Chapter 61 First
The iron walls of the stateroom were sweating. Cold, salt-heavy condensation trickled down the rivets, pooling in the grooves of the floorboards like tears. I sat on the edge of the cot, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. Every time the Obsidian Star surged forward, the vibration rattled my teeth and sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through my stomach.
I could feel them.
It wasn’t something I heard with my ears. It was a pressure in my jaw, a humming in the marrow of my bones. My people were near. They were below us, moving through the kelp forests and the silent, shadowed valleys of the continental shelf. They were a part of the water, and I was a splinter of iron cutting through it.
The door groaned open.
Klaus stepped in, his silhouette tall and jagged against the dim amber light of the corridor. He didn't look like the man who had sat by my bed reading poetry. He looked like the Admiral who had mapped out the death of my kingdom. He was in full combat gear—black leather reinforced with silver plates, a heavy cloak pinned at his shoulders with a brooch shaped like a screaming kraken.
"We’ve reached the outer shelf," he said. His voice was flat, stripped of everything but the mission.
"I can feel them, Klaus," I said, my voice sounding like dry husks rubbing together. I stood up, and the world tilted. The black lines on my arms throbbed, a hot, rhythmic pulsing that made me want to claw at my own skin. "They’re guarding the pass. If you keep going, you’re going to run them down."
"They are already running," Klaus said, walking toward the desk. He didn't look at me. He looked at the map. "My scouts report a retreat toward the Abyssal Gates. They’re clustering, Nerissa. They’re making a stand at the one place the Empire can’t afford to lose."
"Because you're hunting them!" I shouted. The effort brought on a racking, wet cough. I pressed my palm to my mouth, and when I pulled it away, the black fluid was thick and shimmering, smelling of stagnant tide pools. "You brought a thousand ships to their front door. What do you expect them to do? Sing you a welcome?"
Klaus turned, his sapphire eyes flashing with a sharp, jagged light. He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my shoulders. His touch was iron.
"I told you," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "If I don't reach those Gates first, the Emperor’s secondary fleet will arrive. They don't have a 'Voice' to soothe the transition. They have depth charges. They have incendiary oil that burns even under the waves. They will boil your home to get to the source."
"And you're any better?" I spat, looking at the silver plates on his chest. "You're just the one who wants to harvest the crop before it burns. You're still a butcher, Klaus. You just prefer a cleaner floor."
Klaus’s grip tightened. I saw the muscle in his jaw jump. For a second, I thought he would shake me, or throw me back onto the cot. Instead, he let go, his hands falling to his sides as if I had burned him.
"The first line of defense is ahead," he said, turning back to the door. "Sub-surface nets. Enchanted glass. Your people have been busy."
"Good," I whispered. "I hope they sink you."
A heavy, muffled thump rocked the ship. It wasn't the engine. It was an impact from the outside. The
Obsidian Star groaned, a sound of metal being shorn, and the floor tilted sharply to the port side.
"Admiral!" a voice roared from the hallway. "The hull! They’ve launched the obsidian spikes! We’re taking on water in the lower hold!"
Klaus didn't look at me again. He turned and ran out of the cabin, his boots a thunderous rhythm on the iron.
I didn't wait. I didn't care about the locks or the orders. I scrambled after him, my charcoal silk skirts catching on the doorframe as I burst into the corridor. The air here was thick with the scent of ozone and the sharp, coppery tang of the coolant pipes.
I made it to the upper deck.
The world was a chaos of grey and black. The sky was a bruised charcoal, and the sea was a roiling, angry mess of white foam and dark shadows. All around us, the other ships of the Vampire Navy were struggling. I saw one of the smaller frigates lurch as a massive, obsidian-tipped spear burst through its hull from below, sending splinters of iron and bone flying into the air.
"Nerissa, get down!" Klaus’s voice boomed over the wind.