by Cathryn Cade
Ignoring the icy agony spreading in his chest, Daniel turned on the diver barreling toward him. The nai’a darted forward, and Red Stripes cried out, unable to contain his forward momentum. The nai’a hit him, jolting him back. She rolled, sending him tumbling over her back toward Daniel.
“I am harder to kill than you think.” Daniel grabbed the disoriented diver by the throat and squeezed. Tissue and cartilage gave beneath his powerful grip, and the other man’s eyes bulged as he scrabbled desperately to break Daniel’s grasp, jaunty red stripes flashing as he kicked. His motion slowed, and he went limp. Daniel cast him away, straight into the path of the second diver, and turned on Helman, who regarded him with fascinated horror.
“You should be drowning—dying.” Helman gasped, his body rigid as he kicked backward. “Why aren’t you drowning? What are you?”
“Daniel!” Claire cried again. She hit him from behind, reaching past him with her slender arm as Yellow Stripes aimed his reloaded speargun at him. The man pulled the trigger, and Daniel felt his wahine jerk against him as the spear hit home.
He surged around in the water, expecting the worst. But though her eyes were wide with shock, no spear protruded from her wet suit. Only a thin ribbon of blood spiraled from a tear in the shoulder of her wet suit. He grabbed her and pulled her other hand up over the wound. “Stay here.”
“Daniel,” she mumbled, her mouth trembling around her air hose.
He touched her cheek under the edge of her mask. “I won’t let you die, tita.”
Daniel, this new, frightening Daniel, who must be a figment of her crazed imagination, or another one of her vivid dreams, turned away. The two dolphins swam back to join him. One of them moved slowly, one flipper at an awkward angle.
Claire ignored the pain in her shoulder. Daniel was out of his head—irrational. Otherwise, how could he possibly ignore the blood spiraling around him in the water? He had to be in agony.
“No, it’s you who are hurt the worst,” she choked out. “Daniel, you’ll drown soon. Here, you need air. Take mine—we’ll head up to the surface—I’ll help you. We’ll take turns breathing. You’ll be okay. We’ve just got to get out of here. And Zane—we have to get Zane.”
Daniel ignored her.
“E ho’i mai, kaikaina manō,” he called, his voice vibrating through her mind. “Helman, say good-bye to your kula—your drugs.”
And behind them, a muffled boom rumbled through the very foundation of the island, vibrating through the water around them. Rock rattled and grated, a low vibration that continued on and on.
Daniel gestured at the cave behind them. “Pele comes. She will burn your kula in her flames.”
Claire sobbed with frustration, trying to tug him upward, away. He was over the edge, beyond reason.
The man who seemed to be the boss of the drug runners, Helman, pointed at Daniel, screaming something at his remaining diver. She couldn’t hear him as Daniel seemed to be able to, but she could clearly see he was ordering the man to do something. Red Stripes had slumped to the sea floor, unconscious. Claire hoped he was dead.
Then Yellow Stripes aimed his speargun again—at Daniel. No, he couldn’t possibly survive a second shot. She looked around for something to hold up before them and saw the discarded speargun at her feet, the spear lying half out of the barrel.
Letting go of Daniel, she reached for it. She’d never shot or even held a speargun, but she’d do it, if those damn dolphins would just get out of the way. They swam back and forth before Daniel, their urgent clicking and whistling echoing through the water.
She soon realized the reason for the dolphins’ pushy behavior. They were not only trying to protect her and Daniel, they were trying to herd them. The water was growing uncomfortably hot. Claire winced as a burst of heat seared her lower leg. She let the dolphins nudge her farther away from the cave, urging Daniel along with her.
They moved a few feet, and she turned to see where the heat had come from. What she saw made her gasp with renewed fear.
Fire flickered within the inky recesses of the big cave. As she watched, more hot water billowed forth in a bubbling stream.
“Daniel,” she cried. “Come on, we have to move. The volcano is erupting. Lava!” She turned to lift him in her arms and pull him away.
But a rough hand shoved her aside, jolting her against Daniel. As she landed awkwardly against him, her air tank struck his back, and she felt rather than heard his grunt of pain.
