These ships were moving away from the town.
He knew of only one reason for humans to be at sea as night fell. They were hunting kraken.
Dracchus clenched his jaw against the sudden flare of heat in his chest. His people had been hunters throughout their existence, and he would not allow them to become prey while his hearts still beat. No one deserved to be hunted and slaughtered simply because of what they were.
That included humans.
Despite his anger, he understood. The humans were acting against a potential threat. Dracchus had often guided his people to do the same.
Glancing up at the shadowed underside of the huge boat, he cast aside his rage and reviewed the situation. Assumptions could be dangerous — he didn’t know what these humans were doing — but his instincts rarely failed him.
Dracchus looked toward Vasil and Neo, who swam to his right; the latter was one of Kronus’s and had joined this scouting trip along with another human-opposed kraken, Garon. Their presence served as a reminder that, regardless of Dracchus’s wishes, none of this was simple, and none of it would be easy. The kraken were divided amongst themselves.
Gut feelings, as Randall aptly called them, wouldn’t be enough to convince either side.
Neo signed with hands and tentacles, adding a few flashes of color to emphasize his impatience. Will we follow all night?
Dracchus shook his head. They’d gain little in trailing the boats through the darkness, but confirmation that the humans had a massive ship was too little information to take away.
What did he know?
Humans were social creatures. They seemed helpless but to speak and interact with each other. Dracchus had grown to appreciate such behavior; he was fond of Macy, Aymee, and Randall, and enjoyed their conversation, even if they used words in ways he did not understand. Could their social nature prove a benefit to the kraken?
Did the potential reward outweigh the risk of attempting to exploit human nature?
We must go up, alongside them, he signed.
Vasil flashed yellow; danger.
Neo grinned. He raised a hand with fingers splayed and snapped them closed into a fist, punctuating it with a flicker of red. It was a simple sign, used often during hunts.
Make the kill.
For the first time since they’d departed that morning, unease twisted in Dracchus’s gut.
He signaled no firmly, tinting his skin crimson to make it clear that he’d accept no disagreement. Until they broke the surface, there was no guessing how many humans were in the boats or how heavily they were armed. He wouldn’t lead these kraken to needless deaths.
Stay close to them. Dracchus signed, gesturing to the boats. Watch. Listen.
Neo scowled, but he offered no argument.
Perhaps with more time, or assistance from Arkon or one of the humans at the Facility, Dracchus might have reached a clever, covert means to obtain the information they sought, but no one was around to offer innovative solutions. Vasil and Brexes were reliable and trustworthy, but they were no more prone to unconventional thought than Dracchus.
They needed to know the humans’ purpose.
The thickening darkness on the surface would pair well with the kraken’s natural camouflage. With patience and luck, there was a chance they’d be able to return home before the next sunrise.
Dracchus directed Vasil and Neo to the rightmost boat, Brexes and Garon to the left, and looked up at the central vessel — the humans’ wooden behemoth. It seemed somehow fitting for Dracchus to take it on himself.
He altered his skin to match the dark water and swam upward. His tentacles brushed along the underside of the boat. Though the wood was smooth, his tentacles sensed every tiny imperfection in the material. He was used to the sleek metal and plastic of the Facility, to the soft sand and rough stone of the seafloor. Wood seemed unnatural to him, though he knew it came from land vegetation.
He drew himself along the curved wood until his head finally emerged from the water. Vasil and Neo surfaced alongside the smaller boat to the right, which sailed several body-lengths away from Dracchus, and signaled they were okay.
Only thin, weak moonlight provided any illumination from overhead, diluted by dark clouds. When Vasil and Neo matched their skin to the boat at their backs, even Dracchus had difficulty discerning their forms; this was enough light for a kraken to see by, but Randall had explained that human sight was comparatively poor in the dark.
They would be almost invisible to the humans.
Dracchus latched onto the side of the boat with tentacles and claws, pressing himself against it, and altered his camouflage to match the wood.
The sea sounded different from above; the wind filled his ears, but couldn’t drown out the hissing and sighing of the ever-moving water, or the constant rush of boats traveling over its surface. Several humans stood on the right boat, bathed in the glow of a cylindrical light which hung from a post near the front of the craft. The light’s reflection shimmered atop the water but barely penetrated the surrounding darkness.
Something about it raised Dracchus’s suspicions; weren’t there predatory sea creatures that used natural emissions of light — Arkon called it bioluminescence — to lure in prey?
One of the humans reached up and rang a bell hanging from the ship’s central pole. Another bell on the largest ship answered with two measured rings, a pause, and two more rings. Dracchus knew it was some sort of signal but couldn’t guess its meaning.
Dracchus tilted his head. Human voices drifted to him from somewhere above him, but they were nearly swallowed by the noise of wind and sea, and he couldn’t make out the words.
The kraken’s current positions were risky enough, but they’d be facing danger for nothing if they couldn’t hear the humans’ conversations.
He lifted his gaze, examining the hull. The weak moonlight cast the smooth planks along this side of the ship in shadow. They were designed to break water, not to be climbed, but he had to get closer.
