Page 10 of Heart of the Deep

Dracchus released his hold on the hull as the men on the other boat fired. Two heavy thumps marked the impact of projectiles on the wood just before Dracchus hit the water. He darted toward Vasil and Neo; all he could do for Brexes and Garon now was hope they’d reacted quickly enough.

Projectiles hit the water around him. He ignored them and pressed forward, aiming for the blotch of crimson ahead — Neo, his color reflecting his fury.

Another gunshot sounded behind Dracchus.

Vasil pushed away from the boat sluggishly. Neo followed, shaking his head sharply. A projectile was embedded in his shoulder, gleaming in the weak moonlight.

The men on the boat behind the pair raised a bulky gun. It went off with apop, and a torrent of bubbles obscured Vasil and Neo.

The thrashing of the two kraken weakened quickly, and as the water cleared, Dracchus realized what had happened — the large gun had fired a net around Vasil and Neo, and their struggles had only entangled them further.

Dracchus dismissed conscious thought, giving over to instinct. The humans on the boat were the primary threat. Increasing his speed, he swam past his companions and surged up, leaping above the surface.

The humans along the rail stumbled back. Dracchus couldn’t tell if they were moved by surprise or fear; their eyes were covered by strange devices made of plastic or glass.

He latched onto the side of the boat before the humans could react beyond their reflexive retreat and lashed out with arms and tentacles. Catching hold of limbs and clothing, he wrenched all four humans toward him. Their lower bodies struck the wood railing, levering their upper bodies over the top. Dracchus released his hold quickly, allowing all four to plunge into the water with flailing limbs and startled cries.

The pair of humans remaining on the boat stared at him with large eyes but remained frozen in place — one at the rear, and one at the wind-cloth pole.

Dracchus twisted to look at the large boat.

More humans with guns lined the siderail, but his attention was drawn immediately to one. A female. Even in the muted moonlight, her hair, woven into a thick cord, was a vibrant red. She wore a device over her eyes, too, and her full lips betrayed no emotion.

The other humans fired, their shots hitting the hull of the boat and the water around Dracchus.

The red-haired female’s gun flashed with a hollow bang.

Piercing pain erupted on Dracchus’s neck. He reached up, grasped the tube-like projectile, and tugged it out of his throat. Only the tip, a thin, glistening needle, had penetrated. He dropped it into the sea.

Drawing back the bolt of her gun with practiced ease, the female loaded another projectile.

Dracchus pushed off the boat and rushed toward his companions, ignoring the four humans frantically swimming toward their vessel. A tingling sensation radiated from his neck, creeping through his shoulder and along his arms, numbing his face. He shook his head, but the numbness did not diminish.

The net was attached to the small boat by a thick rope. He grasped the tether with a hand and a tentacle, pulling it taut, and raised his claws to it. His fingers moved sluggishly, refusing to bend fully.

Another hollow bang, and something impacted his right shoulder. He felt pressure, but no pain.

His vision blurred, and his unresponsive fingers slipped off the rope. Blinking, he swung his gaze to his companions. Their struggles had ceased.

Had they been poisoned?

A fire ignited in Dracchus’s gut. He turned toward the large boat and roared, forcing all his strength, all his will, into a headlong charge toward the red-haired female.

She didn’t flinch. Her gun boomed.

A heavy blow forced the air from Dracchus’s lungs, and darkness claimed him.

Larkin tore off her goggles and stared, wide-eyed, as the creature collapsed in the dark water. Her heart pounded, and she had to force her ragged breaths through a dry, constricted throat.

She’d hunted animals of all sizes, had faced down beasts that could topple trees when they charged, had stalked predators so quiet that they could only be heard in the space between breaths. She’d almost lost her life on many occasions.

But she’d never hunted anything that was intelligent enough to prioritize its actions, had never hunted anything that looked at her with such intelligent, focused rage.

Shouts rose around her, and boots thumped on the deck. A net gun fired with a low pop. The net wrapped around the dark form in the water, but even that didn’t ease her; it had taken three tranquilizers to stop the creature, and they’d balanced the dosage to make each dart strong enough to knock out several full-grown men.

Larkin lowered her rifle, resting its barrel on the railing to still the tremors in her arms.

“The other two escaped, commander,” one of the rangers called over the other voices. “Got out of scanner range.”

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