The Raven (A Jane Harper Horror Novel) (17 page)

My small measure of relief is erased by the memory of three missing colossal blue whales. I turn around and shout, “Has anyone seen the blues?”

Talbot shakes his head. “Not a dang thing.”

“Nothing over here,” Helena says.

Klein is approaching with a fresh spearhead for Willem. I already know he couldn’t see anything more from his position at the
center of the deck. I see Nate standing on deck three, which is the roof of the bridge. He’s got the best view on the ship. “Nate!”

He doesn’t acknowledge me. I shout louder and wave my arms. “Nate!”

His head turns subtly, but I can see he’s looking at me now.

“Can you see the blue whales? There are three of them!”

Nothing. No reply. He just stares at me.

I squeeze the grenade launcher’s grip. “Nate, I swear to God if you are having some kind of whale love pout fest up there, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you until you beg me to feed you to them.”

Still nothing.
Is he in some kind of shock?
Whatever the reason, he’s useless.

“Oh shit,” Klein says. “Oh shit. Go faster!”

Willem and Klein are doing their best to quickly reel in the spent harpoon while piling the cable in neat loops so it can be fired again. Beyond them, out to sea, is a single killer whale. As its back arcs up and out of the water, I see a series of bloody puncture wounds. This is the orca that was bitten.

Draugr
, I think.

My fear is confirmed when the beast rises again, clutching the rope in its jaws. We’ve been outsmarted
again
. The sperm whales weren’t attacking, they were
distracting
. More than that, we used up our ammo on them, leaving us no way to stop the freshly turned orca.

How did they know? How did they know!

I run for the supply closet as the orca closes the distance.

The closet doors shake as I whip them open and descend on the box of grenades like a rabid Tasmanian devil. I take out two rounds, probably far more roughly than is recommended, and put them on
the deck. I pop open the six-shot revolver, dump out the spent cartridges, twist the chamber back into position, and slap in two fresh rounds. Not a lot of a margin for error, but I’m not going to have time to fire six rounds. If I miss with these two shots, I won’t have a chance to fire more anyway. With the launcher reloaded, I sprint to the rear rail.

Halfway there, Willem and Klein give up on reloading the harpoon, draw their handguns, and send a volley of lead over the rail. They’re aiming nearly straight down. Not a good sign and a wasted effort. The 9mm rounds couldn’t stop a non-Draugr orca, never mind one that’s technically already dead.

I nearly fall over the rail when I arrive and point the grenade launcher’s barrel over the side. I see the sleek black shape of the killer slide beneath the dive deck. My finger finds the trigger and squeezes, but the weapon is yanked from my hand before I can fire.

“Jane, no!” Willem shouts as he takes the weapon.

The ship shakes a moment later. The orca has struck the prop. Blood and gore plume out behind the ship as the nine-ton killer is diced by the giant propeller blades. But did the rope catch?

A grinding sound and sudden deceleration confirm the suicide attack’s success. The prop has been fouled.

Being an experienced whaler who has dealt with antiwhaling organizations in the past, Jakob reacts quickly, shutting down the engine. The silence that follows is eerie until I break it.

“Willem, what the hell!” I shout. “Why didn’t you let me shoot it!”

“We can fix a fouled prop,” he says. “But we can’t fix it if you blow it up.”

I just grind my teeth. It’s the closest thing he’ll get to a concession and he knows it, so he doesn’t say anything else about it.

The ship slows. We’re dead in the water. And to get moving again, someone will have to go in the water and cut away the cable. Being the only one on board with diving experience, I can guess who that someone is going to be.

Three gentle thumps from below furrow my brow, but I relax when I feel our speed pick up. “Did Jakob restart the engine?”

Willem’s frown is deep. “No.” He walks to the port rail and looks over the side of the ship.

“But we’re moving,” I say.

“It’s not us,” he says, then points. “It’s them.”

I look over the rail and see nothing but ocean. But the deep blue waves are suddenly disturbed by a swirl of water that flattens the surface and lets me catch a glimpse of a massive fluke. The three giants have wedged their bodies up against the hull and are now directing the ship’s motion. The Draugar never intended to kill or sink us. The whole thing was an elaborately choreographed kidnapping. With our engine disabled and the whales largely shielded by the
Raven
’s hull, there is nothing we can do now except go along for the ride.

