18 AURORA
The shark-shifter—that hulking brute who dived off the superyacht’s deck—never even reaches our hull.
Because a monster intercepts him like a snake after its prey.
An apt metaphor.
Francois.
The realization slams into me, vibrating down the invisible, singing thread connecting my core straight to his.
The two beasts collide. It’s a deafening, wet, thunderous boom that sends a wall of spray crashing over our bow.
“Tally!” I scream, my voice raw as I point a shaking hand at the battling monsters. “Tally, that’s Francois! We have to—”
I don't even get the words out before a blinding explosion of green magic tears the fog wide open. Now I can see the true, terrifying scale of a top-tier predator fight.
It’s fucking ferocious.
A hundred feet of iridescent, emerald-green coils twisting and roiling through the swells. A gray paleolithic creature, all teeth and muscle fights back. I see its maw smash down onto Francois’s long torso in a tide of frothing white fury.
“Noooo! Get him!”
In the back of my awareness I hear the engines roaring. The boat swerves violently. What the fuck?
“Tally, stop. It’s Francois. Wait!” He’s going the wrong way.
I slide over to the other side of the boat, my eyes not wanting to leave Francois alone in his battle. The shark beast snaps its dangerous knife-like teeth again, while its muscular human arms claw at Francois’s thick green scales.
They roll together beneath the surface, a horrific, roiling mass of apex predators, before breaching the waves again in a violent spray of crimson-stained foam.
Is he hurt?
“Fuck me sideways,” Basil breathes, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead as he stares, harpoon still in his hand. “That’s, like, epic shit.”
“Hold on!” Tally roars over the deafening screams of the battle and the engine. His bare shoulders are tense, his knuckles white as he yanks the steering wheel hard to the starboard side. The speed forces both me and Basil to fall backwards as we jet away.
As soon as I can fight the g-force, I stagger to my feet and beat my fists against Tally’s back. “Turn around, you idiot! Didn’t you hear me? That’s Francois battling that monster.”
The cold, untouchable aristocrat who looks at the world like it’s beneath his boots is tearing himself apart in a freezing ocean just because I asked him for help.
It feels like a piece of my own soul is out there drowning, and if he goes under, he’s taking my heart with him.
“We can’t leave him!” I shriek, my voice cracking with panic. “He’s fighting that thing for us!”
The thread between me and Francois pulls taut.
Don’t you fucking dare, Francois de Vaux. Don’t you dare leave me now I’ve just got to like you.
“We have to move Rory!” Tally growls back, his golden wolf-eyes flashing with desperation as he looks over his shoulder at me. “Look up at the decks!” He gestures his head toward the towering silhouette of the yacht.
I follow his gaze and my blood runs cold. The crane pulleys are moving again. Two more heavy rubber Zodiacs hit the ocean surface packed to the brim with guards wielding some heavy-fucking-duty guns.
Shit.
I feel the presence of Basil behind me. A hundred-foot sea serpent has a better chance of survival in this war-torn sea than the kid does.
And London. Does he have Sky?
Tally’s right. We have to go.
A heavy sob rips from my chest, hot tears spilling over my cheeks, as the churning water turns darker, thicker with blood.
And we leave.
What about the old adage ‘never leave a man behind’? I guess there’s another one more appropriate in this circumstance. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
I don’t say another word as The Carnivàle and the monsters are once again shrouded with fog as we cut through the water.
But the pain behind my sternum is unrelenting.
“AURORA!”
Blink.
“Find out where London is,” Tally instructs me.
Right. Concentrate.
“Have you seen the walkie, Basil?” I croak.
He finds it dropped in a puddle of sea water, but it’s still working. “London, are you there? What’s happening?” I turn to Basil. “Keep looking for them.”
Once again, I start yelling down the walkie-talkie. Why isn’t he answering?
“There! Look!” Basil’s high voice cuts through my grief, his small hand pointing out toward the open water on our starboard side. “That’s our boat, right?”
Through a narrow seam in the rolling gray mist, barely visible against the dark swell is a little wooden dinghy.
London is heaving on the oars with everything he’s got.
Sky?
I don’t see her, but the dinghy is riding dangerously low in the water. That has to mean something.
Tally slams the throttle all the way forward. The twin jet engines let out a shriek, the nose lifting out of the water as we rocket toward the dinghy to intercept it.
I spin around in my seat, looking back over the stern. The guards with guns could be just seconds behind us. But the fog keeps me from seeing anything.
Fuck.
Tally powers down and brings us broadside to the little wooden boat.
London looks a mix of exhausted, relieved and deliriously happy. “Kitten! Fuckwad! Jacked Sparrow!”
That’s when I notice a collection of little heads ducked low in the boat. Children.
Little kids. And no Sky.
Don’t think about that. No time. Worry about the babies.
As the cold wind whips at our bodies, London passes child after child over to Tally, who hands them back to me. “Ditch the Sadie-Mae,” he yells at London. “The drag will slow us down too much.”
“On it!” My faun leaps from the little boat onto the seat next to me, throwing the tow line overboard. Before another word can be spoken, Tally roars us out into the fog, heading away from our pursuers.
And Francois.
“Where’s Shane?” London asks, crushing me in a hug.
I gulp. “Back there fighting the shark.”
“Cool,” he shrugs carelessly, making me want to slap him. “Meet our new friends. This is Pepper and Sheena. Our little dude is Ricky, and this bean is Lil’ Hare.”
He dumps the sleeping girl into my lap. Her physical weight pulls me from my despair. I realize I really have to get my shit together. “OK, kids, is anyone hurt?”
Basil already has his arms around Ricky, holding him tight. Pepper and Sheena cling on to each other. They look like sisters. Thank Gods they have each other.
But poor, poor babies. What have they been through?
I don’t have it in me to ask about Sky. If she’d been there, London would have brought her to me. But she’s not dead.
She can’t be.
Above the whine of our engines a siren from out across the water starts blaring. “What now?” I shriek.
“Abandon ship, all ye who sail there,” London grins.
“Huh?”
“The circus boat will be too busy sinking to worry about us. Good old Shane. Can’t wait to give him an oops-a-daisy next time I see him. If he makes it, that is. Fingers crossed!”
“He’ll make it,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “He’ll kill the enemy and then come find us.”
It’s Francois de Vaux.
He doesn’t know how to fail.
Please Gods.