Dracchus granted himself no time to second-guess his decision. He turned to face the hull, lifted his arms out of the water, and sank his claws into the wood. The wind chilled his exposed skin as he pulled himself out of the water. Spreading his tentacles wide, he climbed higher, creeping up a handspan at a time.
The human voices grew clearer with each beat of his hearts.
He glanced down. The water speeding by below him was disorienting, but the boat rocked to the familiar rhythm of the waves, easing the strangeness.
He pulled himself closer to the top, closed his eyes, and shifted all his focus to listening.
“…do this now, sir,” someone said.
“Probably more. Just let them come,” said another. Both were male.
“We have a chance at five, sir. Do we want to pass that up?”
A chance at five what?
Realization struck Dracchus a heartbeat later.
“Fine. Sound it,” commanded the second human.
The bell on the largest ship sounded again, forgoing the measured beats of a few moments before in favor of a rapid, bone-rattling alarm.
Dracchus signed toward Neo and Vasil — below, to the deep! — but the humans were already in motion.
Footsteps thudded hurriedly on the deck of the large ship, and the humans in the smaller boat were at the siderail with strange guns in their hands.
“Below!” Dracchus roared.
Two of the humans on the small boat put feet up on the rail and leaned over the side, swinging their weapons toward Vasil and Neo, hampered by the length of their guns and the awkward angle. Two more men from the same vessel aimed at Dracchus.
There was a boom from overhead. Vasil jerked against the side of the smaller boat, something small jutting from his neck.
Dracchus released his hold on the hull as the men on the other boat fired. Two heavy thumps marked the impact of projectiles on the wood just before Dracchus hit the water. He darted toward Vasil and Neo; all he could do fo
r Brexes and Garon now was hope they’d reacted quickly enough.
Projectiles hit the water around him. He ignored them and pressed forward, aiming for the blotch of crimson ahead — Neo, his color reflecting his fury.
Another gunshot sounded behind Dracchus.
Vasil pushed away from the boat sluggishly. Neo followed, shaking his head sharply. A projectile was embedded in his shoulder, gleaming in the weak moonlight.
The men on the boat behind the pair raised a bulky gun. It went off with a pop, and a torrent of bubbles obscured Vasil and Neo.
The thrashing of the two kraken weakened quickly, and as the water cleared, Dracchus realized what had happened — the large gun had fired a net around Vasil and Neo, and their struggles had only entangled them further.
Dracchus dismissed conscious thought, giving over to instinct. The humans on the boat were the primary threat. Increasing his speed, he swam past his companions and surged up, leaping above the surface.
The humans along the rail stumbled back. Dracchus couldn’t tell if they were moved by surprise or fear; their eyes were covered by strange devices made of plastic or glass.
He latched onto the side of the boat before the humans could react beyond their reflexive retreat and lashed out with arms and tentacles. Catching hold of limbs and clothing, he wrenched all four humans toward him. Their lower bodies struck the wood railing, levering their upper bodies over the top. Dracchus released his hold quickly, allowing all four to plunge into the water with flailing limbs and startled cries.
The pair of humans remaining on the boat stared at him with large eyes but remained frozen in place — one at the rear, and one at the wind-cloth pole.
Dracchus twisted to look at the large boat.
More humans with guns lined the siderail, but his attention was drawn immediately to one. A female. Even in the muted moonlight, her hair, woven into a thick cord, was a vibrant red. She wore a device over her eyes, too, and her full lips betrayed no emotion.
The other humans fired, their shots hitting the hull of the boat and the water around Dracchus.
The red-haired female’s gun flashed with a hollow bang.
Piercing pain erupted on Dracchus’s neck. He reached up, grasped the tube-like projectile, and tugged it out of his throat. Only the tip, a thin, glistening needle, had penetrated. He dropped it into the sea.
Drawing back the bolt of her gun with practiced ease, the female loaded another projectile.
Dracchus pushed off the boat and rushed toward his companions, ignoring the four humans frantically swimming toward their vessel. A tingling sensation radiated from his neck, creeping through his shoulder and along his arms, numbing his face. He shook his head, but the numbness did not diminish.
The net was attached to the small boat by a thick rope. He grasped the tether with a hand and a tentacle, pulling it taut, and raised his claws to it. His fingers moved sluggishly, refusing to bend fully.
Another hollow bang, and something impacted his right shoulder. He felt pressure, but no pain.
His vision blurred, and his unresponsive fingers slipped off the rope. Blinking, he swung his gaze to his companions. Their struggles had ceased.
Had they been poisoned?
A fire ignited in Dracchus’s gut. He turned toward the large boat and roared, forcing all his strength, all his will, into a headlong charge toward the red-haired female.
She didn’t flinch. Her gun boomed.
A heavy blow forced the air from Dracchus’s lungs, and darkness claimed him.
Larkin tore off her goggles and stared, wide-eyed, as the creature collapsed in the dark water. Her heart pounded, and she had to force her ragged breaths through a dry, constricted throat.
