He released air through his siphons and rose off the floor as she continued to hit him and struggle against his hold. “I did not save you just so you could give up and die afterward,” he grumbled.
When her nails bit into his flesh, he bared his teeth and growled. Despite her weakened state, she was making a surprising effort to fight him off. What would it take for her to turn that spirit toward living?
“Let me go!” she screeched.
He obeyed, dumping her onto the bed. She bounced once, grasped the rail, and moved to pull herself up again, but Kronus halted her with a firm hand on her shoulder. He pressed her back down. She shrieked and clawed at him, swung her fists and cursed in words he understood and words he did not.
Hers was a familiar anger; it reminded him of his own deep-seated rage after the battle in the Facility had ended. He’d hoped to die during that fight, had expected to die afterward, but the same kraken who’d banished him beforehand had chosen to be merciful. Part of him resented their mercy. How much easier would it have been to die?
“What is going on?” Aymee demanded, striding into the room.
“It’s his fault!” Eva yelled, thrashing atop the bed.
Kronus grunted as her assault on him intensified. He leaned over the bed and, with more difficulty than seemed possible, caught her wrists in his hands and pinned them to the bed at her sides. He coiled two of his front tentacles around her knees, locking them in place, and settled some of his weight over her middle to prevent her from bucking her hips.
She closed her eyes and screamed, the sound so loud and piercing that it was more painful than all her scratching and hitting.
“Shit! Hold her still!” Aymee rushed to the counter.
“I am,” Kronus growled through his teeth, turning his head as though it could provide him some relief from Eva’s noise.
Aymee hurried to his side, pressed a small injector gun against Eva’s neck, and pulled the trigger. Eva’s eyes flared open wide, and her scream faltered. For an instant, she pushed up against Kronus with renewed strength, and he feared she might slip free of his hold.
Then she sank onto the bed, her body giving up the fight as she closed her eyes again and cried. Her anger had vanished, leaving only raw grief and misery.
“He left me,” she said between sobs. “He…left me alone. Left me…on the beach…”
Her head lolled to the side, and the remaining tension in her body eased. Cautiously, Kronus eased off her, first releasing her wrists, then shifting his torso upright before withdrawing his tentacles. He hadn’t realized just how ragged his own breath had become, just how thunderously his hearts had been beating.
Had he done the right thing in saving her? The answer came without delay.
Yes.
“What happened?” Aymee asked. “We were in the middle of a procedure with another patient when she started screaming.”
Kronus frowned, staring down at Eva’s now relaxed features, which were framed by tousled hair. “I need to visit her male. Blake. Where does he dwell?”
“What? Why?”
“Her male,” he repeated, looking up to meet Aymee’s gaze. “Where can I locate him?”
“He was just…here.” Her eyes rounded, and she shook her head. “No, Kronus. No challenges, no fights, no violence.”
“He turned away from her when I pulled her out of the water,” he said, dropping a hand to the metal railing on the side of the bed and squeezing, “and you said he has only visited her here twice. The last time, he left her in tears, and this time was even worse. He needs to learn that his behavior is not acceptable.”
Aymee’s eyes dipped to Eva, and her brows fell.
“This was her breaking,” Kronus continued.
“You’re right, but hurting Blake isn’t going to help Eva get better.”
“It will be a start.”
Aymee raised her hands and waved her palms toward the floor in a placating manner. “No. You need to leave him alone. Trust me in that, okay? If you really want to help, if you really want to make a difference…she’s the one who needs attention.”
Kronus tightened his hold on the railing; the metal groaned within his grip. “I am ill-suited to mending broken humans. But I can break her male. That is what I know.”
“I can’t let you do that, Kronus. However much of a coward he might be, he’s not in his right mind at the moment, and you beating the tar out of him is only going to get people riled up. Especially the ones that don’t want your kind here. She just…needs time. And more than that, she needs someone. Everyone needs someone.”
