Chapter 7
Spencer had always believed that if you stayed somewhere too long, then you got soft.
You gained attachments and attachments got you into trouble…
possibly killed. Which was why it was deeply inconvenient that, after less than a day in Krakens Hole, he was already starting to feel…
settled. He didn’t like it. No, he liked it far too much.
“Stop looking like that,” Mark muttered beside him as they walked down the main stretch of town.
Spencer didn’t glance over. “Like what?”
“Like you’re considering buying property.”
“]I am not considering buying property.”
“You absolutely are.”
Spencer frowned slightly. “Maybe a small one.”
Mark groaned. “We’ve been here hours.”
“Long enough to form an opinion.”
“That opinion should be ‘we find the target and leave.’”
Spencer hummed noncommittally, because, logically his brother was right. They had a job, a simple one. Find the missing heir of the Smokeclaw clan, secure her, deliver her, then collect a bounty large. Enough to ensure they never had to take another job again.
And yet, Spencer’s gaze drifted across the town as they walked. The locals moved with ease, no tension, no worries at all. He’d never experienced that before.
“You’re doing it again,” Mark said.
“I’m Observing,” Spencer corrected.
“You’re thinking about settling,” Mark argued back
Spencer ignored that as they moved through the town slowly, deliberately, not searching in any obvious way, just… existing. Listening. Watching.
It didn’t take long. Places like this thrived on stories and gossip.
“…told you, witches down by Merlin’s Gate nearly took the cavern out this morning…”
“…nah, they do that all the time…”
“…familiars worse than the witches, if you ask me…”
“…you seen that ghost parrot? Absolute menace…”
Spencer filed it all away. Witches and familiars, the usual kind of things you would find in a paranormal town. But not useful.
“…and that little purple dragon…”
Spencer’s attention honed in instantly, he didn’t turn though, just listened.
“…always about, that one. Bit odd, but sweet enough…”
“…belongs to Jessica, don’t it?”
“…something like that…”
Mark’s foot slowed slightly beside him and yet Spencer’s gaze remained forward.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Mark murmured.
“No,” Spencer replied calmly.
“You’re lying again.”
Spencer didn’t deny it this time. A purple dragon, small and unassuming but present enough to be noticed, but not enough to be questioned…
“Too obvious maybe?” Mark asked.
“Or exactly the kind of obvious everyone ignores,” Spencer countered.
Mark exhaled slowly. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”
“We’re following a lead.”
“That’s a very polite way of saying we’re about to stalk a small dragon.”
Spencer gave him a flat look.
Mark shrugged. “Just clarifying.”
They continued walking, but Spencer’s thoughts had already shifted. Here, in a town that specialised in the strange, there was a dragon, the only dragon by the sound of it, but it wasn’t enough to confirm anything but it was enough to wonder…
Spencer’s jaw tightened slightly.
“According to the brief,” Mark said, “she’s violent.”
“According to the brief,” Spencer replied, “everyone else failed.”
Mark snorted. “Fair point.”
“You’re hesitating,” Mark added.
Spencer didn’t like how easily his brother read him.
“I’m considering variables.”
“You’re hesitating and that doesn’t help us, Spencer,” Mark added.
They turned back toward the Ferret’s Mott eventually, the familiar warmth of the place spilling out into the street as they approached and, inside, it was just as lively as before.
They didn’t stay long but just enough to be seen by the locals.
Making their presence known before they headed up to their room.
Mark dropped onto his bed immediately, arms behind his head. “I hate it here,” he declared.
Spencer moved to the window, looking out over the town. “You don’t.”
“I do,” Mark insisted. “It’s small. It’s loud. It smells like… optimism.”
Spencer almost smiled. “You prefer the ocean.”
“I prefer space,” Mark corrected. “Depth. Quiet. Not… this.”
He gestured vaguely.
Spencer understood, of course he did, and Mark had always leaned harder into it. Into what they were. Spencer controlled it and contained it, whereas Mark embraced it, he preferred it.
Their Kraken forms weren’t something Mark feared. They were something he missed.
This place, this job, this proximity to the town where their kind was revered was a strain.
“You could go out,” Spencer said after a moment.
Mark’s gaze snapped to him.
“You know I can’t, you know we can’t.”
Spencer’s expression didn’t change. “I know.”
Spencer looked back out the window. “I didn’t say leave,” he said.
Mark didn’t reply. Because they both knew that line was thinner than it sounded.
Silence settled between them. It was familiar and yet heavy.
Spencer let his gaze drift out toward the sea, he could feel it, that pull, yet it was stronger here, it almost brushed against his soul but now it was restless. Maybe they had denied what their true nature was for far too long.
It wasn’t just about the call of the water, it was different, and Spencer had read about it a while ago. A note in a text that hadn’t seemed relevant at the time.
When a Kraken begins to feel the pull beyond territory or tide… it is not the sea calling.
Spencer exhaled slowly, they had no time for this. They would find the missing heir and deliver her. “The job comes first,” he said quietly.
Mark let out a short breath. “Yeah.”
“Find her. Finish it. Leave.”
“Retire,” Mark added.
Spencer nodded once. “Retire,” he repeated, and yet he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something here wasn’t going to let him leave that easily.