Heart of the Deep

by Tiffany Roberts

  The door slammed shut, and Neo’s words ended in a snarl. The kraken’s voice was raw, but that hadn’t stopped him from making his threats.

  Did Neo realize that the humans were intelligent enough to see through his fury and recognize the distress beneath the surface?

  “Save your energy,” Dracchus said.

  “Every one of them will die!” Neo growled. “First those on this boat, then on the other two. We will return to the Facility and slaughter those humans as well. It is because of that slit Jax brought back that this is happening!”

  “I will not tolerate threats against them.” Dracchus narrowed his eyes at Neo, ignoring the sharp pain as a cut on his forehead widened.

  “How can you defend them after this?” Neo shouted.

  “They are not responsible for the actions of others,” Vasil said quietly.

  “Now you speak? Now you have something to say?” Neo flashed his color in challenge at Vasil. “You haven’t uttered a word to these humans, but now you will speak against me?”

  “You would allow your hate to bring you to kill innocents,” Vasil replied, looking at the angry kraken. “Where is your honor?”

  “Honor is—”

  “The way of our people,” Dracchus said. “You and your lot claim to uphold our traditions, but you have lost your honor. You are no better than the humans holding us.”

  Neo growled threateningly but said no more.

  Dracchus closed his eyes. With the swaying of the ship, he could almost imagine himself riding the waves, could almost taste the salty breeze. The sound of water against the hull was still strange to him, but at least he knew it was the sea. That had to be comfort enough for now.

  Breathing slowly, he reviewed the day’s wounds, exploring each pain individually. The damage inflicted on the first day had healed overnight. He expected today’s damage would be nearly gone by the next morning, leaving what Arkon would call a blank canvas.

  He missed Arkon and Jax. It was a strange feeling for him, especially after years of conflict with them, but he couldn’t deny how much he wished they were near. They’d proven more dependable than anyone else he knew. They’d become his friends.

  They were where they belonged, defending what was important to them, what was important to all kraken — the future.

  The sound of the door drew Dracchus out of his contemplative state. He opened his eyes to see a dark figure enter the room — a human carrying a light. The cord of red hair hanging over the figure’s shoulder was the first detail to come into focus as his vision adjusted.

  What blame should he place upon this female? She’d fired the shots that incapacitated him, Neo, and Vasil. She’d been essential to their capture. He should’ve hated her.

  But there’d been something in her voice the night before that had given him pause.

  Every kraken hunting party was led by an individual, and that individual’s decisions were to be obeyed for the duration of the hunt. That had been the kraken way for as long as anyone could remember. What if it was the same amongst the humans?

  The commander led this massive hunting party. The female had followed his orders, had carried out his plan. She was an enemy to the kraken, but were all enemies equal? Was it possible for her to be an…unwilling enemy?

  The female closed the door and raised her lantern to look at Vasil; he simply turned his head away from her. Neo snapped his teeth when the light touched him. Dracchus averted his eyes from the harsh glare when she drew closer to him. Pausing, she placed the lantern on the floor — turning it so it did not shine directly upon him — and approached his cell.

  She stared at him in silence for a long while; Dracchus felt her gaze lingering even after he tipped his head back and shut his eyes.

  “Did you tell the Commander where the rangers are?” she asked.

  “Why do you assume we know?” Dracchus replied.

  “We received a report about your kind from one of our own, Cyrus Taylor. He dispatched another ranger to our base of operations right before he and his group left The Watch in search of kraken. They never came back.”

  “They’re dead,” Neo said.

  Dracchus opened his eyes and met Neo’s gaze; all their people knew what had happened in the Broken Cavern, when Jax, Arkon, and Dracchus battled the rangers. They knew that only one of the rangers had left that place alive.

  Neo looked up at the female, who had turned to face him. “And you will join them soon.”

  “Are they dead?” she demanded. “All of them?”

  With a malicious, blood-stained smile, Neo looked away from her.

  She grasped the bars of Neo’s cell, posture tense. “Answer me!”

  The kraken’s only answer was to widen his grin.

  She turned back to Dracchus’s cage and banged a hand on it. He finally looked up at her; she stood with her forehead against the metal, face downturned, one hand grasping a bar above her head. She remained that way for a while, silent and unmoving. Her breaths stirred the small strands of hair that had fallen from her braid.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  Dracchus studied her features. Delicate red brows, a shade darker than her hair, were furrowed above her closed eyes. Long, black lashes rested on her pale cheeks, and now that she was closer to him and he was no longer consumed by his anger, he realized that her skin was dusted with tiny, light brown specks, most prominent across her nose and cheeks.

  None of the humans he’d seen up close were like this one. Her hair was vibrant, her skin unique, and he found himself strangely drawn to her. What did she look like in full light? How would it change her coloring; would it make her hair shine?

  Though he was intrigued by her, he offered no answer to her question.

  She sighed. “My name is Larkin. Elle to my friends and family. Not that I have many.” Her eyes opened and met his.

  The clear, piercing blue of her gaze was familiar to him. They were the same as the commander’s. The same as Randall’s.

