Tags:
Paranormal,
YA),
Young Adult Fiction,
Young Adult,
teen,
teen fiction,
ya fiction,
ya novel,
young adult novel,
Paranormal Fiction,
teen novel,
teen lit,
abyss surrounds us,
emily skrutsky,
emily skruskie
so much better than a quick death.
I tug at the ends of my limp, damp hair, trying to rein in my thoughts. The things I know for sure form such a short list. The Nereid is taken. Durga is dead. Iâve been captured by pirates. My name is Cas Leung. I smell like Reckoner blood.
And thereâs so much Iâm not sure of. They might be sinking the ship right now, killing all of the people onboard. They might be stripping it and leaving it disabled in the middle of the NeoPacific. I wonder if Mr. Kagawa is still alive. I wonder what usefulness the pirate captain has planned for me.
I wonder if Iâll ever see my family again.
I should have grabbed my phone instead of the beacon. There was never any hope of beating these guys, not with our Reckoner bleeding out. I used my last seconds of freedom in a futile attempt to spare Durga from an agonizing death and buy the piratesâ mercy, and I couldnât even do that. I could have called home, could have told my family that I love them.
If I take this pill, the last theyâll ever hear from meâthe real me, not some missing persons reportâis a call from last night when I was too preoccupied with Durga to ask about anything going on in their lives.
Footsteps sound in the hall outside, but no one opens the door. They must be finishing up now. The boatâs engines start to hum and the floor underneath me feels less steady. I shudder, clutching the pill in my fist. The ridges of the raised lettering on the capsule dig into my skin. Six characters in total. EpiTas . Half of a Spartan phrase. E tan e epi tas. With your shield or on it.
Come back alive and victorious, or donât come back at all.
Thatâs our way. Thatâs our principle. Thatâs how we protect our industry, which in turn protects the clients that commission us. If we canât defend them, weâre worthless. If we canât defend ourselves, weâre worthless.
Other Reckoners have fallen. Uli, off the coast of the Philippines, killed by heavy shelling. Kou, near the Dominion of South Africa, strafed by harpoons. And now Durga, by the Southern Republic of California, slaughtered with nothing but a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher.
Their trainers all did the right thing. Their trainers all took the pill.
Durga is dead. Dear, sweet Durga, the big, dumb, playful turtle who loved her ship more than anything, died falling apart from the inside, unable to protect herself from the pirate captainâs rockets. Her body has probably settled on the floor of the NeoPacific. A whole ecosystem of bacteria and scavengers will gather to break down whatâs left.
Itâs only natural that Iâm supposed to follow her there.
Hours must pass. My muscles ache, but I stay frozen on the floor, staring at my clenched fist and trying to conjure the thought that will bring it to my lips.
Every fight Iâve ever assisted in ended with a sinking pirate vessel, with my dad clapping me on the shoulder as I changed the beacons over to bring our Reckoner down from her seething, righteous frenzy. He would have known what to do today. The pirates wouldnât have won.
I wouldnât be sitting here with the capsule in my hand.
Nausea churns at my stomach, and for a moment the stench of Durgaâs blood almost overwhelms me. I dig my fingernails into the flesh of my arms, fighting to keep my last meal down. If I donât do this now, the pirates will use me. Whatever that means. They could force me to cough up information on every Reckoner my mother has ever engineered, every beast my father has ever trained. They could get me to confess weaknesses in our monsters, weaknesses in our facilities, anything that could give them an upper hand.
Itâs clear enough. Iâm worth more to the industry dead than alive at this point.
The ships that can afford to commission a Reckoner are safe to carry the most valuable goods and people across the NeoPacific. Kill the monster,
Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton