Chapter 2
Zoe
I stood on the shore of Lake Superior with Agent Narita while Agent Beck got the motorboat ready. It was September, and it was wickedly cold. Despite the thick jacket covering my slick, black suit, I shivered, my teeth chattering, as I took in the turbulent lake stretching far into the distance.
It looked more like the sea than a lake. A vast, violent body of water that frothed and crashed loudly against the cliffs curving up on the left. The lake was the color of lead, dark and uninviting.
“Can you r-remind me why we’re d-doing this?” I asked Agent Narita, who was a slim, lithe woman in her forties.
Her black hair was cut short and swept back, and she didn’t look cold at all. I envied her composure. When she replied, her voice sounded strong, not even wavering in the freezing wind.
“Because even though Matthias Carver is in prison, most of his people are at large. Two key witnesses have already been brutally murdered, and you are the last one,” she answered calmly, looking ahead with keen eyes. “We don’t want that to happen to you. You’ll be safe here, because no one in their right mind will suspect we hid you underwater.”
With that, she was right. Though no one in their right mind would call the depths of Lake Superior safe , either.
A particularly large wave crashed against the cliff, making me wince. Clammy sweat covered my body under the tight suit, and I shivered harder. My gloved hands were jittery, even though I hadn’t had coffee that morning, too wired and anxious to add caffeine to the mix. I only forced down an egg and some cherry tomatoes, the food weighing down my already heavy stomach.
“I read there are sentient water snakes down there,” I said, my voice growing hoarse. “They are huge. And carnivorous.”
I knew it was futile and childish to argue at this point. I had agreed to this plan, but then it sounded so much more reasonable when discussed in a warm, well-lit safehouse.
Now, facing the tumultuous mass of freezing water beating against the shore, I felt small and helpless. And I would be, essentially, even though I had state-of-the-art gear at my disposal.
My suit was supposed to keep me warm in the freezing lake, and my oxygen tank only required emerging every twelve hours to replenish. I was promised a dry safehouse on the lake bottom, where I would spend most of my time.
And a bodyguard who’d protect me. A vodnik.
“Vodyan will keep you safe,” Agent Narita said with confidence. “There is nothing to be afraid of, Zoe.”
I shivered harder, this time not from the cold. As soon as I found out who’d guard me, I spent a few hours googling vodniks on my secure phone, and what I found out inspired both confidence and dread.
They were strong, deadly, and kept to themselves, mostly living in large communities in the Great Lakes. Even though vodniks thrived both in water and on land, they preferred to stick to their cities, where they also built dry spaces under water. They were talented builders and a wealthy nation due to their shanta production.
They were also magnificent. And terrifying.
If one stretched an adult male vodnik in a straight line, he’d measure almost ten feet from the top of his head to the tips of his tentacles. Most of that length was in the tentacles, which were usually loosely coiled, hiding some of that size.
And still, vodniks were enormous. I saw a chart comparing an average vodnik’s height to a banana, a human, a shehru, a bear, and a tree. I already knew my bodyguard would tower over me.
Vodniks were covered in green, blue, or purple scales that looked hard and jagged in places. They seemed sharp enough to cut if touched.
Their faces looked vaguely humanoid, and yet not. Their eyes were deep-set and narrow, noses flat, cheekbones sharp, and their heads were decorated with symmetrical spiky protrusions. They wouldn’t look any less approachable if they wore red signs reading “DO NOT TOUCH”.
And even though their arms were a humanoid feature, they were also unsettling. Muscular and thick, scaly, and ending in large, claw-tipped palms, they seemed made for strangling and ripping things out.
And then, there were the tentacles. I actively tried not to think about them. If I did, my stomach squeezed with something that was partly revulsion, partly a hot, squirmy feeling that I didn’t dare analyze.
Another thing I purposefully ignored was the nudity. Since vodniks reproduced like mammals, their females had breasts that they proudly displayed—all four of them, because multiple pregnancies were common in their species.
Thankfully, the males kept their junk hidden inside their bodies. It only came out when they were aroused, so I was confident I would never see a vodnik prick live, ever.
But I had sneaked a peek at vodnik porn during my googling frenzy. In the light of day, it felt wrong, though, and I was deeply ashamed of myself .
My face flamed. Here I was, about to meet my new bodyguard with whom I’d be stuck for the foreseeable future, and what did I think about to calm my panicking heart?
His huge, prehensile, two-pronged dick.
“We’re ready to go!” Agent Beck shouted over the crash of the waves.
“Thank God,” I muttered when Agent Narita firmly held my arm and guided me down the gentle slope to the motorboat bobbing ten feet away from the shore, its engine running. Agent Beck, a blond man in his late thirties, was already on board, his lifejacket the only splash of vivid color in the dull landscape.
It was just after dawn, yet the sky was overcast, only a few shades lighter than the murky water. Everything around me was gray, and I felt small and insignificant surrounded by the monochromatic austerity of Lake Superior.