Jakob arrives at the rail. He leans over and takes a look. I expect to see him respond with righteous anger, or perhaps even defeat, but when he leans back up, he’s smiling. “Our search is over, Raven. They’re taking us, just like they did the others. We’ll find the other ships.”

“Jakob,” I say, disbelieving the man’s optimism. “Even if we find the other ships, there isn’t much we can do. We’re dead in the water. Our prop is fouled.”

The old captain gives me his best crafty Viking grin, raises an eyebrow, and says, “Is it?”

W
ith no way to fight against the giant Draugar ferrying us through the ocean, the crew stands down and gathers on the main deck. Only Nate isn’t present, which is probably in his best interest since I’m still pissed about his silence. I know now that he couldn’t have helped, but if he wants to be on this ship, he needs to help out, even if all that means is replying, “I don’t see anything.”

“You’re really okay with this?” I ask Jakob.

He nods. “They’re taking us where we want to go.”

“I thought we wanted a sample?” I ask.

Jakob’s eyes flick to the deck for just a second, but it’s his tell. He’s about to lie to me.

I cross my arms. “As much as I like you, Jakob, the next words out of your mouth better be the truth.”

He meets my eyes with a challenge. I might be his Raven, but he’s not used to being spoken to like that on his ship.

“I’m your first mate,” I remind him. “Secrets are
not
part of the deal.”

“You’re right,” he says, wandering away from the group. He looks out at the endless ocean. His shoulders sag a touch before he turns around. “I’m afraid I haven’t been totally forthcoming—”

No duh.

“—with any of you.”

That’s actually a surprise.

Willem steps closer. “Father?”

When Jakob’s forehead crisscrosses with angst, Willem adds, “What have you done?”

Jakob steels himself with a deep breath and asks, “Do you remember the man bit by an orca several months ago?”

“When we were still in the hospital?” I ask.

“I tracked him down,” Jakob says.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Willem asks. “Where is he?”

Jakob’s lips twitch. “He’s dead. By my hand. I killed him.”

“He was infected.” It’s not a question. I have no doubt about it. Not only because the man was bit by an orca, which was no doubt infected by Draugar, but because Jakob would never kill a human being, despite his ancestors’ penchant for violence.

“Part of him remained,” Jakob says. “The pain brought him out.”

“You didn’t torture him?” Helena asks, her voice cut with concern.

I turn on her, annoyed, but before I can question her knowledge of Jakob’s character, he says, “It was not my intention.”

I turn back to Jakob, silently demanding an explanation.

“I caught up with him in the mountains. He was heading north, for what purpose, I’m not sure. When I confronted him, he attacked. When my blade in his chest didn’t stop him…I took off his feet.”

“Father…” Helena says, raising her hand to her mouth. For a big Viking warrior, she’s kind of a softy. Then again, she’s religious, and killing whales is quite a bit different than hacking off a man’s feet.

“He was already dead, my dear,” Jakob says. “If you are here with us, you must believe it.”

Helena just lowers her head.

Willem tries to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs away.

“His mind only partially returned,” Jakob says. “And only when the pain was greatest. But he knew everything.”

“He’d been part of the hive mind,” I say.

With a nod, Jakob continues. “Every word he uttered was a struggle. Against the pain. Against the parasites. But he knew. So he fought.”

“What did you learn?” Klein asks, more interested in raw information than details of pain and blood, which quite frankly is how I feel, too.

“That they remembered me,” Jakob says. “They knew my name.” He looks at Willem. “And yours.” He looks at me. “And yours.”

This news is disconcerting, to say the least, but it’s not exactly helpful. When no one speaks, Jakob continues. “He spoke of the ships. It’s how I knew to look for them. He told me they intended to return again to the mainland. That they were searching for something.”

“What?” I ask.

“He could not say. When he spoke of their intentions, there was resistance. Between his words, the Draugar shouted threats. I learned about the boats, but not the purpose for them. I learned there is something in the mountains they desire, but not what.”

