The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us #1)(5)

“We need to make it to our first island by tomorrow evening. If we slow the ship any more, we’ll be putting this whole voyage drastically behind schedule.”

My face flushes, and I find myself stammering for my next words. No Reckoner should be a burden to her companion ship. “Sir, I’m sorry,” I manage. “But something’s wrong. I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m severely concerned for Durga’s health.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen anything like this?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been talking to my pa—the other trainers on the uplink, and they don’t have any theories. As far as we know, nothing like this has happened to a Reckoner before.” The last time I spoke to my mother, we’d both been crying. Me from concern for Durga and her from the frustration of being unable to figure out why one of her monsters has suddenly fallen ill.

From somewhere behind us, a keening groan rings out. Durga rarely vocalizes, but today she’s been making all sorts of noises.

Captain Carriel runs a hand over his beard, his eyes darkening. “Give it one more night. We’ll drop anchor for her scheduled rest, and in the morning we’ll make a judgment call.”

I don’t know what that kind of call would entail, but I nod along. The captain claps me on the shoulder, steers me out the door, and leaves me in the hall, stewing in the ever-present smell of rotted flesh.

That night, I can’t sleep.

The next morning, the entire ship awakens before dawn to Durga’s unearthly screams.





3


I spring out of bed and struggle into my wetsuit as fast as I can. My heart aches inside my chest as I sprint for the trainer deck. I’ve been hearing Reckoner noises all my life, but never like this. This isn’t a groan of discomfort, a roar of fury. No, this is a shriek of pure agony.

I burst onto the trainer deck and snap on the LED beacon. It flashes her homing signal into the dark, and immediately she surfaces, her shadow looming against the glow on the horizon. I grab a spotlight and shine it on her as she approaches.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake me, and I have to fight to keep the spotlight pointed at her as she draws near.

Durga is bleeding all over. The sickening stench of her blood washes over me as if it clots the air. Sores dot her back, some of them burst and ragged-looking, and I realize with a jolt that several of her keratin plates have fallen off. She groans again, the noise causing the deck underneath me to shudder, and I watch, horrified, as the plate protecting the top of her head slides forward, pulling free with a meaty snap. It plunges into the NeoPacific, sending up a spray of salty, gory water in its wake.

I know I should call Mom and Dad immediately, but I can’t leave her side when she’s like this. “It’s gonna be okay, girl,” I call out to her. It’s a lie.

“Miss Leung!” A deckhand stumbles out onto the trainer deck, his uniform askew. “Carriel wants to know what’s going on.”

My lips struggle to find words that aren’t there. Nothing in my training has prepared me for this. This voyage was supposed to be effortless. Easy. And now Durga is dying, and I can’t do anything to stop it. “I … ” I start, but can’t finish. She’s hurting so much. The water that surrounds her is clouded with blood, and I don’t have the tools to put her out of her misery.

The ship’s all-call crackles on. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Captain Carriel says, a slight tremor in his gravely voice.

No.

“Our radar has picked up a pirate vessel heading our way.”

Not now.

“We ask that you please stay calm and remain inside your cabins until an all-clear is given. Locks will be engaging on the doors in five minutes.”

Any time but now.

“In the meantime, the ship’s companion will see to the threat.”

A chill starts at the base of my spine and works its way up until I feel like my brain’s been plunged into ice water. Durga can’t fight. Not like this. I spin, running my hands through my hair as I scan the trainer deck for something, anything to end her suffering. But Reckoners were made to be nigh impossible to kill, and there’s no humane way of ending the life of a beast this size.

I’m suddenly acutely aware of the pill in the collar of my wetsuit.

When I turn back to Durga, they’re on the horizon.

The boat comes screaming in from the East, the rising sun at its back as it swings wide around the Nereid. It carves the water like a butcher’s knife and looks like it’s been cobbled together from bits of yachts and warships, the unholy bastard of some pirate colony junkyard. Its upper decks bristle with weaponry.

I’ve let everyone on this boat down. Without Durga, we’re dead in the water against this sort of artillery. We’ll be boarded, looted, and killed, and it’s all my fault.

Which is what I’m still stuck on when Durga wheels, swinging her snout toward the pirate ship. Her blowholes flare, her tail thrashes, and she launches herself toward the boat, the sea churning around her.

Shit.

She’s not strong enough to do this, but she also can’t suppress the instinct ingrained in her. Durga is bonded to the Nereid. Reckoner imprinting behavior ties them to their companion ships, and she’ll fight to the death to protect hers. But in her condition, there’s no way she’ll succeed. She’s already dying. It’ll only be more painful if the pirates have a say in it.