I was sure it was lovely when the sun was out, though. It wasn’t the lake’s fault I had to dive when the lighting was at its most severe.
“Good luck,” Agent Narita said, giving me a firm pat on the back. “You’ll be fine. Vodyan is already waiting at the pickup point.”
I nodded, my throat too constricted to speak. I was about to dive deep into a lake that was known as one of humanity’s largest freshwater graveyards, haunted by huge bloodthirsty snakes and who knew what else.
My job as a kindergarten teacher hadn’t prepared me for this. Not in the least.
Though if I were in a better frame of mind, I might have made a joke about my kids behaving like a school of piranhas sometimes, all starving for my attention and ready to tear me to pieces.
God, I missed them.
I took off my shoes and handed them to Agent Narita. My suit was a full body affair, covering me from head to toes, palms included. I didn’t wear anything underneath. It was supposed to draw energy from the water and generate heat through a feat of technological genius I hadn’t bothered to wrap my head around .
Yet as I waded into the freezing water, I had to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. The cold hit me like a physical pain, making me immediately break out in violent shivers.
Heroically, I made my way to the motorboat on numb legs and climbed clumsily inside. Agent Beck tsked with sympathy.
“The suit will start working soon after you submerge. Not to worry,” he said.
I sat down shakily and tucked my feet under me in the hopes of warming them up. My teeth chattered too hard for me to express a concern about hypothermia.
The boat lurched into motion, spraying cold water as the bow plowed through the waves. I squeezed the edge of the narrow bench, holding on with all my might as my brain latched on to my mantra.
You’re all right. You’re safe. It sucks right now, but everything will be fine soon. I promise. It’s just a bit of discomfort. You can get through this. In fact, you WILL get through this, because you have no other choice.
That helped me calm down. The boat shuddered, picking up speed, and I had to untuck my feet to sit more securely. I was still terrified, cold, and miserable, but at least now, I saw the light of hope at the end of this ordeal.
Just a month , I promised myself. A month and you can get back on land and start looking for a new job. And a new apartment.
And, most likely, a new life.
I sighed, deciding not to think about my bleak prospects. Even if I survived this and got Matthias Carver sentenced, my life as I knew it was over. For one, even if all his people were caught and locked up, some of them would get short sentences. They would come out in a few years, all murderous and eager to avenge the bitch who put them in jail.
I would live in hiding until the end of my days. I resented it, and, at the same time, thought it was a small price to pay for justice, inadequate as it was.
Personally, I believed all of them deserved to die, even those barely involved in Carver’s child trafficking business. Those who knew he stole orphaned kids to sell them into slavery and did nothing to stop it were as guilty as he was in my eyes.
And even though the punishment that awaited them wasn’t suitably cruel, I was still determined to make it happen. To do that, I had to survive until I could testify in court. I was the only remaining witness, and what I knew was damning enough that Carver focused all his resources on silencing me.
When I agreed to testify against him, I knew the risks—in theory, at least.
The first witness murder really drove it home, though.
I saw the photo from the death scene by accident. Administrator Kowalski, who was in prison thanks to my testimony, was killed in her cell, the red gash in her throat like a grotesque smile. I didn’t pity her. She was in charge of the children’s home I volunteered at, and she was entrusted with the wellbeing of the children. She violated that trust so completely, no punishment would ever clear her blame.
Instead of fulfilling her duties, she made it easy for Carver to kidnap some of the kids in exchange for a hefty bribe. I overheard their conversation after seven children vanished, and everything they said made it damningly clear what was going on.
She knew the kids would be slaves forced to do unspeakable things. She let him take them for money, and agreed to sweep the kidnappings under the rug. After all, they were orphans who had no one. She was the one who was supposed to care about their disappearance.
After I came forward, the administrator was arrested and offered a deal: a smaller sentence in exchange for testifying against Carver. She was dead two days after she agreed.
The third witness was a janitor working at the children’s home. His account wasn’t as strong as mine, but he had seen Carver and his people visit and even go through the bedrooms while the children slept, picking out their victims. Carver already had clients lined up, and they wanted kids of specific species. At the time, the janitor didn’t realize what was happening, but he put it all together after those kids disappeared.
Now he was dead, too. Two agents had been assigned to protect him, but they failed. All of them were dead, and I was the next in line.
Damn it. Breathe.
I realized I was shaking so hard, it was difficult to stay in my seat. Tunnel vision turned on, my world darkening and narrowing. I gulped deep breaths, recognizing an impending panic attack.
I hadn’t had those in years, but my life being uprooted and in danger, combined with the prospect of diving into the deadly lake, must have been too much. I focused on box breathing, clumsily tapping the top of my head with my gloved hand to ease the anxiety even just a little.
One, two, three, four, hold. Tap, tap, tap.
Five minutes later, I had myself under control, but I felt the panic churning in my belly. It was barely suppressed, ready to leap out at the slightest provocation.