She looked up to find another diver holding the speargun on her and Daniel. A wild-eyed Hawaiian, his dive suit battered and torn, his mask hanging askew on his face.
The man mumbled something and lifted the speargun, aiming it at Daniel at point-blank range. Behind him, the fire grew brighter, the back of the cave seething in a glowing mass.
“No,” Claire cried, holding out her hands, moving to shield Daniel with her own body. “No!”
Then she cried out in wordless horror as the man fired. The weapon bucked in his hands, the spear flashing forth. She turned, expecting to see another spear protruding from Daniel’s body.
Daniel, his face contorted, had already yanked the spear loose, but a second plume of blood joined the first, this one from his ridged abdomen.
“Daniel,” she moaned. Would this nightmare never end?
Daniel spoke again, his deep voice rumbling under the dolphins’ cries, over the hissing of hot water.
“Too late,” he warned the Hawaiian. “See…who comes…for you.”
The man looked past Claire, and his eyes widened in horror. Claire turned, holding on to Daniel. Oh God, what could possibly be worse? She wanted to wake up now.
Out of the blue depths of the sea, a shape had coalesced, growing larger as it swam lazily toward the humans gathered on the sea floor.
A shark. A huge shark, undulating through the water with lazy swirls of its long, torpedo-shaped body.
Yellow Stripes, the farthest out, backed away from it, kicking toward his boss, and grabbed his arm as if urging him to flee. He pointed the speargun at the shark. The leader shook his head and pointed at Daniel.
Claire shook with a sudden chill as she realized what he was saying—the shark would first attack Daniel or her or Zane, who was crabbing slowly toward her and Daniel, hunched over with pain. The three of them were wounded and bleeding. Especially Daniel. Blood poured from his wounds.
A fin struck her leg. The Hawaiian kicked sharply, fighting his way up from her and Daniel, his eyes wide, shaking his head as if in denial. The speargun drifted down through the water toward her. Reflexively, she caught it. The man turned and swam away, toward the shoreline, his motions frantic.
Claire didn’t know why he had panicked badly enough to drop the speargun, and she didn’t care. She grasped Daniel as firmly as she could around his middle and kicked with all her might, towing him away from the cave, now billowing an ever-intensifying stream of hot water. She raised the gun and pointed it at the shark, over Daniel’s shoulder, the barrel wobbling with every kick. “Keep away,” she muttered. “You’re not getting him.”
“Tita, no.” Daniel shocked her by lifting his hand, albeit with difficulty, and pushing the speargun aside, causing the blood spiraling from him to thicken, the coils rising like sooty smoke. “Ukanipo is not coming…for me.”
The drug boss shook his head as if in disgust. Claire blinked. Was he actually laughing behind his mask?
Then Daniel spoke again. “Look again, Helman.”
Claire gasped, this time in sheer terror. The giant shark was not alone. A phalanx of other sharks materialized from the blue. They swam toward the divers, their flat eyes fastened on their prey, mouths open slightly to reveal razor-sharp teeth. The dolphins were nowhere to be seen.
“Zane,” she called. “Get over here—get behind me. We have to stay together.”
“I’m coming. Listen to Daniel.” Zane’s voice was weak, but he swam awkwardly on toward them, his breaths ragged through the walkie-talkie. He a
rrived just as the sharks did.
“It’s all right, tita. Sorry—I got you into this.” Daniel’s voice faded, his body leaning more heavily against her.
Claire hung on to him, clutching the speargun in her free hand even as she fought the shivers racking her body and the black shadows that danced at the edge of her consciousness.
She had never experienced true terror, but she did now. All around her, huge, deadly shapes twisted and lunged, brushing past her as the water turned murky with blood. And there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Their only refuge was full of flame and steam, and the shore was as distant as the moon with two wounded men on her hands.
“Helman—your brother died by lava,” Daniel said. “You—you will die by shark.”
The biggest shark took Helman, lunging forward to grab him in its huge mouth, serrated teeth closing on his head and shoulders. Helman died with a sound Claire knew she would never forget, a horrible gurgle, cut off sharply, with the sound of air hissing from his tank. A stream of bubbles rose around him, tinged bright red.
