He shoved her away, and the look in his eyes was stunned, brokenhearted. “Not him. Anyone but him, Jenny.”
Because he has always had what you wanted, she thought. Oh, God. Les.
“I always made it clear I felt nothing for you, except friendship,” she whispered.
Les dragged in a deep breath, and reached out again to grab her arm. His fingers squeezed too tightly, but she didn’t make a sound.
“I suppose you think . . . Perrin . . . can give you something I can’t,” he said, hoarse. “You just don’t know him, Jenny. Or maybe you do. Maybe you like a little pain.”
Those tears rolled down her cheeks, but not because he was hurting her body. Just her heart. Les was gone. Her friend was dead.
“I’ll miss you,” she whispered.
Les frowned. “What?”
Jenny head-butted him. He was not expecting it, and she had good aim. His broken nose crunched. She tried to dart away, but he grabbed her, swearing ugly words as fresh blood streamed down his face.
Jenny was certain he would hit her. The rage in his eyes was terrifying. But just as quickly it turned into disbelief, a terrible hurt that reminded her too much of the Les she had known, the man she had believed him to be. Good, vulnerable, cocky Les. Les, who had been her friend.
Les, who spun her around. His good hand disappeared—and then reappeared, holding a knife. He was so fast, Jenny didn’t have time to fight before he dug the blade into the meat of her neck, so hard he pushed her underwater. Jenny screamed, the sea flooding her mouth, choking her. Les pulled her deep under the surface. Jenny glimpsed the mermaids watching, teeth bared in excitement.
The kra’a screamed with her. Power pulsed, like a shotgun being pumped. Jenny slammed her elbow into Les’s gut. Again and again, trying to twist away. Les stopped trying to pry out the kra’a just long enough to punch her side, and then her ribs, making her double over. The knife flashed back to her skull, digging in harder.
Enough, whispered the kra’a.
A pulse of blue light roared over Jenny’s body, slamming from her in a shock wave that sent Les spinning into the mermaids with crushing force. Blood streamed from their noses as they drifted against each other, stunned and twitching.
Jenny went blind, clawing at her throat. She tried kicking, but was too weak to reach the surface.
Perrin, she called out, widening the crack in the wall between them. A rush of images surrounded her, along with the sensation of extended arms, neck and shoulders hunched, her large, muscular body undulating as her hips were forced up, tail driving down in a propulsive, distance-eating beat—
I’m coming, he said, and she snapped back into her own body.
Something very large bumped her legs, and her mind reached out instinctively. She wanted Perrin, but it was the great white shark that filled her thoughts: cool, restrained, and filled with strange purpose.
No time, whispered the kra’a, and Jenny’s hand moved of its own accord, reaching out. When the shark made another pass beneath her, her fingers closed around its fin, and she was pulled into swift, graceful flight.
Stop, Jenny told the kra’a, afraid. Stop controlling me.
We know your heart. You would do this anyway.
Doesn’t matter. This is my body.
Our body. One flesh. One spirit. Three minds.
Three minds? asked Jenny.
Me. You. It, Perrin said, breaking in. Where are you taking her?
Below, whispered the kra’a. To the Kraken.
It might have been around Christmas, or maybe the New Year, but while some folks were eating turkey and fighting with family over the remote control, Jenny had climbed into a submersible, alone, to dive almost three miles below the ocean’s surface.
Lost, sinking, drifting. Listening to the walls groan as the ocean tried to crush her little metal bubble. VHF radio turned off. No lights except the pinprick glow of dials.
Peaceful. Safe. No one around who could hurt her. Nature might take her life, but that was okay. Wouldn’t be personal. Not malicious, or vindictive, or cruel. In nature, life and death happened. It just happened, and you couldn’t always stop it.
Sometimes, you didn’t want to stop it.
Jenny knew there was magic in the sea. It was not the only reason she loved the sea, but it added one more element of wonder to an unseen world that was already awe-inspiring. The sea was life. More life than could be dreamed.
But dreams, apparently, were the cornerstone of all that life.
And she was the chosen dreamer.
Sharks could dive to a depth of six thousand feet. A little over a mile. For humans without protection from pressure and cold, one thousand feet was the limit. And even that was too much.
She didn’t know how deep they had gone, but it was already difficult enough to breathe. Each rush of salt water into her body made her feel as though she was on the edge of drowning.
The cold was terrible. The pressure, crushing.
You are going to kill me, Jenny told the kra’a. I’m only human, no matter what changes you’ve made.
Wait, it whispered. Wait.
Perrin’s warmth filled her mind. Bring her back.
Wait, whispered the kra’a, again.
And the shark continued its descent.
Jenny tried opening her eyes, but the pressure was too much. She journeyed, blind, helpless to do anything but grip the fin in her hand, suffering the weight of the sea and what was facing her below, the immensity of which continued to grow inside her mind.
The Kraken opened its golden eye.
You, whispered a low voice. You, of the song.
Each word fell into her. Each word a blow. Each word drowning her identity. Jenny struggled with all her strength to remember herself. For a moment, she didn’t even recall her name.
