Marinah’s ability to control her Nova form is iffy at best so it surprises me she doesn’t kill Campbell quickly. I’m sure there’s a reason. Once she’s satisfied Campbell can’t crawl away, she turns her giant head in my direction and speaks. “Question himth before I eath him,” she roars.
Oh honey, that’s impressive. I walk slowly toward my mate and use my foot to flip Campbell to his back. “You have something to say?”
“Screw you.” He spews out blood and several fangs while writhing on the ground.
I go to my haunches, grab his braids to still him, and lean in close so the heat of my breath washes over him. I circle his throat with a very human hand. “The only deal I’ll make is a quick death. Marinah will not be as kind. She will tear you limb from limb while you’re alive. When you can no longer scream, she will slowly pull your intestines out and eat them. The decision is yours and you have two seconds to make it.” I don’t actually know if Marinah would eat his intestines, but I wouldn’t put anything past her right now. I’m still amazed she controlled her Nova form this well and managed to speak too.
The Warrior’s large eyes go to Marinah and back to me. His tongue comes out, and he licks his bloody lips. “They’re attacking in the next forty-eight hours, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.” He looks back at Marinah. “No woman will ever lead me.”
I rise and place my boot on his face. With a direct strike, I dislocate his jaw and several more fangs fly free along with a mouthful of blood. His eyes jerk to mine before my foot comes down again. This time I crush his face. I said I would make his death fast. I didn’t say I would make it painless.
“Comth on, baby,” Marinah says from behind me. I turn and she holds a large hand out, making mine look like a child’s. With a final kick to Campbell’s crushed skull, I follow my mate to our motorcycles.
We straddle our bikes. “You’re controlling your Nova.” I state the obvious.
“Idth called medithation.”
Chapter Fourteen
Marinah
I sleep like the dead. King, who got out of bed an hour ago, walks back into the room carrying breakfast. The delicious smell of bacon floats through the room.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he says in a low, gruff voice.
I roll over. “Why are you whispering?”
“If you were sleeping, I was hoping you wouldn’t hear.”
“Do you have any idea how much work we have in front of us?” At King’s insistence, we slept last night instead of preparing the island.
“You said it yourself,” he challenges. “We’re ready and have been for years.”
I couldn’t argue. We won’t be sleeping much in our foreseeable future. I toss the bedding aside. King removes the tray covers, and my gut clenches in hunger. I hadn’t realized shifting straight to Nova would take so much out of me. I wouldn’t mind but no matter how many times I tried to recreate the moment Nova burst out instead of Ms. Beast, I fall short. I have no idea how I did it.
“Your half is two pounds of bacon, a dozen eggs, and ten pieces of toast. Don’t touch my half.”
“I love you and won’t touch your food.” I cross my fingers behind my back. I’m starving. Callie scrambles out of my way as I practically charge the table. I receive a mild hiss of displeasure for making her move. I point to her food bowl which rests in the corner by the bathroom door along with her water dish. “Cat food.” I point at my plate. “Warrior food.”
An exaggerated huff escapes my mate. “How did you know the whistles were damaged?” This has bugged him since yesterday. After the Campbell incident, we returned to the citadel on the motorbikes. The engines were too loud for a long conversation. As soon as I stepped inside the citadel, one of the men reminded me of Ruth’s pending punishment. Apparently, she’s been up to her usual antics, and the entire citadel was living in fear. I took off for the gym, giving King no chance to question me. After two hours of the hell child, who could barely raise her arms, and her right-hand boy, Che, who she hoped would get her out of trouble, I was wiped out, and King put his foot down and forced me to bed. This has been driving him crazy, and I’ve looked forward to explaining.