A strange light entered Aymee’s eyes as she stared at him; it was deep with meaning, weighty and dire, and he felt her gaze upon him like it was a physical touch.
He shook his head. “I am not that someone, Aymee.”
But I want to be…
She tilted her head slightly. The tiny change of angle only made her stare heavier.
Kronus looked back to Eva and released a long, soft sigh. His forearm stung where her nails had raked his flesh, but he could not deny the wrongness of this. Her peace had come only as the result of a drug. She deserved better. Even if he didn’t know her, he understood that much.
As he turned away, his gaze met Aymee’s briefly. He didn’t respond to the disappointment creasing her brow, didn’t acknowledge the pleading frown into which her lips had fallen. He left the room without looking back.
What did it matter if Aymee wanted him to help? Eva clearly wanted nothing to do with Kronus, and the decision, as always, fell to the female.
Chapter 6
Aymee seemed surprised when Kronus approached her the morning after his visit to the clinic and inquired about Eva’s condition.
“She’s…not good,” Aymee said. “She’s despondent, barely eating, and isn’t talking much. I think she said all of four words after you left yesterday.”
He didn’t know what despondent meant, but Aymee’s tone would’ve been enough by itself to make her point clear.
They parted ways. For Aymee, it was one of the rare days during which she wasn’t working in the clinic, helping in the fields, or baking with her mother — she would be spending her time with her mate, Arkon, and their youngling, Jace. Kronus had volunteered to help keep watch on the bay while plans were made to organize hunting parties and clear razorbacks out of the coastal waters; it was not thrilling work, but it was important, and it would give him a task upon which to focus.
He gruffly asked Aymee about Eva again the following evening. The only thing to have changed was Aymee’s concern, which had clearly increased.
Kronus’s sleep was restless that night. He tried to explain it away by reminding himself that he’d suffered many nights of broken slumber over the last two years, especially since he’d come to The Watch, but he knew there was more to it this time. Eva lingered in his head, dominated his thoughts, and kept his mind racing. Any attempts to steer his thoughts away from her eventually circled back around to Eva.
By the time the first light of dawn touched the sky on the third day since his visit with Eva, Kronus was ready to get out of bed. Lack of sleep had only made him think of her more. He needed a distraction, needed a new focus.
He ate some smoked fish — one of the human cooking techniques he’d come to appreciate — and selected a fresh chunk of wood from the basket he kept in the corner. After opening the land-facing window to allow in both the gray dawn light and the relatively cool morning air, he positioned himself at the window sill and set to work with his knife. Wood shavings piled on the sill as the sun slowly rose over the jungle. Kronus’s hands scarcely slowed their movement, but it became increasingly clear that he had no direction. Wade often muttered about discovering the shape waiting in the wood; this piece refused to reveal its secrets.
No, that wasn’t right. The problem was Kronus’s own inability to see it.
The sun was a bright disk hanging just above the trees when Kronus gave up and set the wood down
amidst the shavings. He cleaned his knife, returned it to its sheath, and closed the window.
It was nearly time to meet the others, regardless. There was no sense in lingering in his den and falling victim to his own thoughts.
After strapping the sheathed knife to his wrist, he headed outside. The air was already warm, but the hint of ocean mist on the breeze granted a whisper of coolness. Kronus drew himself along the path that had been worn into the grass that grew all over the ridgeline. His den — house, to the humans — was the last in a line of dwellings constructed on the cliff, overlooking a stretch of beach below.
Younglings were playing outside — Sarina and Eros, the half-human, half-kraken offspring of Macy and Jax, giggled as Rhea’s daughter, Melaina, chased them through the taller grass. Jace, Aymee and Arkon’s son, stalked behind Melaina as though ready to pounce on her; that she was twice his size seemed to matter little to the youngling. He was a natural hunter despite his youth. Several human children had joined in the games, seeming to make no differentiation between themselves and the kraken.