Yellow and Red Stripes were taken too, but after the first attack, she didn’t look and couldn’t see through the murky water, anyway.
She could hear herself whimpering, but she couldn’t stop. She flinched each time a big body brushed against her in the water, scraping against her wet suit like sandpaper, expecting that this time it would be her they took or Daniel or Zane, hunched close beside them. But they wouldn’t get either of the men as long as she could hold on to the speargun.
She jerked around as a huge bullet-shaped body cruised by, mouth slightly open, eyes fixed on Daniel, who lay in her arms, his head nodding forward onto his chest, while blood continued to pulse from his wounds. She lifted the speargun in her shaky grip, aiming through the clouds of blood.
“Come on, you bastard,” she mumbled. “Just try it. I’ll get you first.”
The shark smiled at her, traces of blood on his sharp, white teeth. She blinked, shaking her head. She couldn’t quite catch her breath. A strange calm descended on her. This was it, then—her tank was almost empty. She was either going to suffocate or be eaten by a shark. Didn’t matter…either way, she wasn’t letting go of Daniel. And Zane, poor Zane was going to die with them.
Then the shark before her began to shift, outline blurring in the water. Oh God, this was another island dream—a nightmare. Or she was hallucinating. Maybe some of those drugs were in the water.
Or maybe, and this last bothered her strangely little, she and Daniel were already dead, and this was some dream of passage. That was it—the shark-man must be a Hawaiian angel.
The man smiling at her was certainly beautiful enough to be an angel. He had soft, full lips; large, ebony eyes; black curls that danced in the water around him; and smooth, golden skin, given a greenish tinge by the water. He wore a crown, necklace and bracelets of tiny shells and pearls. A small, graceful loincloth of seaweed swirled about his narrow hips.
“You may put the speargun down, wahine,” he said, his voice as soft and musical in her mind as waves rushing onto the shore. She knew he was speaking Hawaiian, but she could understand him. “I will not eat you.”
“I get that—you’re an angel,” she managed, trying to catch her breath. “Him…you have to save him. And Zane. He’s…a hero too. Or at least…he will be.”
She looked down at Daniel, his big head lolling against her shoulder, thick lashes black against his pale cheeks. So much blood; he’d lost so much blood. She cocked her head awkwardly, trying to lay her cheek on his head, but the air hose blocked her. “He can’t die,” she repeated through the tears in her throat. “He’s a hero. You can take me, but not him.”
The beautiful man swam closer, holding out his arms. “Ah, you wish to save these men. And what will you give me if I do this?”
She felt his hands, surprisingly powerful for such a slender, lithe man, pull Daniel away from her. She let him go, slack with surprise as she looked into the angel’s beautiful gaze. Was the gleam there crafty or beneficent?
“Anything.” She was surprised he had to ask. Weren’t angels supposed to know love when they saw it? Because it was love; she saw that now, with the utter calm of having been through the worst and lost it all. Of course she loved Daniel Ho’omalu. Why else would she have kept coming back for more, trying to batter through the thick reef he’d constructed around his heart? Why else did she feel as if she were the one whose life was bleeding away into the sea? “Anything.”
“Very well. It shall be as you wish.” He waved his free hand, and Claire looked around her with hazy astonishment—the water was clearing, once again blue, the clouds of blood and lava debris gone, swirling away on invisible currents. The last of the sharks disappeared in the blue depths.
In their place, a phalanx of silver-and-white forms streamed gracefully around her, their bright gazes on the angel and Daniel. The nai’a chirred and clicked, chattering amongst themselves or to the angel.
Through their voices, she heard a low, distant throbbing in the water. An approaching boat.
“They are coming for you,” the angel said. “Rise and go with them. Return to your friends.”
“But what about…Daniel?” she demanded, beginning to struggle for air. “And Zane? You…promised. Let me take him…them to the hospital.”
He shook his head at her. “They are both mine. I will care for them.” And indeed, he held Daniel in loving, possessive arms, supporting Daniel’s huge, muscular frame, while the nai’a clustered around Zane, buoying him up among them. The injured dolphin was with them as well, his friends close at his sides.
