Carpathia (9 page)

  "Trust me," Quin said. "You have to trust me."

  Abe hesitated. Quin could tell he wanted nothing more than to leap straight out of the water and thrash the men on top of the lifeboat within inches of their lives – and then knock them another yard past that. Abe glared at him with naked hatred for getting between himself and the objects of his fury, but Quin refused to flinch or turn away.

  "Fine." Abe shrugged out of Quin's grasp. He stared up at the boat with sullen, heavy-lidded eyes, but he spoke to Quin. "Let's try it your way – for once."

  Quin swam away from the boat, back in the direction of the mass of people struggling to survive in the churning froth of water where the
Titanic
had gone down. Abe followed after him, but as he went, he called back to the boat. "I hope you realize I'll be forced to write a sternly worded letter to the president of the White Star line!"

  No one – not even Abe – laughed.

  Once they were twenty yards away, Quin hauled up short and waited for Abe to catch up with him. "All right," Abe said. "Spotlight's on you, my friend. What's your plan?"

  Quin pointed back at the boat. "There's space on the other side, and no one there guarding it. We just need to get there."

  "And how do you propose we do that?" Abe said.

  "They're watching us. Hell, they're watching all around. There's no way to get around them."

  "True," Quin said, jerking his head toward the boat. "But we can still get under them."

  Abe nodded as he considered the plan. "Under normal circumstances, it might work, but – well, I don't know about you, but I'm knackered. I might be able to make it to the other side of the boat, but I'll come up gasping so hard, they'll be on us in an instant."

  "Right," Quin said. "But we don't have to make it all the way to the other side of the boat. We can stop for a break along the way."

  "You happen to have a diving bell and an airline down there? You've been holding out on me."

  "Not necessary," Quin said. "What do you think is holding up that boat those men are guarding so well?"

  An impressed grin split Abe's face wide. Quin basked in it for a moment, knowing full well how hard it was to get such a response from his sometimes jaded friend. He tried to avoid wondering if it might be the last time he ever saw it again.

  "Exactly," Abe said. "So, we dive down and swim for the underside of the boat. Then we wait there in the air pocket for a moment and gather our strength."

  "From there, it should be simple enough to slip around to the other side of the boat and from there onto the dry side of it."

  "Here's hoping." Abe grabbed him around the back of the neck. "You ready?"

  "I don't think it's going to get any easier if we wait," Quin said. As he did, he noticed that the screams and cries for help from the people drowning behind them had already started to fade.

 
 

 
 
 

Brody smiled to himself as he swam through the icy waters, unaffected by their temperatures in the slightest. Although he no longer required the oxygen, he had enough air in his lungs to lend his body the perfect level of buoyancy. It kept him just beneath the ocean's surface without causing him to sink like a stone to the abyssal depths below.

  The waters around where the
Titanic
sank had stabilized now, and he no longer feared that he or any of the others would be sucked down after the ship as had happened with Brigid. The sea still foamed from the thrashing limbs of those who'd survived the sinking of the great ship – at least for now. Those poor souls beat at the waters incessantly, struggling to keep themselves afloat in waters so cold that Brody had no doubt every one of them would freeze before help from the
Carpathia
or any other ship might be able to arrive.

  That only gave Brody and his compatriots a short window of time in which they could grab themselves a fresh, hot meal though. He'd told the rest of them to leave the lifeboats alone, which only left the people who'd fallen into the drink available to them for their repast. They'd fed on a number of these people, and it had been as simple as crossing the street.

  All they'd had to do was yank someone underwater before they could send up a cry for help. And even if someone did start to scream for aid, what difference would it make? In the heart of this incredible disaster, that just made for one more voice added to the hellish choir.

  The four of them had gorged themselves on blood, blood, and more blood, each bit of it tainted with the sweet tang of adrenaline shot through the victims' systems by the many horrors visited upon them that night. They would each have been covered with it, but for the fact that the ocean diluted whatever they didn't manage to consume.

  Brody had rarely felt so vibrant, so young, not since he'd died in that back alley in Dublin so many years ago. The flood of fresh blood in his belly sang through him, causing him to tingle from his head to his toes. Although it still passed for a pale excuse for the sensations of the living, it sent thrill after thrill through him as he dispatched one victim after another.

  At one point in the feast, Brody had wound up floating on his back in the middle of the chaos, content as a swimmer soaking up the rays near a sunny beach. He'd just laid there for many long minutes, digesting the blood in his belly and enjoying the terror reigning around him. He only stopped when a woman swam up to him and grabbed onto him, thinking him to be something she could use to help her stay afloat.

  She'd been disappointed – and delicious.

  Later, Brody met up with Siobhan, whose skin glowed with stolen life. "Now that we're fat and happy," she said to him, "what do you say about having some fun?"

  "I dare you to tell me of a time at which you've had more fun." She just giggled at him and swam away, daring him to try to keep up with her.

  He managed to do that when she hauled up short only a few yards away from a capsized lifeboat. A group of men clustered on top of the overturned craft, some of them half dead, others all the way there.

  Siobhan pointed to them. "You said to keep away from the people in the lifeboats," she said. "Does that one qualify?"

  Brody rubbed his chin. "Well, it is a lifeboat," he said, "no matter what condition it might be in. I believe that prudence would tell us to leave it alone."

  "Prudence?" Siobhan laughed. "Is that your pet name for Dushko these days?"

  "He is not
my
master." Brody spoke without a trace of amusement in his voice. "If he were, do you think we'd be out here right now, doing this?"

  "But you still follow his orders?"

  "His suggestions don't lack all merit, do they?" Brody said. "Believe what you like, not everything the man believes is as ridiculous as he is."

  Siobhan snickered. "Those people are as good as dead anyhow, right? Hell, some of them already are, from the look of them. They won't last the night, none of them."

