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“W
e can still keep trying.”

Val stood on the dock, looking down at Sturman. He remained in the stern of his boat. His arms were crossed, his face unreadable. It was just after dawn on a summer Saturday. The marina harbor was beginning to bustle with activity.

“To find the shoal, I mean. Not to—”

“I know what you mean.”

“Just because the government has its own plans doesn’t mean we can’t keep doing our own thing. Come on, Will. You don’t strike me as a man who cares what the hell other people want him to do, anyway.” She smiled at him. He didn’t smile back.

She still sensed the same anger in him, but something had changed in him—his eyes were distant. He wasn’t looking at her, but
through
her. He turned away from her to scratch his dog’s ears. She knew he was struggling with what to say.

“I think we should just let Montoya and the others handle this,” he finally said. “It’s their responsibility.”

She hadn’t wanted to leave the boat, but Sturman had made up his mind at first light and headed straight across the channel for the coast. He had dumped her and her gear at the crowded dock in Newport Beach, the closest major harbor on the mainland. The halogen lights, now off in the morning sun, remained attached to his boat, because both realized they were too bulky to simply leave on the dock with her.

“Are you sure? You won’t reconsider? I mean, what are you planning to do now?”

“I figured I’d take a few days off. Head back over to Catalina, maybe visit a few other Channel Islands while I’m in the neighborhood.”

“And after that?”

Sturman looked up at her. He spoke in a low voice. “Why you askin’ so many questions? What does it matter to you?”

“Don’t act that way. Look, I know last night was uncomfortable, but we can—”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re wasting your time.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit look, Sturman. You’re not going to stare me down like I’m some goddamn ensign in the Navy. I thought we were doing all right. I’m sorry for what I said.” She paused, then shook her head. “You know what? I’m not sorry. You need to get over it, and get on with your life. Stop wallowing in grief and drowning your sorrows in alcohol. If you did, you might find that there are people who care about you, you big slob.”

A man with a fishing pole walked up and stopped next to Val.

“Can I help you?” She glared at the man.

“I just need to get past you, if that’s okay . . . ?”

“Nobody’s stopping you.” She made no effort to step aside as the man squeezed around her on the dock. She continued facing Sturman, hands on her hips, waiting for a response. There was none.

“So that’s it. Okay. Well, good luck, Sturman. Maybe someday I’ll see you again.”

He said, “I’ll ship the lights to you in Monterey when I have the chance.”

“I hope one day you’re happy again.”

Sturman nodded almost imperceptibly. “Good luck. With . . . everything.”

She watched him start the engine, unfasten the nylon ropes from the dock cleats, and slowly make his way out of the harbor. Even though he had made sure a taxi van was coming to pick up her and her gear, she felt utterly abandoned. The powerful emotion puzzled her.

She watched as he headed around a bend into the main channel of the harbor. Bud ran to the back of the boat and looked back at her, whining and barking. Underneath the dun-colored dog, the name of the boat burned itself into Val’s memory.

Sturman never looked back, and then he was gone.

W
hen Bobby Flynt walked out of the yacht’s stateroom, zipping up his fly, that’s when the drugs really began to kick in.

He wasn’t sure if it had been a good idea to mix blow and Ecstasy, but at the moment he didn’t care. The electronic dance music blasting down from above-deck pulsed through him. He could actually
feel
the music. He smiled at the thought, utterly euphoric. He loved his life.

The twenty-two-year-old had become an overnight success in Hollywood after starring in a summer blockbuster two years ago. He had played the lead, a vampire who led a group of youthful, impossibly attractive vampires against an army of demons sent from hell to claim what remained of their souls. Teenage girls around the world loved it, and worshipped Bobby and his classic good looks and dark hair. Before that, he’d just been a nobody from Ohio who’d been fighting to land acting roles as he shared a one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles and worked regular hours cohosting a children’s television show.

But that was two years ago. He slid his fingers along the polished cherrywood paneling in the yacht’s main dining room as he strolled toward the stern, indulging in its rich feel. This boat was
his.
So was a sick pad back in Palos Verdes.
And the girls.
He didn’t technically own them, but he sure got to use them. Man, he’d only just met the blond girl he’d banged in his stateroom. She was from Germany or something. He’d been too messed up to care, but she had a sexy accent and big tits.

Flynt opened the door to the rear of the cabin and stepped up into a wave of stimuli that overwhelmed his Ecstasy-fueled senses. The pulsing bass pounded through his body, mixed with the smell of salt, the feel of cool night air on his skin, the laughter of the partiers. And a light show was erupting from glowing jewelry hanging off thirty or forty groupies, all rich SoCal kids and wannabe actors.

An hour ago, the cheap glowing necklaces and bracelets had simply been a fun gimmick to add to the yacht party, but now they were almost magical as he watched them move rhythmically back and forth on the dancers’ swinging wrists and swaying bodies, leaving behind glowing trails of green, orange, and purple that were temporarily burned into his retina. The stern was packed with people.