There’s more. I can see it in his eyes. “
Jakob
,” I say, slathering the word with impatience.

“Before I set him free, he was able to reveal one detail.” Jakob looks at me. For some reason, he thinks this revelation will affect me the most. “There are three Queens.”

Well, he was right. This is unexpected and horrible news. I killed the first Queen. Crushed it with my bare hands. But before that happened, I very nearly
became
the Queen. I offered myself to the thing so that Willem and Jakob could be spared. That’s not how it played out, but if the Draugar remember me, it’s likely they also remember the promise I made. “Do you think—”

“They remember?” Jakob finishes. His head bobs up and down. “They do.”

“You knew this when you brought me out here?” I say. It’s a rhetorical question. I already know the answer. He did. “What am I, Jakob, bait?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “You came out here, convinced all these people to join you. Your son. Your daughter. Your friends—Malik is
dead
. And you had no intention of collecting a sample, did you?”

“Jane, you don’t know that,” Willem says. He understands my temperament, that I’m getting close to knocking Jakob’s block off, and is trying to make peace, but I’m not finished.

“He could have taken a sample from the Draugr after he lopped off his feet,” I say to Willem before turning back to Jakob. “But that’s not what you did, is it?”

“I burned his body,” Jakob says, a little anger of his own sneaking into his voice.
Thataboy. Let’s have this out, Old Norse style. Show me what the old dog has left in him.

“Why, Jakob? Why did you maim, torture, and kill a man? Why did you set him on fire? What did his screams sound like as he burned? Human? Something else? Why?”

“Because it was the right thing to do!” Jakob shouts, his face turning red. “Because he wasn’t a human being anymore! Because if I let him live, the others would know we survived, that
you
survived!”

His last statement sucks away some of my anger.

“The parasites were fleeing his body,” Jakob says. “They had to be destroyed. They all need to be destroyed.”

I agree with this. With everything. Even setting the poor bastard on fire, but something still feels wrong. “Why me? I don’t understand. Why me?”

“Because the only time I saw fear in his white eyes was when he spoke
your
name. You killed their Queen, Raven. They remember that. They fear you. You are not bait. You are the spear tip.”

“She’s nothing,” an unfamiliar voice says. When the group turns around, the only person there is Nate. “’Sup, peeps,” he says.

We’re all so confused by the strange voice that we keep looking around. When it’s clear there is no one else there, I ask, “Nate, was that you just now?”

He doesn’t reply. He’s placed one hand over his right eye.

“You feeling okay, son?” Talbot asks.

“Huh?” Nate says, looking confused. “Sorry, I have a killer headache.”

Speaking of killing someone. “That why you didn’t respond when I was yelling at you?”

“You were yelling at me?” he asks. The question sounds earnest, but I’m not buying it.

“When you were standing on the upper deck? When we were busy fighting the zombie-whales? Ringing any bells?”

Nate’s face screws up with a mix of emotions. I don’t think he’s feeling any of them. It’s more like he’s not in control.

Not in control…

“Mind moving your hand away from your eye, Nate?” I ask.

He looks at me. “What for? My head is raging, man. Frikken eye feels ready to burst.”

I take aim with the grenade launcher. “Open your eye.”

Everyone takes a few steps away from Nate, but no one says a word. If anyone is afraid I’ve gone off the deep end, the fear is erased when Nate says, “
You belong to us,”
in a voice that is not his, and then adds, “Dub-TF, Jane, chill,” in his own voice.

“She doesn’t belong to you,” Jakob says.

Nate cringes away from Jakob. “The hell, man! I don’t want—
she will join us soon
—anybody!”

“He can’t hear it,” Willem says. “He doesn’t know.”

“Know what?” Nate shouts.

I look down the sight of the grenade launcher. Everyone takes a few more steps back.

“Jane!” Nate pleads. “What—”

“Show. Me. Your. Eye.” I don’t need to follow the statement with a threat. He sees my finger go to the trigger.

He pulls his hand away but still has the eye clenched shut. I aim the Mark 14 toward the closed eye. The sight slightly magnifies the target, giving me a closer look without actually stepping forward.

The eye flicks open a few times, and then snaps open wide.