The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us #1)(51)
We weave through the bustle surrounding the docks, dodging traders, slavers, and seemingly everyone in between. The chatter around us shifts effortlessly from language to language. I swear everyone around me is fluent in at least three. English dominates the conversations—pre-Schism colonialism at its finest—but as we slip through the crowd, I catch snatches of Spanish, what I think is Tagalog, and a few strains of Canto that I instinctively try to translate. We make our way toward the heart of the harbor, where the not-quite-sleek form of the Minnow awaits us.
There are still a few spectators on the dock when we arrive, but there isn’t much to see. Bao sulks behind the ship, his bulk barely eclipsed by it. Reckoners are finicky creatures, and they’re notoriously shy when they’ve got hundreds of people ogling them. They’re built for the privacy of the open seas, not the speculation of ports, but the homing signal keeps him bound to the Minnow’s side, regardless of how bashful he feels.
“He needs a chance to get out and hunt,” I say as we approach the knot of people still watching our beast. “Do you think the captain would let us take a Splinter and—”
The words die in my throat. Something’s risen over the babble of the crowd, two words that need no translation:
“Cassandra Leung.”
I turn so fast that the cuffs all but cut my wrist, and there’s Fabian Murphy, our IGEOC agent, his cold gray eyes fixed on mine. His suit looks as out of place on the Flotilla as it did in Mom’s lab all those months ago, and he seems just as startled to see me as I am to see him. I don’t blame him. To Murphy, I’m a ghost made flesh, a long-dead girl who’s somehow managed to crawl out of the sea.
It takes Swift a few seconds to realize exactly what’s happened, but when she does, it only takes her an instant to react. She pulls hard on the cuffs, jerking me away from him as he takes a step forward, and before I can choke out a protest, her hand is over my mouth. “We need to get away from the ship,” she hisses in my ear.
“Calm down, miss,” Murphy says, shifting after a few uncertain syllables into the voice he always uses to negotiate. “Look, I’m sure we can talk this out.”
Swift hauls me backward just as Murphy reaches out, his cold grasp latching around my wrist before she can tug me out of reach. I try to speak through her fingers, but all I get is muffled vowels.
His grip is unrelenting, and it feels like he’s about to rip me in half. “Cassandra, it’s your handiwork, isn’t it? The beast? Please, I can get you away from them. I have contacts in the SRCese military who could—”
“Who is this guy?” Swift scoffs, her breath hot on my neck. Murphy pulls so hard that I feel a pop in my shoulder. I’m caught in a tug of war between savior and captor, and the worst part is that I know exactly who I’d go with if given the choice. But neither of them are giving me that choice. The people around us are starting to stare.
“I can tell your parents—”
“Cas,” Swift warns.
It’s all up to me. I let the stiffness go from my spine, going so limp that Swift startles, checking to see what’s wrong. Her hold slips, and I lunge forward, straining against her and toward Murphy. His grip on my wrist loosens, and in that moment, I twist.
And then I’m free. Relatively speaking. Still chained to Swift, but Murphy takes a second to blink, and that’s all we need. Swift’s arm slips from my mouth to my shoulders as she drags me into a sprint. But we’re not headed down the docks, toward the heart of the Flotilla.
No, Swift hauls me off the edge of the platform, and for the third time today, we’re falling.
We plunge underwater, and immediately Swift starts swimming for the shadow of the pier, drawing me into the dark. The harbor is bitterly cold in the shade, and when we finally come up for air, my breath comes in shudders.
“Would you stop jumping off shit for like, three seconds?” I hiss between my chattering teeth. I shouldn’t be joking, but I don’t know what else to do. Why is Fabian Murphy on the Flotilla? What’s an IGEOC agent doing in a pirate colony?
Whatever the reason, two things are for certain. Murphy’s on an uplink right now, and I’m no longer a dead girl walking.
Swift treads water, reaching down to her belt and pulling out her radio. She shakes it a few times, then lifts it to her lips. “Hey boss, we’ve got a situation. Some random on the docks recognized Cas.”
“Are they still there?” Santa Elena’s voice cracks through the radio, echoing off the floorboards above us. The light that streams down between them traces dappled patterns in the waves.
“Not sure. We’re in hiding now.”
“Get back to the ship. I’ll call everyone else in. We’re off this raft in an hour.”
When the comm clicks off, Swift deflates, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s going to miss dinner. She isn’t even going to get a chance to say goodbye. Her already-spare time at home has just been taken from her in a matter of seconds, and it’s all my fault. In the half light that weaves through the shadows, I can see the tears welling up in her eyes as she bobs, keeping her head just above the water.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“They’re gonna think I’m just like Mom,” Swift croaks. Her hair falls over her face in a messy wet mop as she dips her head, trying to turn away from me.