The children laughed and darted around Kronus as he passed. He slowed his pace to avoid a collision and shook his head. Once, this situation would have annoyed him, and he’d have given their mothers a reproachful glare. But this was not the Facility, and many of the old ways were gone; this was where these younglings denned with their families, and — even if he wouldn’t admit it aloud — it lifted his hearts to see them happy at play.
They were the future of his people. They were the ones who would eventually inherit Halora. If they were safe and content, there was hope.
Macy was outside with Rhea; the females, one human and one kraken, greeted Kronus as he neared. Both their friendship with each other and their forgiveness of Kronus were unlikely, and yet here they all were.
He was surprised at his disappointment as he continued along the path into the jungle — Aymee hadn’t been outside. Was she already at the clinic?
I should stop there and check on Eva.
No. That wouldn’t accomplish anything. He was expected at the dock. There was work to be done; Kronus had given his word, had pledged his aid. He wouldn’t back out of that obligation.
Kronus remained on the path as it cut through the pastures where odd land animals fed on grass and weeds, and soon entered the town. The lighthouse stood vigil above everything, a silent guardian for a place that was anything but silent — The Watch was bustling, just as it was most mornings. Many humans woke with the dawn, though some — like the fishermen before the migration had changed their routines — rose even earlier.
He wound through the now-familiar streets, grateful that relatively few people bid him a good morning, and finally descended the ramp toward the dock. He stopped at the small storage room built into the cliffside at the base of the ramp and retrieved a harpoon gun and a few spare harpoons before continuing onto the dock. The whole structure swayed with the gentle motion of the seawater upon which it floated; it was built in segments that allowed it to rise and fall fluidly with the tide.
Kronus glanced to the side. Today, the water touched the cliffs on either side of the dock. The beach where he’d laid a bleeding, desperate Eva on the sand, where the bodies of her companions had lain motionless beneath a clear, sunny sky, was completely submerged by the high tide.
Vasil stood beside Breckett’s boat, coiling a length of rope around his elbow and palm while the grizzled human checked the boat’s rigging. When Kronus neared, Vasil offered a nod in greeting. Kronus returned it.
“Just in time!” Breckett boomed. “Well, a bit early, but we may as well get to it. Wade’s sailing with his boy, Camrin today, since Camrin’s lady, Jenny, has the day off to watch their little one, and—ah, you don’t need to know all that. We’ve got traps to check today. That’s what matters.”
“The other boats have escorts?” Kronus asked.
“Yes,” Vasil replied, passing the bundle of rope to Breckett. “Brexes, Charos, Jax, and Arkon. Dracchus has a small group patrolling the bay.”
“You two are welcome to ride with me, if you don’t want to swim all the way out to the first traps,” Breckett said.
Vasil lowered himself to gather his gun and harpoon off the dock before grasping the side of the boat and drawing himself into it. Once he’d set his equipment down, he swung his gaze to Kronus. The light gray kraken wore an expectant look on his face.
Kronus held his place, hesitant to join them. He was accustomed to swimming; under the surface, he could lose himself in monitoring his surroundings, and communication was limited to signs and flashes of color. But in a relatively small boat, surrounded only by the water’s surface and the open air — both of which seemed to stretch on endlessly — he’d have little to distract him from his thoughts apart from conversation. Would that be enough?
“Oh, come on,” Breckett urged gruffly. “We won’t bite.” His gaze fell to Vasil before returning to Kronus, and a hint of a grin became visible within his facial hair. “Well, I won’t. It’s you quiet ones we’ve got to worry about.”
Vasil arched a brow in question, and Breckett chuckled.
What harm could come of it? Perhaps companionship would prove to be what he needed to finally move his thoughts away from Eva. Nothing else had worked over the last few days. And if Kronus felt out of place amongst them — which he already did — that was just one more thing to keep his mind occupied, wasn’t it?
Kronus extended his front tentacles, grasped the boat railing, and pulled himself into the vessel. Once his rear tentacles had a hold, he placed his weaponry along the bottom and eased himself down nearby. The movements of the water felt more pronounced than they had on the dock. It was a small thing, but it was of comfort to him — a gentle reminder that the sea was within easy reach should he require it.