Between stuffing my face with bacon, eggs, and toast, I reveal my thoughts about the whistles. “Knet and the Federation had a plan in place; it’s the only thing that made sense. Why did Knet leave now?” I take a drink of the best orange juice I’ve ever tasted. “Also, how could the Federation implement a plan against us while losing their eyes and ears on the island? Knet had help. Since Knet worked with the hellhounds, it made sense to use them against us.” I use toast to sop up more eggs, shovel the mixture into my mouth, and continue speaking after swallowing. “While I was meditating at our meeting, it occurred to me the only way to use hellhounds against us would be sabotaging the whistles. I broke it down from there.” At King’s questioning expression I continue. “You and I along with our guard have whistles we carry at all times. The other whistles are kept in strategic locations, making them easily accessible to everyone at the citadel. Our Warriors are better at killing hellhounds than directing them with whistles. The easiest solution for the Federation and Knet would be sabotaging the whistles for the most organizational disruption and casualties.”
“Hmm.”
King says “hmm” when he doesn’t quite know how to respond to me. He starts to ask another question then stops and runs his fingers through his braids pulling them to one side and looking back at his plate which is still piled with food. I refill my empty one because my stomach growls again. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my life. It must be Nova and it makes sense that it would take more fuel when I shift to that form. Someday, I’ll learn something helpful from the darn journals.
King looks up, confusion in his poor Warrior eyes. He doesn’t take change well. “Meditation?” he asks solemnly.
I give him back his own complicated expression. “Hmm.”
I finish the eggs and pop the last piece of bacon into my mouth. “We have a lot to do, but I want to see Nokita’s little submarine first.” King simply shakes his head in defeat. He’ll see what mediation will do for us once he allows different thinking to replace his natural stubbornness.
It’s an hour before we take the motorbikes to the shipyard. I’ve only been here once before, and it was just as creepy then as it is now. The old ships are decrepit piles of rusted steel that look like they should be resting at the bottom of the ocean instead of being secured to endless brown docks. The ships tower above us and bob slowly in the nearly black water, making weird creaking sounds that heighten the entire creep factor.
The first time I was here, I stupidly asked Nokita why the ocean water around the ships was black. His explanation made the shipyard even eerier. The black water surrounding the ships is death. When animals, humans, and plants die in the water, they absorb the nutrients and take them to the bottom when they sink. The water is black because death paid a visit and so far, the water has lost the war in returning itself blue.
I rub my arms as we walk the long deck between gargantuan ghost ships, searching for Nokita. “Over here,” he yells after we’ve walked at least a mile, though that might be an exaggeration. We locate him or more accurately, he locates us from a mid-sized enclosed bay where he’s working on what must be the smaller sub.
He sticks his head forward and outside the glass dome. “She’s almost ready.”
I peer at the dented chunk of metal that’s seen better days and then into the black water surrounding it. “How close?”
“Give me ten minutes and we’ll take her for a spin.”
Not happening.
Ten minutes later, I’m sitting inside a death bubble that Nokita explains can descend a thousand feet before hitting its collapse depth which would crush the entire sub and kill us. Wasn’t it me who said this wasn’t happening? After working for years in a small cubicle, I’ve decided I don’t like tight spaces, especially when they are surrounded by black death.
“You okay, baby?” King whispers.
“Swell, baby,” I reply without taking my eyes off the dark nothingness in front of us. I have a feeling if the water cleared, I would be able to say, “I see dead people.” I really don’t want to see half-eaten dead people who have been decaying in the water for years. As a matter of fact, I really don’t want to be here at all.
“Queen.”
He knows that irritates me, and I give him a stern side-eye as a reminder.
His lips quirk and I realize he’s trying to take my mind off the bubble of death. Like that’s gonna happen.
“Ready to launch?” asks a very chipper Nokita after he flips several switches on the control panel in front of him. When working on planes, he’s a pilot. When on a sub, he’s the skipper or whatever you call them. His vernacular is that of a man who lives and breathes engines. He’s multi-functional when it comes to anything mechanical. King once told me that Nokita started fixing tractor engines when he was young because he hated working the farm fields with his father. By the age of twelve, Nokita had a thriving farm mechanical business going.