I forced myself to stay calm, breathing as evenly as I could. My body grew numb in places, which helped things a bit as long as I didn’t think about my toes possibly freezing off.
Shit. I was thinking about my toes freezing off.
One, two, three, four, hold. Tap, tap, tap.
“Five miles to go!”
Agent Beck shouted, and still, I barely heard him over the crash of the waves and the roar of the engine. I wasn’t sure the weather was that great for a motorboat jaunt on the lake, but he didn’t seem to worry, so I did my best to stay calm, too.
I knew this was only the first, shortest part of the trip. After I dove about 30 feet down, my bodyguard would intercept me and keep me at that depth until my body adjusted. Then, we’d go gradually deeper.
My breathing gear was equipped with a filter that was supposed to prevent nitrogen necrosis that occurred at greater depths. According to the agent who gave me a crash course in human survival underwater, the gear would do all the heavy lifting. I was supposed to just breathe and let it happen.
As the motorboat cut through the waves, spraying my face with cold water, even breathing seemed like a challenge.
“You’ll be okay,” I muttered to myself, gripping the cold bench.
There was a silver lining to this madness. The longer we rode, the more I longed to finally submerge fully so my suit’s heat-generating powers would kick in. It was such an odd thing to want: dive into the freezing water so I could be warm.
But I held on to the prospect with all my might, because warmth was a positive thing to look forward to.
“Almost there!”
I nodded and pulled the top of my suit over my head. Next, I slipped on the upper face mask, which comprised light-filtering goggles that would make it possible to see in the dark and a nose cover, through which my air would flow. The tubing was sewn into the suit.
Once I pressed the clear plastic firmly to my face, suction turned on, fastening it seamlessly to my skin. I took an experimental breath through my nose, noting with relief the air flowed easily. My gear had been checked and rechecked multiple times, but I was still terrified something would fail.
And then my vodnik bodyguard would have to give me mouth to mouth. I giggled like a schoolgirl, loud enough that Agent Beck heard me. He looked at me with concern and I waved clumsily, almost hitting myself in the face.
“I’m fine,” I choked out, desperately trying to control my deviant brain.
God. Should I just lobotomize myself?
I had a separate piece to cover the lower half of my face. It was also connected to my air tank. For now, I didn’t put it on to conserve air, and I breathed through my mouth, the cold air freezing my gums and throat.
I normally didn’t get sick, my immunity supercharged from all the time I spent with infection-riddled five-year-olds, and yet I still felt like getting the flu was inevitable after freezing my ass off on this motorboat.
Though, I hoped not. I couldn’t imagine having a runny nose while breathing through the mask.
Beck killed the engine, braking gently until we stopped. The boat rocked on the waves. Another bout of panic hit me, and I opened my mouth wide to get as much air as I could.
One, two, three, four, hold.
I didn’t dare tap this time. My hands shook too much to aim properly, and I’d probably gauge my eye out at this rate if I tried to tap its outer corner.
“Well, this is it,” Beck said, coming over. “I checked with Vodyan. He’s waiting right below us, ready to get you once you dive. Are you ready?”
“No,” I said, my voice coming out muffled.
Cotton filled my ears, my senses cutting me off from the world to protect me. Beck crouched in front of me, his gray eyes filled with concern.
“What do you need right now, Zoe?” he asked, very in line with the agents’ practical approach.
From the start, they were all about immediate, optimal solutions to every problem. They moved me from safehouse to safehouse, considered multiple approaches to protecting me, and finally came up with the one that apparently guaranteed the best survival rates based on their calculations.
During all that, I’d been cut off from my family and friends, torn out of my life, and left without any emotional support whatsoever.
So what I needed the most was a hug, but I wouldn’t tell that to Agent Beck. He’d probably hug me if I told him the truth, and it would be as practical and brisk as everything the agents did.
“For this to be over,” I said instead, taking a bracing breath. “All right. Let’s do this. ”
He nodded with satisfaction and got up. I followed him on unsteady legs, breathing deeply through my mouth to hold nausea at bay. The lake was impenetrably gray, stretching far and wide. I couldn’t help thinking I’d get lost forever once I dove in.
But I wouldn’t. My bodyguard waited for me down there. I would be fine.
“Just jump in and let yourself sink. Breathe through your nose. He’ll catch you,” Beck instructed me, but I barely heard him through the rush of terror in my ears.
My body didn’t feel like mine when I clumsily walked to the side of the boat, affixing the lower half of my mask to my face, and swung my legs over the edge. When I jumped in with a splash, the cold hit me like a punch. My entire body shuddered, my ribs constricting, and I couldn’t take another breath. I was suffocating.
Beck shouted something, waving his hands, but I didn’t understand him. I fought the grip of the cold on my body, thrashing and shaking, until the waters of Lake Superior closed over my head.
My control snapped and panic took over.