  Elle.

  This was Randall’s sister.

  Dracchus’s mind was empty for an instant. He opened his mouth to say something, but could not find words.

  “Do you have family?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied, though he was only distantly aware of his response.

  She searched his face and frowned. “Sometimes you will do anything to protect the ones you love. Go to any extreme. But that doesn’t always make it right.”

  Dracchus had the sense that she was speaking as much to herself as to him.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “About what?” Dracchus couldn’t read her expression, and it made her seemingly simple question difficult to unravel.

  “You can free us, you filthy human slit!” Neo snarled.

  She was unfazed by Neo’s outburst. “I can’t do that.”

  “Water,” Vasil said.

  She met Dracchus’s eyes, as though for confirmation.

  He nodded. How had Arkon explained it? “We hydrate by being in water. Seawater.”

  Larkin pushed away from the bars and looked toward the barrel standing in a shadowed corner. She was already disobeying her father’s wishes by being in here; pushing her defiance a little further couldn’t make things any worse. She couldn’t stand for this.

  She walked to the barrel and raised the lid. The briny scent of saltwater struck her as she glanced at the big kraken. “I can’t get into your cell to help you drink this.”

  “Splash it on us,” the grey kraken said.

  “Okay.” Setting the lid aside, she picked up one of the nearby buckets and dunked it into the barrel. She carried the filled container to the gray kraken’s cell, took hold of it in both hands, and splashed the water through the bars.

  The tubular protrusions on the sides of his head flared with his deep breath.

  She repeated the process for the crimson kraken, ignoring his insults and aggression. He couldn’t fulfill his threats.

/>   At least not now.

  After filling the bucket for the third time, she went to the black kraken’s cell. He’d watched her the entire time, silent and calm. He held Larkin’s gaze for a moment before she threw the water into his cell.

  She returned the bucket, slid the lid back into place, and gripped the rim of the barrel with both hands. Leaning on her arms, she looked at the kraken with her brows drawn.

  The red one had calmed, and his color was back to the brown she’d seen the night before, but he continued glaring at her. The gray kraken had closed his eyes and tilted his head back against the wall.

  “It is too late to win us with kindness,” the black kraken said. Despite his imprisonment and his visible wounds, his strength and bearing seemed undiminished. Her father had inflicted pain on this creature, likely great pain, but had not broken him.

  “I know,” she replied. The shame she felt for her part in all this wouldn’t provide these creatures any comfort.

  “Then what do you seek to accomplish?”

  “I’m not sure.” Larkin wanted answers, but that hadn’t been her sole motivation in coming here again. She couldn’t watch this suffering and remain inactive. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I am. This…this is not how I thought it would be.”

  What had she expected? Her father had been trying to capture kraken for months, growing increasingly desperate as the search for Randall and the lost rangers remained fruitless. Nicholas Laster hadn’t been in his right mind — perhaps for longer than she cared to admit — but the idea had appealed to Larkin, too. Randall was alive somewhere, and the chance was as good as any that he had been taken by the kraken, like the two local women.

  Capturing a kraken and squeezing information out of it was their way to find Randall.

  But that had been before she knew anything about these people. Before she’d understood how intelligent they were, how human. Even after receiving Cyrus’s report, the kraken had remained a myth, something that any rational person couldn’t quite believe. But now that she’d seen them up close, spoken to them…they were so much more than she could’ve imagined.

  And they were being tortured. Why hadn’t her father told her this was his plan?

  He knew I’d fight him.

  She would have seen the wrongness of this immediately, even if the kraken weren’t thinking, talking creatures. Nothing deserved to be caged and tortured.

  The black kraken frowned, his amber eyes surprisingly thoughtful despite the swollen flesh around them.

  Larkin looked away and pinched the bridge of her nose. If she released the kraken — she didn’t have the key, but the locks, although sturdy, were simple — she’d be giving up her only chance of finding Randall. Though they’d yet to give up any information, these kraken knew something. She felt it in her bones.

  But how can I condone this?

  She needed to speak to her father. There had to be another way, they just had to figure it out.

  Larkin dropped her hand and barely contained a sardonic laugh. Commander Laster would likely take this opportunity to throw her bleeding heart in her face.

  Pushing away from the barrel, Larkin approached the black kraken’s cell and bent down to retrieve the lantern. She felt his gaze on her back like it was a physical thing as she rose and walked to the door. She reached for the door.

  “I am called Dracchus,” the black kraken said.

  Larkin paused, fingertips on the handle.

  “Thank you…Dracchus.” Without looking back, she exited the room, closed the door, and gently lowered the bar into place.

  At the top of the ramp, she offered Lance a smile. He hadn’t questioned her when she’d come to the brig this time; he’d greeted her, flashed a smile, and told her to stay safe. If Nicholas knew about any of this, Lance would be reprimanded — not only for allowing Larkin to see the kraken, but for flirting with her.