“Have you ever manned one of these things?” I ask and immediately wish I hadn’t.
Nokita turns in his seat and reads the fear in my eyes. “Never,” he says in glee without hiding it.
He and King set me up. I’m finally doing the leadership thing, and now they’re taking me out into deep black water filled with countless body muck to do away with me. I’ll become part of the muck, and no one will remember who I am. Even Ruth will ask, “Marinah who?”
The near silent hum tells me the engine might be working now. The quietness surprises me. I mostly hear small paddles spinning in the murk beneath us. Nokita guides us clear of the bay and backs up farther before going forward.
“Once we’re out of the yard, this baby can travel up to four knots.”
Yippy. I bet I can tie four knots in my boot faster than this thing can move. If I thought the water was horrific from above, I was wrong. This goes far past creepy.
The sub’s light makes it worse. Moss hangs from steel cables attached to the ships and rises from the water in floating slimy ropes of ick. The rusted metal is chipped away in places, and I wonder again why the ships don’t spring leaks and sink to the bottom.
Nokita takes us farther down and turns the sub’s front lights a smidgen brighter. This enables me to see the ocean floor. A military boot sticks up from a grave of nothingness. A pot here, a rifle there. It takes me a moment to decipher my next discovery. Skulls. They’re resting in silt at different angles, and it’s not until I identify the cavernous eye sockets that I understand what I’m looking at.
When King arrived at the island, its population was nearly decimated and the remaining people in hiding. Cuban’s continued fighting hellhounds long after their government ceased operating. What was left was a rag tag group struggling to provide food and medical supplies to stay alive. Don’t get me wrong, those who survived did so because of their strength and tenacity. I’m looking at the evidence of the valiant fight that kept them alive and it’s chilling.
Nokita changes course navigating into open water and we finally leave the shipyard behind. He talks incessantly about Baby Boot’s latest antics which takes my mind off the fact we’re below the water’s surface and I’m at the mercy of oxygen, carbon dioxide, and spit. Nokita stops talking mid-sentence, and the interior of the sub goes deathly quiet. We don’t even breathe for several seconds. Our feeble brains have trouble computing what we see.
“Those are not what I think they are. Are they?” Nokita finally asks. His masculine voice went up an octave.
For as far as the sub lights shines, hellhounds are attached to weights and float approximately ten feet off the ocean floor, wreathing in their dance of claws, fangs, and death.
“There are thousands,” King thunders in the small confines of the sub, his voice filled with horror.
“Tens of thousands,” I say in shock. “We need to go back to shore.” Urgency fills my very bones. Even the hairs on the back of my neck try to hide.
Ignoring me, King asks, “Can you see the red blinking lights coming from the weights the hellhounds are attached to? Take us closer.”
Nokita’s hand goes to the steering lever.
“Don’t take us closer,” I order. Even I know my fear is ridiculous. The hellhounds can’t hurt us, the sub will not fill with water, my Doc Martens will not get wet.
King gives me his version of the side-eye that includes a slight tilting of his lips. “Scared, baby?”
“I hate you.” I close my eyes and dismantle Bertha in my mind. Once I’ve settled myself, I breathe out, “Take us closer,” and open my eyes.
We glide over hellhounds. They extend their arms, trying to grasp the sub. A claw scrapes along one of the metal air tanks. It reminds me of chalk squeaking on a chalkboard and does nothing to calm my nerves.
When Nokita moves the sub farther down, we can see the electronic devices with a red blinking light attached to each weight.
“They’re going to release the hellhounds electronically,” I say. “This is why they sabotaged the whistles.” Rage boils inside me and K-5 spikes. I inhale sharply and hold Ms. Beast back. She’s angry and I can’t catch my breath. It feels like she’s taking a sledgehammer to my gut.
“Marinah,” King’s voice floats into my consciousness while his warm hand skims across the cold flesh on my arm. I swat him away like an irritating fly. Ms. Beast growls inside me. She’s pacing the confines of her barless cage. The shadow behind her has a pulse and it grows louder until the familiar vibration inside me speaks.