Flynt’s seventy-five-foot toy, named after his first big film, was drifting off the calm southern coast of Catalina Island. His captain knew better than to moor the yacht in Avalon Harbor—Flynt’s parties got very noisy, and he preferred to avoid unwanted attention from both the law and nosy rich people with yachts of their own, who always tried to drop by on their dinghies to join the party.

Flynt could easily make out the big island’s silhouette despite only a sliver of a moon in the night sky. They were adrift about a half-mile from shore. The dark bulk of Catalina’s mountainous flanks stood out against the brighter sky, which glowed artificially from the lights of shore that were muted by the humid air.

“Fernando, gin and tonic!” Flynt had to shout to be heard over the pounding music, but this was how he liked it.

After his bartender mixed the drink, he took a sip and then slowly moved through the crowd toward the upper deck, delighted by the sensations on his skin as he brushed his arms against the other bodies crowding the boat. He was especially pleased when some of the naughtier girls ran their hands through his thick hair or touched him suggestively as he passed. Already he felt himself becoming aroused again. He’d have to pick another girl soon to christen another part of the boat. So far he’d done it in all but one of the staterooms and most of the common areas.

He made his way up to the top of the yacht, where the captain stood in the darkness in front of a lit helm, sipping a cup of coffee.

“
Hola
, Leonard!”

“Good evening, Mr. Flynt. Enjoying the party?”

“You know it, man. There’s just one thing missing.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“We gotta have the hull lights, Lenny!”

“Of course, sir.”

The captain reached to the dimly lit dashboard and found the proper switch. Immediately, the water around the sides of the boat lit up. Whenever Bobby could see into the clear water under the boat, he felt like he was flying instead of floating.

“
Gracias, capitán
! Now our underwater friends can join us.”

He wandered over to the top railing, looking down as the first visitors began to flash silver as they darted through the brightly lit water.

 

 

The shoal first felt distant vibrations.

As they hung silently in the blackness a hundred feet down, the deep, low sounds pulsed regularly, quickly, through the squids’ bodies in waves. Instinct told them this was not a known threat. Instead, the vibrations were somewhat familiar, similar to other sounds that they now associated with food.

One by one, members of the huge shoal gradually turned to follow the enormous assemblage of mollusks, some of which had immediately turned to seek out the source of the vibrations. Even though the shoal had diminished in size, with many of the smaller individuals having been consumed by their own, several hundred feet separated the lead individuals from those trailing at the end of the underwater armada.

Moving their torpedo-like bodies with perfect efficiency through the dark ocean depths, the squid soon began to sense yellowish lights ahead, shining deep into the water from near the source of the vibrations.

Yet as the shoal neared, the one-eyed female banked around the bright lights, which shone with a painful, unnatural intensity. Circling the underwater lights, she saw many smaller prey fishes darting within the cones of light. A large, inert object floated at the center of the white lights.

Frustrated, she remained with the rest of the shoal as it kept its distance, seeking a way to approach the prey gathered around this source of sound and light.

 

 

Captain Leonard Dawkins regarded the young owner of the yacht he skippered. Bobby Flynt sat alone on the top of his toy, legs dangling through the railing. His employer was clearly high, as usual, watching the multitude of small creatures that had gathered in the lights embedded in the hull. Often when Dawkins turned on the lights, the actor would take a break from his party to simply get lost in all the aquatic life that was attracted to the vessel. At these times the captain could see how sad and lonely the kid really was. Dawkins knew Bobby had no idea that his captain was looking at him now, his pale blue eyes transfixed as they were on the water below.

Captain Dawkins had often wondered what it was like to own a grand vessel like this, to have so many people who called themselves your friends simply because you showed them a good time, to have beautiful young women throw themselves at your feet. He saw this all the time. He’d been a professional captain on many Hollywood yachts over the years. It paid pretty well to be a captain for hire in Southern California, and beat having a desk job.

Dawkins shook his head and looked away from the young actor. Bobby wasn’t a bad kid—he didn’t appear to have a mean bone in his body—but the captain knew how this would turn out. No matter how much money, fame, and sex these guys got, he had seen them all become unhappy. Yes, he wanted a yacht of his own someday—a real boat, not just a little twenty-two-foot fishing boat like he had now—so he could travel the world with his wife. Maybe his two daughters could join them for a leg of the trip, if they had careers then that would allow it. True happiness didn’t come from bedding a lot of women who cared nothing for you, or from six- or seven-figure paychecks. If he ever needed proof, all he had to do was look at people like Bobby.

“Mr. Flynt, may I ask what you’re doing?” The young man had stood and was leaning over the railing, staring intently into the water below.

“The fish are gone. I need to find them!” he shouted back at the captain over the loud music. The actor was taking off his shoes, one at a time. He grinned at the captain.

Dawkins glanced down into the ocean. Flynt was right—he no longer noticed any fish in the hull lights. But his employer was his foremost concern.

“Sir?”

“It’s a beautiful evening, anyway, Captain! I thought I might go for a swim. Maybe I can find the fish.”