  As the commander’s daughter, Larkin was off limits. That hadn’t stopped men from displaying interest — the knowledge that they could enjoy a woman’s body without risking any complications was tempting for some, even when the potential consequences involved dealing with her father afterward.

  After bidding Lance a good night, Larkin crossed the deck, boots thumping hollowly on the planks. She stopped at the door to her father’s quarters and lifted her hand to knock when she heard voices inside. Lowering her hand, she leaned closer to the door.

  “…heal too quickly. We need to take this to the next level,” Brock said from inside.

  “It’s good they heal quickly,” replied Nicholas. “Doesn’t do us any good if they die before they break.”

  “My hands are fucking killing me, sir,” Sanson grumbled. “We don’t heal like they do. We got to shift our tactics.”

  “At least let us use some blades, or clubs, or something,” Brock urged. “They know they’ll just heal from a few cuts and bruises. Maybe if we threaten them with something more, they’ll talk.”

  “We don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing us too banged up to beat on them, do we?” Altez asked.

  Nicholas grunted thoughtfully.

  Larkin could picture him standing at the window, focused on a point of nothingness near the watery horizon, hands clasped behind his back. That he was considering any of those suggestions made her stomach twist into knots.

  “No,” he finally replied, and his pause after that word was long enough to instill Larkin with false hope, “we don’t want that. Not even the smallest victory for them to latch onto. We’ll explore new options tomorrow. See what kind of damage they can take.”

  Larkin lifted the latch and shoved the door open. It banged against the wall.

  “How could you do this?” she demanded, stalking into the room. The men inside swung their eyes toward her; Brock, Sanson, Altez, and her father. Nicholas Laster indeed stood at the window, hands clasped at the small of his back, gazing at her over his shoulder.

  “Were you eavesdropping?” Altez asked, scowling.

  “You three are dismissed,” Larkin said, not looking away from her father. They didn’t move, but the commander didn’t object. Fury filled her. “I said you are dismissed!”

  Averting their gazes, Brock, Sanson, and Altez shuffled out. Larkin slammed the door behind them and dropped the latch into place.

  Nicholas turned to face her. “I’ll give you thirty seconds to explain just what the hell you think you’re doing, ranger.”

  “What are you doing?” Larkin advanced until only the desk separated them. “Blades? Clubs? See what kind of damage they can take? You’re torturing them!”

  “I’m doing whatever is necessary to find your brother!” He slammed his fists on the desk.

  Larkin didn’t flinch; she held his gaze. “This isn’t the way!”

  “And who are you to tell me that? To judge me? My son, your brother, and you’re going to tell me not to look for him?”

  “I’m not telling you not to look for him, but torture isn’t the way. They are people! How can you not see that?”

  He jabbed his finger toward the door, the cords of his neck standing out. “They are monsters! How can you not see that? They’ll tell me where Randall is before I’m done, and when we get him back, we’ll hunt down every last one of those abominations.”

  Larkin stared at the man, this stranger, before her. “The only monster I see is you.”

  His jaw muscles bulged. “What did you just say to me, girl?”

  “My father would never hurt another human being. Would never inflict such needless suffering. Whether you believe it or not, they are people. You’re just too blinded by anger and desperation to admit it.”

  “You are speaking to your commanding officer,” he said through gritted teeth, “and you don’t know anything about necessity. You don’t know anything about this world! I gave you a good life, you and your brother both. And this is my payment for it? I did everything I could to make you strong, to make you a sur
vivor, and what is there to show?

  “You’re going to shed tears for those monsters, for our enemies? You’re going to turn against me and abandon your brother?”

  Larkin slapped her hand on the desk. “I want him found just as much as you, damnit! But this is not how we’re going to accomplish that!”

  “If that was true, you’d be helping me, not fighting me every step of the way.”

  “I have done everything you asked!” she screamed. “Everything! But this, I will not do. I will not make myself into the monster you’ve become!”

  Nicholas shoved himself around the table and loomed over her, grabbing the front of her shirt. “You will recant that statement and apologize to me immediately.”

  Larkin glared at him. “No.”

  “Maybe I’ve been too easy on you. Sheltered you too much. Maybe I should show you what’s supposed to happen when you oppose your commander.”

  “What would Mother think if she saw you now?”

  “What did you just say?” The unstable gleam in his eyes intensified.

  “This is not the man she loved,” Larkin said, throat tight. Despite her anger, tears filled her eyes. “This is not my father.”

  His face reddened, and he raised his free hand, curling his fingers into a fist.

  Something in Larkin broke. Her father had never raised a hand to her, would never have considered it. He’d always been a hard man, but he’d never been cruel. She mourned for the man she’d known.

  Seconds passed; she didn’t know if he’d follow through and hit her, but she didn’t care. He needed to see what he’d become reflected in her eyes.

  After what felt like forever, he shoved her back, releasing his hold, and turned away. “Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.” His voice was low, quivering with anger.

  Larkin stepped back until she reached the door. She opened it and paused.

  “You should already regret the things you’ve done,” she said quietly before exiting. She pulled the door closed behind her.

  There was a crash on the other side, followed by a furious yell.