Jenny, said a low voice. You are Jenny.
She clung to that name, and the voice, which sank into her as warm and strong as the rumble of the Kraken inside her head. Anchoring her. Rooting her so that she did not rip away. A masculine presence, filling her mind, holding the hand of her spirit. It was the most freeing, transcendent, sensation she had ever experienced—joined and strengthened, and made one—as though her soul was capable of miracles. Bigger than the heart of the beast waking beneath her in the darkness, staring at her with its golden eye.
Strong hands slid around her waist.
Who? she asked.
Perrin, he said. I am Perrin.
Jenny remembered, in flashes. A beach. A boy. Silver light and silver scales, and the silver waves of the sea. She remembered a man with pale eyes, and the hands that held her now, she remembered, too. She reached, fumbling, her movements slow and painful and cold, and touched a muscular arm that wrapped around her, drawing her close and tight against a hard chest and a broad tail that undulated against her legs.
The shark continued to pull Jenny down, but she hardly noticed. Her fingers were tight as iron clamps around its fin, and that was the only part of her physical self that still felt strong. Her body had moved beyond discomfort, past pain and cold. Dying, a little more with each passing second.
But inside, she was safe and warm, and didn’t care.
I care, whispered Perrin, holding her even closer, warming her skin. I care, Jenny.
We’re being watched, she thought at him, numb. I feel eyes.
Ignore them.
She ignored the gathering Krackeni, because the Kraken chose that moment to lift its head from where it was buried beneath thousands of years of rock and sediment. Sluggish. Still partially asleep. But slipping into a deeper awareness.
She felt it all her in her mind, part of her observing from within the Kraken itself, and another part seemingly gifted with magic eyes that were able to see the seafloor buck
le and heave upward. The shock wave that rippled from that movement spun the shark sideways. Jenny lost her grip on its fin and rolled with Perrin, who held her tight against him.
The Kraken moved again. Claws. Tail.
Speak to it, said Perrin urgently. We’re close enough now.
Speak, whispered the kra’a. Dream.
I don’t know how, she told them, her mind flirting with a very pressing need to fall unconscious. All that was left of her was her mind, it seemed. She could not feel her body anymore.
Then feel mine, Perrin told her, and his soul gathered her beneath his skin.
She could see again, suddenly—the outlines of massive rocks, where she glimpsed movement: flowing silver hair and narrow muscular bodies that darted amongst fish, fleeing into shadows; and huge, pale eyes that stared at her in passing.
She saw herself, in Perrin’s arms. Small and still, pale as a corpse. Bubbles trickled from her nostrils, but so few she was surprised her brain had enough oxygen to keep functioning. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was hallucinating all of this. Seeing herself was frightening.
Fear, rumbled the Kraken. Fear tastes like prey.
No, Jenny said instantly, forgetting for one brief second that she was speaking to a sea monster. Fear of death is a fear of losing what you love, and not experiencing more. Fear, at the loss of never knowing something else, or having the chance to be something else.
The Kraken stirred. I have slept too long. I feel the weight of time.
No, Perrin soothed, mentally reaching over Jenny’s shoulder. No time has passed since you entered your slumber. You still have many lives yet to experience.
Many lives. Jenny suddenly understood.
The Kraken had to want to sleep. Its dreams had to be better than life. Its dreams had to make it forget itself. And live, as something else.
So many dreams, Jenny told it. Good dreams.
Dreams are not the same as life, said the Kraken, breaking more earth. The shock wave spun them into a pile of rocks. Searing pain lanced down Perrin’s side, and Jenny felt it.
Then let us live for you, she said, fighting not to be buried in that pain. We can live what you never will.
And Jenny reached for the first thing that came to mind, and pushed it at the Kraken.
It was a simple memory. Perrin, kneeling in front of her, speaking of knights and shining armor—and the rush of warmth that had filled her as she watched him: the overwhelming, heart-in-her-throat ache of safety and love, chasing away a lifetime of loneliness. Emotions that bloomed again, inside her. Raw and shining.
Jenny pushed those memories upon the Kraken with a deep, wild satisfaction—and all the force two souls could muster. Because Perrin was behind her, feeding her his strength and compounding it with a rush of love so powerful she would have choked had she still been in her body.
And, for one moment following that, Perrin lay exposed to her—his whole life, his darkest thoughts—everything spread out before the eyes of her heart.
And she looked with her heart. Even as she felt him looking at her.
Jenny heard a deep rumbling sigh inside her head—the thunder of a mental voice so powerful it should have killed her.
She sent the Kraken another memory, of Perrin holding her after they had made love, before she started crying and remembering her baby. She sent the Kraken her memory of seeing Perrin shape-shift after leaving The Calypso Star—the magic of it, the awe she had felt–
—and she sent it, too, the memory of her joy after she had learned that she was pregnant—
—the secret hope that she might have another child—
—the secret desire to live a long life with the man inside her mind—
—the secret and terrible joy—
—of being loved—
—loved so deeply—
—and having her—
—deepest dream—
—come true—
Every good thing in her heart and memories, she fed to the Kraken. Relentless in her outpouring, flooding the beast, until she heard another thunderous sigh that was nonetheless soft and full of pleasure.