“Yours?” she asked uncertainly. “W-who are you?”
He smiled, beautiful, arrogant, implacable. He seemed to grow larger as she watched. “I am Kanaloa, guardian of these seas. And this is the dearest of my ho’omalu, my warriors.”
He looked at her over Daniel’s head. “He belongs to me. In exchange for his life, you will leave him to me and return to your mainland home. You have no place in his life.”
Claire shook her head. But the nai’a closed in around her, nudging her, pushing her up. And she had no more strength to fight. She could only watch Daniel grow smaller and smaller as Kanaloa swam away with him into the depths, the nai’a streaming behind them, carrying Zane.
She broke the surface, held up by rubbery snouts, and closed her eyes weakly against the bright sunlight, coughing out her mouthpiece, taking deep, shuddering breaths of the air as strong hands reached down to grasp her, pull her from the water and into the boat.
It was Daniel’s boat, and the big, golden-skinned man who pulled her from the water was achingly familiar. It was David who held her, laying her carefully on the bench seat and taking off her dive equipment. His face was grim, she saw against the blue sky. His uncle, silver-haired and equally grim, stood at the wheel.
“He’s…safe,” she managed when David peeled her mask and breathing tube off. “They both—are. K-Kanaloa…promised.”
“Ah, wahine,” David said, his deep voice tender. “Hush, now. Rest.”
“He…he said…I had to let him go.”
“Shh, I know. He’ll take care of Daniel. You don’t need to worry about him.”
At such a cruel affirmation of her worst fear, she was vaguely surprised to be gathered into David’s powerful arms, her head tucked into the curve of his throat.
“She’s wounded,” Homu said. “I will heal her.”
They pulled at her wet suit, stripping it off her. She whimpered as the movement jerked her shoulder. Then a powerful, warm hand closed over it. “Be still, wahine. Let me help you.”
Pain crackled through her shoulder like thousands of tiny needles dancing on her skin, burrowing into her flesh. She whimpered again, struggling, but David held her still. “Shush,” he murmured. “It’s all right, little sister.”
The pain subsided, and the boat roared to life beneath her. But she lay limp in David’s arms. Gone… Daniel was lost to her.
She let the darkness take her.
Chapter Seventeen
Wednesday, June 19th
Claire slept again and dreamed of Daniel.
He was carried away by huge sharks, all smiling triumphantly, while Kanaloa pointed his finger at her, his beautiful eyes brilliant with scorn.
“You must go from this island,” he told her. “Go back to your home, and forget that you ever knew this man, as he will forget you. You are nothing to him.”
He faded, and she was alone in the vast ocean, terrifying because it was utterly empty.
She woke with a start to find Melia sitting beside her in the lamplit bedroom. Her friend leaned over her, cupping her cheek in a warm hand. “It’s all right, sweetie,” Melia said. “You’re safe.”
Claire frowned, swallowing. Her mouth felt as if it had been swabbed out with cotton. “Where is Daniel?”
Melia handed her a glass of water and waited while she took a long drink. It slid down her throat, cool and soothing. “He’s…not back yet.”
“You know, don’t you?” Claire lay back against the pillows, swamped with memories. “About Daniel…and David. And their family?”
Melia nodded, her pretty face grave. “Yes. I know. David and I…but I’ll tell you that story another time. For now, you’re safe.”
Claire scowled at her. “I was attacked by speargun-wielding drug smugglers, found out my—my boyfriend, or whatever the hell he is, can apparently go without breathing underwater and talk to dolphins and sharks. I met a Hawaiian angel—god—or whatever, and a volcano erupted while I was right next to a vent! I think I deserve some answers, don’t you?”
Her voice rose as she spoke until she was nearly shouting. She pressed her lips together, trembling. Her throat swelled, and suddenly tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, sweetie.” Melia slipped from her chair to the bed and gathered Claire into her arms, warm and comforting. Claire laid her head on her friend’s shoulder and let herself go, sobbing so hard she could hardly breathe.