Protect, whispers Ms. Beast.
“Marinah.” It’s louder this time and I open my eyes. Things become clearer after blinking a few times. Awareness sinks in and my surroundings stabilize somewhat. I’m leaning against the cold inner wall of the bubble, King’s warm hand wrapped around mine. If there was room to maneuver, I would be in his lap.
“What happened?” I ask as the fog lifts a little more.
“Your K-5 spiked and almost had us shifting, then you passed out,” King murmurs, leaning over me and searching my eyes for who knows what.
“I’m fine. Beast was trying to tell me something.” If we shifted, the bubble would break, and water would have poured inside. This is not a death I’m comfortable with.
“You blacked out and slumped to the side. It’s not fine. Get us back to shore,” King orders Nokita.
I don’t bother playing the queen card. When King goes into protective mode, he’s a brick wall with no give. “Something upset Ms. Beast. I’m worried it’s Nova,” I say instead of arguing. I glance at my mate and grimace at his concerned expression. “I think I have multiple personality disorder.”
Chapter Fifteen
King
We leave Marinah’s motorbike at the shipyard. She rides behind me with my one arm holding her in place while my other steers the motorcycle. Her skin was pasty white after the strange incident on the sub, but she appears okay now. I’m worried she’ll pass out again and I may not be able to grab her. I should have called Beck to pick us up. By the time we reach the citadel, she tells me she’s fine, the universal women’s code for leave me alone. She stomps grumpily to our room at my order. She actually growls when I try to force her into the shower. I give her a growl back, pick her up. and deposit her inside the tub.
“You can turn the water on, or I will,” I tell her, setting to my jaw stubbornly. “Ice-cold might improve your mood.” Shadow Warriors hate the cold.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, reaching for the nozzles. “Tell our guard we’re meeting in thirty minutes.”
“Your guard,” I snap.
Her brown eyes go a tad darker. “You’re pushing your luck, mate, and you know it. They’re our guard,” she insists stubbornly.
“Keep dreaming,” I tell her and leave the room. I close the door softly because if it were her, she would slam it. Sometim
es when dealing with my mate, satisfaction comes in quiet moments.
Informing her guard is as easy as locating Beck and telling him to do it. The person I want is Axel and I find him in his quarters. He glances up from a book he’s reading at his desk when I stomp in without knocking.
His room is one door down from the infirmary, so Axel is near at all times. He takes his position as our doctor seriously. He’s expanded the infirmary and turned it into a well-functioning hospital complete with maternity ward that handles the island women. Maylin, Nokita’s mate, does a lot of our nurse outreach, while Garret, Axel’s significant other, is helping with everything from surgery to baby delivery.
He leans back in his chair and rubs his eyes. “I take it this is not a friendly visit.”
“Marinah called a meeting in twenty-five minutes, main conference room.” Without stopping for a breath, I continue. “She passed out or had a seizure or a hallucination or something.”
Axel rubs the bridge of his nose this time. “Was she attacked, injured, hungry maybe?”
I start pacing. “No. K-5 spiked and she slumped over. She was out for maybe a minute or two. The spike was stronger than my Beast has ever thrown at me, and Nokita and I almost shifted.”
“Had she eaten recently? Her transition to Nova requires energy.”
“Two pounds of bacon, a dozen eggs, and half a loaf of bread,” I say, recounting her morning meal.
Axel’s eyebrows go up. It’s a lot of food even for her.
“Has she shifted to Nova in the last few days?” he questions.
“Yesterday. She did it without going into Beast form first. She also had more control and spoke in understandable sentences.”
“Take a seat,” Axel says and points in the direction of a corner chair. He turns so he’s facing me once I’m seated. “We know practically nothing about Nova Warriors. What we do know we’ve learned from Marinah.”
That means we know practically nothing. “Our histories talk about them,” I say slightly defensively.
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