  Brody cracked a smile, then winked at the lass. "Fair enough," he said, "but let's not be so crass about it. In fact, let's make a game of it."

  "There's my sport." Siobhan reached out and caressed Brody's cheek. Her skin burned hot from the fresh blood coursing through it, and the sensation sent a thrill through his entire body. She smiled at him, baring her beautiful fangs.

  Brody motioned for Siobhan to follow him, then grabbed a breath for buoyancy and slipped back under the water's surface. Moving deep enough that he was concealed from view, he made for the boat with long, lazy strokes. He had no reason to hurry. His belly was full, and their dessert wouldn't be going anywhere soon.

  And they had hours until the dawn.

  Brody glanced back to see Siobhan close behind him. She gave him a little wave, and he turned back to the project at hand. He came up under the boat and spotted two pairs of legs dangling underneath it.

  These legs still moved with vigor, and Brody considered taking each of the men attached to them down one at a time. No one would miss them, he knew. But no one would hear them scream either, and where was the fun in that?

  Brody had taken enough of the easy prey. He craved something with a bit more challenge to it – something that would ratchet up the survivors' terror to an even higher level. He pointed at Siobhan and motioned for her to stay over on the near side of the overturned lifeboat, still deep enough to be out of sight of the men above. She nodded her understanding to him.

  From there, Brody moved around the boat and came up toward the surface on the other side. He gave himself a bit of room to move and build up some speed, then swam toward the boat's gunwale as hard as he could. He struck the edge of the boat and bumped it hard, right along the edge farthest from where the
Titanic
had disappeared.

  Shouts of dismay came from above, and then Brody received the reward he'd expected for his actions, or at least hoped for: a heavy splash. One of the men who'd been staring back at the
Titanic
and waving an oar at anyone foolhardy enough to approach had fallen into the drink.

  Brody dove deep then, avoiding the men hiding under the boat for whatever odd reason they might have had. By the time he came up on the other side, Siobhan already had a hold of the man's leg. She had torn off the leg of his pants, and as Brody watched she drove her fangs deep into his calf.

  As Brody had hoped, Siobhan had allowed the man's head to remain just above the water. When she bit into him, he screamed in agony and terror, and the men still on top of the overturned lifeboat answered him with their own cries of dismay.

  Siobhan didn't drink deep from her victim's leg. Instead, she tore his flesh away with a wrench of her powerful jaws. He screamed again, and blood poured from the gaping wound she'd left behind, clouding the water around them with fresh, hot blood.

  The precious fluid emerged from the man like a black cloud illuminated by what faint, silvery starlight could penetrate this deep into the water. Like a squid's ink, it billowed out fast and served to conceal the actions of those hiding inside it. Brody and Siobhan, though, had no plans to flee. Not yet.

  Brody yanked on the man's leg and pulled him under the water. The man's screams turned to horrified gurgles as he tried to draw another breath to voice his protest and sucked in water rather than air. Brody gave Siobhan a gentle push away then, and they both released the man.

  Despite his ugly wound and the suffocating water in his lungs, the man had a lot of fight in him yet. He kicked his way back to the surface and let out a horrible bellow sure to shake the soul of anyone who heard it. "Help me!" he shouted. "Shark! Shark!"

  Brody's little game had gone as well as he could have hoped, but he wasn't done with the man yet. He reached up and grabbed the man by his belt. He gave him just an instant to snatch a final breath and then pulled his victim under.

  The man came back down into the water clouded with his own still-gushing blood, and Brody let him see his face. The man's eyes bulged in uncomprehending shock. He'd expected to find a shark chewing him to pieces, after all, and here he'd found a youthful Irishman instead.

  Brody wondered if the man might think he was there to save him. To sink that hope deeper than the
Titanic
itself, he opened his mouth and bared his long, sharp fangs.

  The man struggled as hard as he could, but he could not break Brody's grip on his belt. He thrust out his fists, trying to punch Brody's face, but the water between the two rendered his blows useless. Brody allowed himself a short laugh as he held the desperate man there and waited for him to die.

  Siobhan wasn't willing to be so patient though. She came up behind the man and wrapped her arms around him like a long-lost love. Then she sank her fangs straight into his naked throat.

  Brody allowed Siobhan to enjoy herself as she drank her fill from the man's severed arteries. When she was done – which did not take long, as she'd already gorged herself on several others – she let the man go and gave him a gentle push toward Brody.

  Brody got under the man's belly and gave him a shove toward the surface. He came up out of the water just enough to let loose a wet and horrible death rattle. Brody held him there long enough for the men atop the lifeboat to see the ruin that Siobhan had made of his neck.

  Then he yanked him back under the water again.

 
 

 
 
 

Quin dove as deep as he could and swam straight for the collapsible lifeboat. He could still see the starlight filtering through the water overhead, and the lifeboat floated up there on the surface like a black cloud blotting out part of the sky. As cold as he was, Quin found it harder to hold his breath as long as he would have liked, and he struggled to reach the lifeboat before he ran out of oxygen.

  When he emerged underneath the boat, gasping for air, the first thing that popped into his head was that as hard as getting under the boat had been, it had been like strolling along the Promenade Deck when compared with being dumped into the sea from the Boat Deck. Abe broke the surface next to him a moment later. It was too dark under the boat for either of them to see each other, but he recognized his friend's voice when he spoke.

  "I don't know how much more of this… I can take."

  Quin shushed him and whispered. "If they figure out we're down here, they'll be looking for us when we come up."

  "All right," Abe said, his voice much softer. "Just let me catch my breath."

  They remained there for several minutes in the pitch dark, the icy water slapping against them. Quin reached up and grabbed onto the overturned seats above his head and hung there, grateful to not have to tread water any longer. He heard Abe do the same.