She’d hunted animals of all sizes, had faced down beasts that could topple trees when they charged, had stalked predators so quiet that they could only be heard in the space between breaths. She’d almost lost her life on many occasions.
But she’d never hunted anything that was intelligent enough to prioritize its actions, had never hunted anything that looked at her with such intelligent, focused rage.
Shouts rose around her, and boots thumped on the deck. A net gun fired with a low pop. The net wrapped around the dark form in the water, but even that didn’t ease her; it had taken three tranquilizers to stop the creature, and they’d balanced the dosage to make each dart strong enough to knock out several full-grown men.
Larkin lowered her rifle, resting its barrel on the railing to still the tremors in her arms.
“The other two escaped, commander,” one of the rangers called over the other voices. “Got out of scanner range.”
Larkin turned her head in time to see her father and Ranger Dane pass behind her, heading toward the back end of the ship. She pushed away from the rail and followed them.
Nicholas spat out a curse. “Get the rest of them secured and on this boat. I want them locked up before they come to.”
Rangers scrambled to fulfill his orders. There was a sense of cautious excitement amongst them; the few townsfolk from The Watch who’d agreed to come along to help operate the ships were more reserved, exchanging worried glances with each other.
Larkin frowned. The locals had told the rangers that two young women from town had been taken by the kraken, often in overly-dramatic tales of nighttime abductions during a terrifying storm, but the families of the missing women had given a very different take.
The women had gone willingly.
She’d dismissed that as a coping mechanism, a mental shield against the loss of their daughters, but if the kraken were intelligent enough to speak and reason…
Larkin shouldered through the crowd gathered at the center of the ship. At the center of the group, several men guided a dripping net down from a pulley. Four rangers anchored the rope on the other end, leaning back to use their weight to counter the black kraken’s bulk. They lowered the net into the pool of seawater on the deck and opened the net.
The creature lay in a heap of tangled limbs, completely still apart from its slow, shallow breathing. Several nearby rangers pointed their rifles at the beast. It took three of them to roll the creature onto its back, using the butts of their rifles for leverage.
“Fucker is huge!” someone said.
Larkin stared at the kraken. Its skin was black, with gray stripes on its tentacles, arms, and head. Its broad shoulders led down to a tapered waist. Based on its musculature, she had no doubt it was male; she was more shocked by how human it appeared once she looked past the obvious differences.
One of the rangers approached the kraken with a large metal collar. Another man lifted its head, allowing Larkin a glimpse of the creature’s face — a wide mouth, a hairless brow, and only a pair of holes where its nose should have been — before her view was blocked.
The collar barely fit around its neck.
A heavy hand fell upon her shoulder, startling her.
“Good work, ranger,” her father said.
She turned her head toward him. The frustration had faded from his expression, but a worrisome gleam remained in his eyes. Larkin missed Randall with all her heart, but Nicholas Laster seemed obsessed.
“The couple that got away wasn’t your fault,” he continued. “You did your job exceptionally. Two and a half damned weeks out on this water, and it finally paid off. I’m proud of you, Elle.”
A flicker of pride swelled within her at his praise, but it quickly subsided.
“What are you going to do with them now?” She looked forward as six men grasped the net under the creature and hauled it toward the ramp leading below deck, their muscles straining.
“We’re going to establish them in their new quarters and ask them some questions when they wake up.” The tightness creeping into Nicholas’s expression offered Larkin no comfort.
“I heard this one shout a warning to the others. Cyrus was right. They do speak our language.”
“Well, we’ll find out if they know more than one or two
words soon enough.”
“Father, what are y—”
“We’re done here, ranger. Hit your bunk. You’ve earned some rest.” Before she could say anything more, he turned and stepped away, barking orders at the others as they hauled the second net out of the water.
She clamped her teeth together to suppress her hurt. Things had changed drastically since they’d learned of Randall’s disappearance, but the rift between Larkin and her father seemed to grow daily. In his quest to find his son, he was pushing his daughter away.
Larkin brushed the stray bits of hair from her face and looked out over the silver-lit sea. Despite her efforts, her gaze drifted back to the kraken.
This didn’t feel like an accomplishment.
It felt wrong.
Chapter 4
A dull throbbing between his temples drew Dracchus up from impenetrable blackness. Awareness returned slowly. His mouth was dry, which he’d never experienced before, and his eyelids were too heavy to open. His aching arms were drawn up with his hands to either side of his head, held in place by metal bindings at his wrists. A larger piece of metal encircled his neck. His tentacles were also bundled together tightly by a rough, irritating material, leaving no room for them to move independently. The whole bundle felt like it was anchored at his waist.
Clenching his teeth, he forced his eyes open. His vision adjusted so slowly that he wasn’t sure if the gloom was in the air around him or merely a result of his own grogginess.
Vertical bars ran in front of him and to either side. He turned his head, but the collar would only allow a small degree of movement. He tugged at his bindings tentatively; they offered no give and were likely attached to the cool piece of metal at his back.
“Finally awake, leader?” Neo asked. “We should have killed them. All we did was hand ourselves over to our enemies.”
Heart of the Deep (The Kraken Book 3) Page 3