Dream, said the Kraken. Dream your life. That is a life I wish to dream.
Sleep, then, Jenny told it gently, as Perrin said the same words, even softer. Sleep, and we will give you dreams to live on.
Sleep to live, rumbled the Kraken, and closed its golden eye. For a little while longer.
Sleep, Jenny whispered, and hummed to it the old song from the beach, feeling a strange tenderness for the immense beast settling deeper into the seafloor. Sleep.
Dream, murmured the Kraken, and its presence faded from her mind. Jenny hung there, waiting for more, for something to go wrong. A rush of admiration and love rolled over her mind.
You did it, Perrin said. You did it.
He settles into sleep, said the kra’a. We will dream him a life no other Kraken has ever known.
Good, Jenny told them, but couldn’t even think another word. The rush was gone. She felt her real body, suddenly, tugging her back. She tried to hold on to Perrin, but slipped away—slamming into human flesh that felt like a corpse. Her thoughts slowed. She could not move. Or breathe.
Perrin swam with her toward the surface. Her chest hurt. Everything was numb. Heart, mostly not beating. Decompression sickness was a serious danger. If she survived the ascent, it would be a miracle.
Jenny forgot that anyone wanted them dead.
And by the time it mattered, she mostly was.
Chapter Twenty
Three times Jenny’s heart almost stopped beating. Three times he almost died with her. Perrin swam for the surface, knowing the ascent might kill her as much as anything but seeing no alternative.
You changed her enough to breathe underwater, he said to the kra’a, wishing it were a person so he could throttle it. Make another miracle. Keep her alive.
But the kra’a was silent. All it did was tear down the wall between his mind and Jenny’s. Her spirit flowed over him, but it was quiet, and he fed it with all his strength.
Live, he begged her, desperate. Live.
Perrin was so deep in Jenny’s mind, he didn’t realize they were surrounded until a blunt object hit him hard against the back of his head. He twisted in the water, still wrapped around Jenny’s body and spirit, and found himself facing a pod of Krackeni hunters, swimming silently around him in a large circle. Sleek, strong, their pale gazes hard.
His father hovered in the water, watching him.
In his eight years on land, Perrin had spoken of his father only once—with Tom, on an early-winter morning after they left the homeless shelter to walk to a construction site that was rumored to need strong bodies.
Perrin had a strong body. Tom went along to keep him company before heading out into the city for a day of panhandling.
The subject came up because Tom happened to see a newspaper and remembered that his father, a “righteous dude,” would have been eighty that day had he still been alive, and Tom, much as he missed him, was sort of glad he wasn’t because the world had gotten ugly and dirty, and his only son was living on the streets instead of being the upstanding taxpayer all good folk were supposed to be.
Tom had asked Perrin about his father, and Perrin said, “We had an . . . uneasy relationship.”
Now, it was just deadly.
Perrin studied his father’s pale eyes. There was nothing there to find: no anger, no remorse.
There were many things he wanted to say to his father. Instead, he continued swimming toward the surface. If they wanted him dead, it wouldn’t matter whether it was below or above.
Moments later, his father caught up. He said nothing. Simply swam with him, less than an arm’s length away. Jenny was so still.
Perrin
broke the surface, holding Jenny high out of the waves. He expected her to cough, vomit seawater—but she didn’t react to the air.
She wasn’t breathing.
You, Perrin snapped at the kra’a, and floated Jenny on her back, trying to hold them steady as the waves swelled. He pinched her nose shut, tried to tilt up her neck, and as the waves sent them spinning, he planted his mouth over hers and breathed for her.
Jenny, he called out to her. Jenny.
Jenny, breathe. Jenny, breathe.
Don’t leave me. Don’t. Please.
Please.
Each breath. Each breath he reached for her, inside. Each breath, begging, dying with her. He would die without her. He knew it. All his years surviving, and if he lost her, it wouldn’t be a day before his heart gave out. Whatever bond they shared bound them too tightly for anything less.
He realized, then, that his father was helping hold her body. So carefully not looking at Perrin.
Jenny twitched. Her back arched, and her eyes flew open. Bloodshot, blood red, through and through. A tangle of broken veins covered her cheeks, and her lips were peeling and raw. Her bruises were wicked. She floundered in the water, coughing, vomiting, scrabbling against Perrin’s chest and shoulders as her body rebelled. It was the most painful thing he had ever witnessed, but all he wanted to do was laugh with relief, and weep.
“Shhh,” he whispered, tears burning his eyes—holding her as she trembled and tried to breathe. The sounds she made, forcing air into her lungs, were horrible. Blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. Her nose began to bleed, too.
Perrin held her as close as he dared and risked a look at his father. Turon floated near, his gaze unreadable. No others were with him, but Perrin could feel his kind amassed below, watching, waiting. No doubt wondering what it meant that a kra’a had chosen a human woman, who had then settled a waking Kraken. No Krackeni, Perrin was certain, would have been able to accomplish what she had done, in so little time, and with such ease.
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