I let out a long and blissful sigh. How did he know I’ve never seen the sun?
“It’s—it’s so . . . Thank you. I’ve never seen anything like it.” I can’t find the right words.
How do you describe magic? You can’t. Sometimes . . . just sometimes, words aren’t enough. Some things are beyond verbal language.
Ari turns to face me, hesitant. I meet his gaze. His own softens as he watches me intently. My mouth curves into a small smile. His eyes flash the fieriest honey gold.
Yes, he’s rude, and aloof, and annoying—and most definitely keeps trying to steal Jojo away from me, but he’s also . . . Again, I can’t find the right words. I reach into my pocket.
He gazes at the golden parchment figure in the palm of my hand. A seahorse.
“I like to make them. Erm, here.” I hold my hand out to him. “It’s for you. Thank you. For helping Jojo and me.”
He hesitates and swallows, before taking the paper model. He turns it over in his hands and looks back at me. His chest rises and falls as he stares. The gentlest warmth surfaces in the amber depths of his gaze as he holds my own.
Oscar appears in front of me and I jump. The Navigator opens his mouth to speak, when Ari suddenly stiffens, his eyes widening and his face turning thunderous.
He launches himself at Oscar.
What the—
Ari leaps straight through the Navigator and grabs me, pulling me down. He crouches over me. I shake. Jojo leaps around, growling and barking.
“Don’t look,” he implores, his tone urgent. “You mustn’t look outside the window.”
Oscar still speaks, but I can’t make out his words. My mind races.
There’s only one thing he’d not want me to know is out there.
I duck under his arm and glance up. Nothing. Not even the jellyfish. He saw something, though. Ari realizes I’m looking out and tugs at my shoulder to turn me away from the view. I swing my head over to the right.
I can’t scream. I open my mouth and try, but no sound comes out.
It snarls. A predatory expression rages in its eyes as it meets my gaze. Its hair fans out around its face, the mouth open, allowing the water to freely enter.
An Anthropoid.
It stretches through the water toward us, pounding on the window. It jerks its head back and then, with startling velocity, bolts out of sight.
“Ari.” The whisper barely leaves my lips.
He hears, holding me as I curl up on the ground. I can’t breathe. He turns my face toward his, gently gripping my shoulders, telling me to take deep breaths. I shake my head. Every part of my body trembles. My heartbeat lashes away in my ears.
An Anthropoid. Looking deceptively human, except it’s an abomination.
His eyes implore me to focus. “You’re safe,” he insists. “He can’t enter the sub.”
What are those rasping sounds? It’s me.
I stare at him. “But it’s one of them. They’re beyond cunning. What are we going to do?”
We’re still staring at each other trying to work it out, when we both sense an ominous change and our heads whip around to the viewport.
The Kabul has slowed.
Ari’s hands fall away from my face; he grabs my hand, helps me up, and we run out of the room, calling for Jojo to follow.
Oscar repeats what he’s been saying since he appeared. “My dear lady, there has been an Anthropoid sighting in the vicinity of the vessel.”
Then:
“There appears to have been a security breach.”
Ari glances back at me in the passageway. “The moon pool, did you secure it? I didn’t have command rights at the time. Did you lock the door?”
My eyes widen. “Oh my God. Deathstar, the mechanic, he—he told me to secure it. I totally forgot! Oscar, is the moon pool door still unlocked? Are you able to secure it?” I pause, leaning against the wall, breathing fast. It’s too hot, and my pulse hammers away. How could I have forgotten to take care of it? What have I done?
Oscar nods. “Why, of course, my lady. May I mention how this submarine has been fitted with the very latest in remote security applications? Why, one could—”
“Please lock the pool access door this instant, Oscar!”
“As you wish.” The Navigator bows. “The door is now locked.”
“And why have we slowed down?”
“The propeller. There appears to be something wrong with it, my dear. While it is still functioning, its thrust has noticeably decreased.”
“Oscar, if it slows down any more, let me know, and try to find out more about what exactly is wrong with it. And you can check for heartbeats on board, right? Run a scan.”
The Navigator tilts his head. “I detect a total of five heartbeats on board. Two without clearance.”
Oh my God. I stumble back and Ari helps. Two. Two of them. On board the submarine right now. The passageway is closing in. I shake my head.
A noise sounds from somewhere below.
Ari turns to me. “Stay up here.” His eyes beg me not to argue. “Remain locked in until I say it’s safe.”
“No.”
He swears, shaking his head. He grabs the knife kept around his waist and holds it out front.
“Oscar,” I whisper. “Is it possible to pinpoint the exact location of the unregistered heartbeats on board?”
He tilts his head to confirm. “Both unapproved guests are in the engine room, my dear.”
Ari’s expression darkens. “Lock yourself in the saloon with Jojo. Take this.” He thrusts the knife in my direction. “I have other weapons.”
“Keep the knife. I have my brolly. How are you going to fight them all by yourself? It’s impossible—”
“You must go! Please.”
I head back to the saloon, locking the door as he approaches the staircase. My whole body trembles now. Jojo whines, burrowing her nose into me.
“It—it’s all right, baby. It’s going to be okay, you’ll see.”
My throat aches, as if a large stone has lodged itself there. I grab the brolly. A crashing sound makes me jump. I run to the door, putting my ear against it. What’s going on? I beckon the Navigator for an update.
“My dear, there are three heartbeats in the engine room now. Two are unregistered, and the third is that of the gentleman, Ari.”
I should’ve stayed with him. Nobody can survive two Anthropoids at once. I unlock the door and inch it ajar, holding the brolly out in front of me. It won’t stay still; my hand shakes too much and the noises aren’t helping. Angry, muffled exchanges, followed by shouting.
I edge along the passageway, forcing one leg in front of the other. Jojo insists on following me and no amount of silent gesturing will get her to return to the saloon. Indistinct sounds carry up from the lower level. I creep down the stairs.
Finally I can make out the words and I jolt.
“And what about our dead?” one of them shrieks.
More muffled sounds—Ari.
A female voice shouts, “You are wrong! They will be avenged!”
Then loud thumping and clanging, followed by groans and cries. Oh God . . .
I move along the passageway, willing the quivering in my legs to cease. No luck. I can’t get all the footage, all the horrific images I’ve ever watched on the news, out of my head. The indiscriminate slaughter this species has carried out.