She pictured herself standing in his place.
No, she thought. I will not become a slave. I will never give myself to this maniac.
Magnolia exhaled and straightened her back. Then she did what she had been wanting to do for a while. She spat in el Pulpo’s face.
He reared back, the spit dripping from his chin. To her amazement, his smile remained.
At the distant crack of gunfire, he looked over her shoulder to the water beyond. He directed one of his soldiers toward the railing and then turned back to Imulah.
Apparently, gunfire wasn’t all that big a deal on the Metal Islands.
Miles nudged her leg, his muscles shivering.
“El Pulpo wants to know how you found us,” the servant said.
Magnolia remained silent.
“You’re only hurting yourself if you don’t talk,” he said.
El Pulpo wiped the rest of the spittle off his face and tasted it with his long tongue. Magnolia’s stomach churned again.
As he licked his finger clean, the gunfire returned, this time followed by a raucous explosion.
She turned back to the view of the ocean and the oil rigs.
Flames licked the horizon, where one of the platforms had exploded. A massive blast suddenly flared, and the entire structure seemed to go up in a small mushroom cloud. El Pulpo shoved her out of the way and ran after his two guards for a better view.
“I’m not the only one who came to kill you!” Magnolia shouted after him. “The man who took your eye is here, and this time he will finish the job.”
El Pulpo halted and looked back to Imulah, who quickly translated her words. The smile on the king’s face was gone now. He snorted at her like one of the armored hogs on the Turks and Caicos Islands.
“That’s right, you lump of Siren shit. The devil’s coming, and he won’t show you any mercy. Xavier Rodriguez is the king of the surface—not you,” she said, wagging a purple-painted fingernail.
El Pulpo raised one pierced brow while the robed servant explained her words. The next thing happened with such speed, she had no chance to react.
He smacked her in the head with the crown of his head, blocking out the sunlight in a sudden blow. She collapsed to the floor, feeling the wet fur of the dog beneath her crumpled body.
TWENTY-TWO
The C4 had done the trick.
X sped away from the oil rig. He had selected it because it appeared to be just a warehouse with floors and floors of stacked junk—nothing vital to his own people’s future needs.
Another explosion rocked the structure, enveloping the entire rig. Flames licked the sky. In a few hours, the entire skyline would be obscured in smoke.
His plan wasn’t perfect, but it could work. It had to.
Creating chaos was his only way to save Magnolia and Miles. If he could give the impression that there were more hostiles than one out here, he might have a chance to follow his friends’ beacons while they remained alive.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Cazadores in flames, jumping off the platforms into the water. Others were flailing in the ocean.
Some of them had made it to boats anchored beneath the structure. X hadn’t seen any children or women before detonating the C4—another reason he had selected the warehouse, even though part of him considered all these people enemies, just like the Sirens.
Anyone who wants to eat me, I’m happy to kill.
Still, he couldn’t help but have qualms about killing kids and women. They were still human, unlike the Sirens, which had developed into an entirely new species.
He felt a faint pang of remorse, but nothing he couldn’t get over.
He hadn’t come here to make peace. He came for revenge.
And now they had his friend and his dog.
If it meant saving two of the most important beings in his life, he would kill every last one of them.
So far, his plan was working.
None of the bastards back on the platform had seemed to recognize him before he detonated the C4. The drivers of boats and WaveRunners that passed him didn’t seem to pay him any mind, either.
Dozens of the vessels zoomed away from the clusters of oil rigs in the distance. They were too enraged to pay close enough attention. Cazador soldiers raised weapons and screamed in Spanish.
And they didn’t seem to have a way of communicating over distance, which gave him another advantage. No radios to connect them and help them sort out what was going on. He would use that to his advantage.
X steadied his breathing and rode the waves as fast as he could, heading for the beacon on his wrist monitor. Timothy was still active on the Sea Wolf and was feeding him information via his headset under the baseball cap and goggles X had taken off the dead Cazador soldier.
The goggles were ancient artifacts with lenses yellowed from centuries of use. But they still helped keep the water out of his eyes.
He gunned the engine toward the next oil rig.
This one wasn’t a junkyard—it was a farm built on multiple levels. On the lower decks were shanty houses, some of them dangling over the water.
Blowing up a farm wasn’t an option. If Katrina ever did make it here, they would need it.
To blend in, he joined an armada of four boats, all filled with Cazador warriors, heading around the structure.
You’re going the wrong way, assholes, he thought.
Why would they be heading away from the Sea Wolf and the explosions?
Unless you’re on your way to protect someone or something…
Scanning the horizon, X counted a dozen more oil rigs. It took him only a glance to see their target. The city on the sea had a capital, and he was looking at what appeared to be a goddamn castle.
He eased off the throttle when he saw what could have been the Hive, sitting on top of the towers.
“Commander Rodriguez, do you copy?”
“I’m here, Pepper. You got a sitrep?”
“I do, sir. Magnolia’s beacon hasn’t moved for several minutes.”
X glanced down at his wrist monitor, which he had put back on a few minutes earlier. Sure enough, the beacons were idle. But they were still blinking, which meant Mags and Miles were alive.
“I believe she reached her destination about thirty minutes ago,” Timothy added.
“On my way there now,” X said.
“Sir, there’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“A dozen Cazador ships have surrounded the Sea Wolf, and they just pulled a naked body out of the water.”
X cringed at the news. They had found the man he killed and stripped. But how?
Then it hit him. The man was fatter than any of his mates. Of course he would float! X felt like kicking himself.
“I’m about to be boarded, sir. I presume this is the end. Whatever happens next, I’m afraid you will be on your own. To say it’s been an honor would be an understatement, Commander.”
“You done good, Pepper. Thank you for helping us.”
“It was my pleasure, sir. Is there anything else I can do to assist you?”
“Yeah,” X said. “Relay this message to the Hive and Deliverance before you’re shut down. The very fate of my people may rest in your hands, Pepper. Make sure Captain DaVita gets this message.”
X grabbed the handlebar and gave what might be his final transmission as he sped toward the capital of the Cazadores.
In the medical bay of the USS Zion, Michael raised his left arm and bandaged right stump so Trey and Layla could pull his shirt over his bare chest. What had once been a routine requiring little thought or effort was now a painful and laborious process. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Staying awake hurt.