The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us #1)(22)

But now that’s going to change, because I’m the only one on this ship who knows how to make a Reckoner comfortable with human presence. I haven’t told Santa Elena that I’ve never done this before, but I think she senses it somehow. She’s so intent on watching this part of the training process that she’s forgone her other duties on the ship just to be here.

She probably just wants to see me get eaten.

I toss Bao a few fish when he noses up to the beacon and then wipe my hands down on a towel. Reckoners have keen noses, and I don’t want him to mistake my fingers for anything they aren’t. With the beast pup distracted by the food, I slip into the water feet first.

I haven’t swum in so long that for a moment I hang beneath the surface in shock, the NeoPacific’s gentle rhythm cradling me back and forth. I blink, then slip the respirator up over my nose, my gaze fixed on the monster next to me. He’s still pointed toward where I threw the fish—the little idiot hasn’t noticed that anything’s changed.

This is the hardest part. I have to touch him to get his attention, but there’s a sweet spot I need to hit. If I go too fast, I might trigger him, but if he’s aware of me for too long, that gives him time to think, to plan a move that might rip my arm off. He’s at least five times heavier than me, and his personality is as changeable as the winds.

I kick forward and reach out, fingertips stretching toward his foreleg.

When I make contact, Bao’s muscles twitch underneath my hand. His eye flicks toward me, and I can see him calculating, deciding exactly what this means and exactly what he’s going to do about it. I hold my breath, the respirator whining, waiting for the air that I’m bound to expel.

He turns, his head looming toward me as I push myself backward, doing my best to avoid making sudden movements. Come on, I plead, releasing my breath in a slow hiss that fizzles out of the mask in tiny bubbles. Come on, little shit. You know me.

Bao puts his nose right up against my chest, and I’m acutely aware of the razor-sharp beak that nudges at my wetsuit. Cautiously, as slowly as I can manage, I bring my hands down and place them on top of his head. He snorts, a stream of bubbles blasting out of his blowholes, and I jerk my head back enough to startle him.

My breath’s caught in my throat again as Bao tenses, his mouth hanging open. All he needs to do is push forward and bite down, and he’ll have my guts decorating the ocean.

But he doesn’t.

The little monster—no, for the first time I think of him as my little monster—blinks at me, waiting. His eyes are huge, the crinkles at the edges of his eyelids making him look much more wizened than he has any right to be. He’s curious. He wants to know why I’ve joined him in the water.

I let my hands slip down around his head until I’m cradling his jaw, my grip snug on the bones that jut out there. I kick my feet once, twice, urging him to follow me upward. So long as I hold his jaw, he can’t bite me. So long as we’re connected, I’m safe.

And Bao follows my push until we break the surface. He blasts air out of his blowholes and squalls, tossing his head. I let him lift me just a bit, my respirator crackling as I laugh through it. I glance up at the trainer deck, where Santa Elena towers over us. There’s a flash of disappointment in her eyes that a savage grin quickly replaces.

That’s right, bitch, I think, my fingers crimped so tightly on Bao’s jaw that they’ve gone bone-white. If you want me dead, do it yourself.

Just beyond her, I catch the quick motion of Swift lifting her head, but the smile she wears is nothing like the captain’s. It’s the smile that cracks through right when you’re on the edge of tears, the smile that comes in the wake of sheer, numbing fear. I lived, and so Swift gets to live too. I see another flicker of movement, this time the flash of a middle finger that jabs up toward the captain’s turned back.

“Swift, put out an all-call for the rest of the crew. I think this’ll be good for them to see,” Santa Elena snaps, and Swift stows the gesture just as quickly as she whipped it out.



Ten minutes later, the Minnow’s brethren are packed onto the trainer deck, all leering out at me in the water. In the front of the crowd, I spot Varma dangling a bill over Chuck. She has to jump to swipe the money from him, but there’s a self-satisfied grin that accompanies it and lets me know that I just helped her win a bet. And it seems like Varma bet against me. That’s interesting.

Bao’s large eyes flick back and forth, taking in the crowd staring down at him. He hasn’t been around this many people since the day he was born, and I worry that it’ll throw some switch in him, something that will make him dangerous. Already he’s starting to lean away from my grip, and I can feel the tension in him building, like a wound-up spring ready to burst forward.

Santa Elena’s got one arm wrapped around her son, the other resting easily on the gun in her holster. She looks like a founder of a city, meant to be immortalized in bronze. “Well done, Cassandra,” she says, her tone musical.

Her praise stings, but I can’t let it take my focus.

There’s an urge building up inside me, and I don’t realize quite what it is until I release my hold on Bao and slide one of my arms across his back. When I’m out in the water, I’m free from the Minnow and everything it stands for. I’m my own entity, with all the power that a Reckoner can give. And I want to show them just how powerful I am.