“Sir, we’re over a kilometer from shore, and—”

“Lenny, stop worrying so much. Look how amazingly calm it is. I want to be in the water now!”

Dawkins watched as Bobby downed the rest of his drink, then stripped down to his boxer shorts and stepped over the railing, a leg at a time. He paused, holding on to the railing behind his knees, to shout down into the party below in the stern.

“Anyone want to get in the pool with me?”

A few girls shouted incoherently back over the music; then Dawkins watched Bobby dive with surprising grace off the upper deck into the water below. A single small fish darted off in the clear water as his body broke the surface.

Dawkins didn’t like having his passengers swim in open water, especially at night, because of the unknown risks at sea and the very real chance that one of the intoxicated swimmers might drown, or get accidentally left behind if they got too far from the boat. He knew it was senseless to try and stop the other revelers that were now shedding clothes on the bottom deck, though. He needed this job, and as sickening as it was, young Master Flynt was in charge here.

As Dawkins counted the splashes of other people entering the ocean, a statuesque brunette climbed to the top deck and walked past him. She smiled as she pulled her sundress over her head to reveal a beaded necklace dangling between firm breasts against her taut abdomen. Wearing only yellow thong panties, she jumped feetfirst off the top of the yacht with a scream, nearly landing on the swimmers below. After a few minutes, more than a dozen partiers had entered the water to join their host, as the other fifteen or twenty passengers looked on, laughing. Dawkins couldn’t be sure exactly how many had gone in now. Despite the chaotic situation, at least Dawkins was able to see the swimmers in the bright hull lights.

The tall brunette swam over to Flynt, and they coupled and kissed, oblivious to the others around them. Dawkins thought sadly that she looked a lot like his oldest daughter, and wondered if she too was chasing movie stars when he wasn’t around. She did have her own place, after all, and—

“Lenny!” Bobby was shouting up at him.

“Sir? Are you all right?”

Bobby laughed as the brunette clinging to him kissed his face and neck hungrily. “It’s a little too bright down here, Lenny! Think we can get some privacy?”

“Sir?”

“The lights, captain. Turn off the lights!”

“But sir—”

“You don’t want everybody gawking at these poor, exposed women, do you?”

Several men on the boat yelled in opposition to Flynt’s request as the nude women in the water screamed and giggled. The captain shook his head and reached down to the dashboard switch. He paused, then pressed it down. Around the yacht, the water went dark.

Despite the pulse of the deafening music, Dawkins could still hear the shouts and screams of the partiers. And in the dark water next to the boat, at least he could see the eerie, moving glow of the chemically lit jewelry some of the guests were wearing.

He’d leave the lights off just for a few minutes. He didn’t want to upset Flynt, who was as spoiled as any young celebrity with sudden money and fame, but he didn’t want to risk anyone getting hurt, either. Yes, it was an unusually calm night. These situations had a way of luring one into a false sense of security, however. The captain knew very well that accidents happened when intoxicated people went swimming. No matter what the petulant brat wanted, he wasn’t going to compromise everyone’s safety. His hand hovered over the switch for the hull lights, then withdrew.

Just a few minutes. Then he’d turn the lights back on and make everyone get back on board.

 

 

With the bright lights gone, the shoal closed toward the prey in the water.

As it had encircled the boat, most of the smaller fish had left the bright lights and gathered into a tight ball several fathoms underneath the floating hulk—still too close to the lights for the shoal to approach—in a defensive formation. Now, with the lights extinguished, the squid hurried in to snatch up the small fish swarming in confusion as they were attacked from every direction. A few of the fish darted for the surface, from where now came an irresistible glow.

The one-eyed female felt deep vibrations emanating from the large object ripple through her soft body, mixed with fainter vibrations from the splashing of the smaller living things around it on the surface. The shoal had consumed the swirling ball of fish under the object in an instant. Now, as the eyes of a thousand of its members quickly adjusted to the darkness, it surged upward toward the larger prey. The ravenous female avoided the nondescript bulk of the larger object to focus on the irresistible glowing lights emitting from the beings moving on the surface around it.

This time the squid did not hesitate to attack. They were no longer unsure of these strange creatures—they posed little threat and provided ample sustenance. The huge, scarred female was the first to seize one of the quarry. She easily dragged it below the surface, joined by several smaller members of the shoal.

The other squid rushed up to meet the warm, blood-rich prey in the dark water, seizing each thrashing individual in many sets of arms and tentacles and dragging them into the deep.

The one-eyed female moved in to clasp one of the creatures, with two of her brothers closing the distance with her. As her companions seized the kicking legs of the creature and began to pull it under the surface, she moved toward its head to find purchase on the body. The animal turned to face her underwater. The large female paused as her black eye met those of her prey. It did not struggle, but reached an appendage slowly toward her, extending what appeared to be a set of smaller tentacles. The massive female hovered motionless next to the submerged prey as it now began to touch her own flesh, gently running its own small appendages along her body. The eyes of the creature widened and its white teeth showed in a small arc.