliterating the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “If he needs meds, or an evaluation, go do it. You don’t need my permission.”
“Too right,” Brett replied, peering at his fingernails as if he tried to decide which one he liked best. “Can do the same for you. There’s eight crew onboard. I’m the one who can relieve you, on medical grounds, if I feel necessary. Don’t forget it.”
“That a threat?”
Brett shrugged, then met her brown eyes with his piercing blue ones. “What did Jacob mean by ‘sabotage’?”
Danene pulled breath into her lungs and counted to five; better that than unleashing her anger on the sub’s only medic.
“Nav’s having trouble telling us where we are,” she replied, smoothing her voice as best she could. “Mateo reckons the water pressure has messed with the systems. Jacob’s spooked.”
“Oh? Your boyfriend would know better than a navigator, I suppose,” Brett smiled with a wink.
“He’s not—”
“I don’t care, we’re all adults here.” Brett replied. He lifted an index finger and pointed it towards the ceiling. “Go up. Break water. Get a readout. Send an SOS. Problem solved, then the crew can stop their descent into fucking madness. It ain’t just Jacob.”
“Thanks, Brains,” Danene laughed. “Dilemma’s this: without the nav, we don’t know where that is. We’re swimming blind; we could surface, but our position might have us too close to the Mariana’s sides, or something might lie above us. If we’re floating the correct direction, that is. If you don’t mind, I’ve got some downtime.”
She pushed past him and tried to ignore his eyes burning holes into the back of her head as she descended deeper into the sub’s belly.
Grab your copy of It Calls From the Sea here and continue this dark aquatic story, along with twenty other terrifying tales from the sea. The perfect beach book.