Page 103 of Heart of the Deep

Neo turned the corner at the head of a pack. At least eight kraken followed him in a tight cluster, too tightly packed for him to count. All displayed crimson skin.

Dracchus met Neo’s eyes as the banished kraken halted.

The air, normally clean and comfortable, grew thick and oppressive, charged with palpable, electric tension. Both groups stared at one another in silence. Were they frozen by the weight of the moment? By what was to come? Frozen by fear, or hatred, or both?

A few of Neo’s bunch held harpoon guns. Several more wielded spears. They were only six doors away. Larkin had said the doors were each four meters apart; it was not much distance for a kraken to cross.

“You may leave now with your lives,” Dracchus called. He spread his tentacles slightly wider, mindful of the humans behind him as he coiled his muscles like springs, ready for the fight.

Neo wasted no breath on a response. As one, he and his followers charged.

Gunfire deafened Dracchus. He felt the heat of the rifles on his sides, felt the air displaced by the screaming projectiles, and the vibrations of the small explosions pulsed across his skin. Flashing lights came on along the corridor, accompanied by a loud, blaring sound.

“Firearms discharged in Cabins Hall C,” the Computer announced loudly. “All active security personnel be advised, firearms discharged…”

Crimson-skinned kraken reeled in pain, their blood splattering the walls and floor — just as human blood had, more than three hundred years ago. Only two attackers fell.

The thump of harpoon guns blasted down the corridor, and long missiles shimmered under the overhead lights as they sped toward Dracchus’s group.

Dracchus batted one aside with his spear. Another hit the floor and slid behind their line, clattering into the wall before it lost momentum.

The third hit someone to Dracchus’s right; a pained grunt was the only sound marking the impact, too indistinct for him to know if it had been Arkon or Jax.

Another burst of gunfire dropped two more kraken.

Dracchus ran his gaze over his enemies. He knew all their faces, all their names, but they were so far gone to rage that he couldn’t put any of them together. The only certainty was that these were too few to account for all the kraken who’d been banished, even with four of them down. The others either hadn’t come or were approaching from another direction.

The computer continued repeating its warnings. “All non-security personnel, please remain where you are or seek shelter in the nearest lockable room, as detailed in this facility’s emergency procedures. This is not a drill. Firearms discharged in Cabins…”

“Jax!” Dracchus shouted. He could barely hear himself over the cacophony. “Take Randall and Rhea, guard our flank!”

Jax nodded and fell back, granting Dracchus a brief glimpse of the large gash on his arm.

Dracchus, Arkon, and Kronus broadened their stances to cover some of the newly opened space as the first of Neo’s group crashed into the line.

Crimson limbs thrashed and flailed in a frenzy. Claws tore Dracchus’s skin, a spear sliced across his ribs, and he was hammered by tentacles and fists. The crimson-skinned attackers were attempting to scramble over him.

They mean to strike the humans first.

To strike my mate.

Roaring, Dracchus lowered his shoulder and heaved, shoving the foremost attackers backward. Arkon and Kronus thrust their spears into the stumbling kraken, but it didn’t halt the next charge. One of the attackers leapt high.

Dracchus jabbed his spear up with one hand, burying it in the kraken’s shoulder. He extended his other arm simultaneously, closing his free hand around his foe’s throat. Dracchus swayed backward with the kraken’s momentum.

Garon, he realized. This was Garon, his face contorted in uncontrollable fury.

A similar rage blazed fully to life inside Dracchus. He’d grown to adulthood with many of these kraken, had hunted with them. And all that had ceased to matter.

A pistol appeared in Dracchus’s peripheral vision, barrel angled upward. The slender fingers gripping it were familiar to him.

Larkin squeezed the trigger. The projectile entered Garon’s skull between his eyes. The body jerked once and went still.

Dracchus tore his spear free and hurled the carcass toward its fellows. The aggressors were no longer kraken. They were wild beasts, no better than razorbacks in kraken skin, and they were threatening Dracchus’s people.

The body hit two of the attackers, knocking them backward, and Dracchus charged into the gap.

He thrust the head of his spear into one kraken’s chest, planting it deep. Clutching the shaft with both hands, he swung, slamming the kraken into one of the other crimson-skinned monsters. Claws and blades raked his skin, but he was beyond pain.

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