Breckett saw to the ropes securing the boat to the dock, put his boot against the edge of the platform, and shoved off. He turned toward the mast and manipulated the boom. Within a few moments, the sail caught the wind, and Breckett guided them smoothly out of the bay.
The air over the open water felt different — cooler, breezier, somehow purer. Kronus relished its feel against his skin; it could not compare to swimming, but it had its own charm, offered a unique sense of freedom.
Conversation was sparse; the three passengers seemed content to enjoy the morning. But the way the sun sparkled on the water reminded Kronus of another morning not long before — when he’d rescued Eva from the razorback.
How much bloodshed had he seen in his lifetime? How many creatures had he killed to provide food for his people, how many kraken had he killed to protect females and younglings when Neo led his group in an attack on the Facility? He shouldn’t have been affected by more blood, especially not human blood.
But the attack on Eva and her friends continued to haunt him.
Kronus released a relieved sigh when they reached the first of the bright yellow markers floating on the surface. He and Vasil gathered their harpoon guns as Breckett lowered the sail and slowed the boat, drawing alongside the marker. The human handed Vasil a small sack — its fishy smell suggested it was fresh bait — and the two kraken dove into the water, beginning their descent.
The sea life was sparse until they neared the bottom; the ocean currents guided the migrating schools of fish to other points along the coast, but the resulting relative lack of predators made this an ideal area for various bottom-feeding creatures to thrive — especially hardshells, which the fishermen called Halorian lobsters.
While Vasil sank to the bottom to inspect the first string of traps, Kronus scanned their surroundings. The water was perhaps six body-lengths deep — deep enough for prowling razorbacks, even under normal circumstances.
Would Kronus have noticed the razorbacks in the bay before the attack if he’d been in the water sooner? Could the kraken have saved four lives instead of one?
Kronus cast aside those questions. Regrets could not change what was already
done; he knew that better than most. But he also knew those same regrets could shape the future. They could be lessons, if he allowed them to be; lessons about what was right, what was just, what was honorable.
Vasil grasped the rope connecting the traps to the float overhead and tugged it down several times. A few moments later, the line went taut, and the traps rose off the sea floor. High above, the boat bobbed with Breckett’s efforts as he hauled the trap up. At least six hardshells were inside the wood-and-wire cages.
Kronus and Vasil moved to the next set of traps.
Small fish, seemingly unconcerned with the kraken’s presence, drifted lazily between dancing shafts of sunlight nearby.
What would Eva’s hair look like under the morning light? Human hair seemed to lose much of its shine when wet; would hers remain light brown or favor the glowing gold of sunrise when it was dry?
He snapped his head from side to side, hoping to shake away those thoughts. Despite his best efforts, his mind returned to her repeatedly. He should have gone to her again over the last few days, shouldn’t have allowed her outburst to drive him away. She was lost, but it was not too late for her. She could be found again. She could come back from the dark place into which she’d sunk.
After checking the second bundle of traps, Vasil flashed yellow, catching Kronus’s attention. He signed quickly.
You check the others. I will watch.
Vasil kept his coloring natural, his movements unhurried, but there was something in his eyes that unsettled Kronus despite its lack of malice — a knowing gleam.
Offering no argument, Kronus nodded and swam to the next set of traps. He went about his work absently; though he willed himself to focus, his mind refused to remain on task. Images of Eva’s blue eyes flitted through his memory; blue eyes filled with pain, sorrow, and despair, devoid of the joy and curiosity with which they’d shone when he first saw her.
When the traps had all been checked, Vasil and Kronus returned to the boat. Vasil and Breckett hauled up the final string of traps together, opened them, and dumped the hardshells they contained into a waiting basket that was already half-filled with the creatures. Kronus rebaited the empty traps, and Breckett lowered them into the water.
Rising from the Depths Page 5
