Page 29 of Guarded By the Vodnik

Vodyan

I strapped my gun on while the cylindrical space of the lock filled with water. My jaw was clenched, my tentacles vibrating with tension. Two cameras were already smashed, and who knew how many would be destroyed before I came out.

But regardless of how many would remain, this place was burned. And it was all my fault. They finally had enough and came after me, and now Zoe was at risk.

The lock filled completely, and I pulled in air through my gills, turning the wheel to open the door. I shot out, slamming it shut behind me so no one would go in and attack Zoe. She was safe inside, behind multiple locking mechanisms, and if anything happened to me, she would send a distress signal that alerted the MSA directly.

The knowledge she would be fine even if I wasn’t kept my worry at bay, giving space to more primal emotions. When the first grinning lamia lunged at me with a shriek, I attacked him with all my pent-up fury and frustration.

Today, I didn’t care about my vendetta. They would all die, and it didn’t matter that it was more merciful to kill them than to cut off pieces they would mourn for decades to come. Something had shifted in the last three weeks, and my priorities changed.

Every lamia I took out for good was one less threat to Zoe.

“You’ll never… argh!” He broke off with a choking gurgle.

I wrapped my tentacles around his head, squeezing tighter and tighter with rage. His tail thrashed, his claws dragging down my scales, but it took only a few more seconds for his skull to burst under pressure like one of Zoe’s canned peaches.

He went limp, and I pushed him away just as his companion wrapped his tail around my throat from behind.

In my entire life, I saw lamias band together less than a dozen times—the first one when they killed my mother. They were solitary predators and needed a very powerful stimulus to be forced to hunt together. I’d finally pissed them off enough to join forces.

Red scales flashed in my periphery when I reached for my jet gun, not caring about my long streak of defeating lamias without a gun. I wasn’t taking any chances today.

The lamia’s mutilated tail tightened around my throat until my body heaved from the pressure. I aimed over my shoulder and shot blindly.

The jet gun had a powerful engine that sucked in water, turning it into an intense current. Aimed right, for example at the eyes, it could kill.

But I didn’t hit the lamia’s eyes. He pulled me sharply when the jet threw him back, but the pain did the work, and the lamia untangled his tail to pull away and avoid another shot.

The only disadvantage of jet guns was that they were a bit slower than land bullet guns. Water offered more resistance than air, and the jets I shot were very conspicuous, cutting through the water in a straight line.

When I shot, the lamia ducked away, but he didn’t run. Hidden behind a large rock, he laughed with confidence.

“It’s no use!” he called out, gloating. “We know you have some precioussss cargo. There are buyersssss.”

What? So it wasn't about me. They were here for Zoe.

Anger and fear shot through me. I sent another jet in his direction. He ducked behind his cover, so I stopped for a second, dropping my aim, and hit the rock. The jet was powerful enough to push it, making the lamia scream in surprise.

“Come out, coward,” I gritted out. “Tell me more about those buyers.”

He could be talking about shanta. After all, that was what he tried to steal the first time we met. And yet, a horrible, gut-twisting fear told me it wasn’t about that.

“The human is worth millions!” the lamia said with an ugly laugh.

Cold crept down my spine as I stalked closer, my gun raised. I was ready the moment I saw him shoot out from behind the rock. I sent a shot in his direction, getting the side of his tail. It knocked him off course until he went sprawling on the bottom, his fall raising a cloud of silt.

I pushed away from the bottom and was on him with one powerful burst of speed. When he rose, I tackled him until he was immobilized. I wrapped my tentacles around his tail and arms, leaving only one thing free—his head so he could talk.

“How did you like the nice little trim I gave you?” I asked, fury spilling out. I grinned, delighted because I had him in check. “You know what I’ll do? I’ll keep shooting you until you tell me everything I want.”

He growled, but the sound broke when I tightened my hold. Something snapped, and he whimpered.

“Or I could keep breaking you. We’ll see.”

“Others know, too!” he screeched, squirming helplessly in my hold. “They are coming!”

“See?” I said through a rabid grin. “That wasn’t hard. How many?”

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