Adrian by Heather Grothaus Page B

hear that?”
    Maisie nodded.
    He seemed to concentrate on the sound, turning his head slightly away from her for a moment before muttering, “Change in water temperature, perhaps. Or depth.” His eyes flicked to her again, demanding an answer before his mouth could form the question. “Are we near the coast?”
    â€œWe are,” she said, content for the moment to continue watching him in peace. Likely the last peace she would know for some time.
    He nodded and returned his attention to the drawings.
    The howls grew incrementally louder as the minutes passed, and although to Maisie’s ears they were piercing, vicious screams, she knew they would sound much differently to Adrian.
    As if on prompt, he looked up again, his expression now more puzzled than annoyed.
    â€œWhat is that?” he insisted quietly and stood, the motion shoving the chair back and away from him. Maisie watched the way his body became attuned to the sound filtering through the cabin, the way his head cocked. He turned to her suddenly. “I want to go above.” And before she could answer him yes or no, he was striding across the floor and had gained the ladder.
    â€œYou canna,” she called out mildly, unconcerned for his safety. He would never be able to open the hatch until she bade it open.
    He tried anyway, jerking at the latch with frustrated grunts. “It’s stuck again,” he growled, backing down the ladder swiftly. “Where is the knife?”
    â€œThe knife didna open it last time and it willna open it now,” Maisie said, watching him as he strode toward the provisions trunk and dropped to one knee. He struggled similarly with that piece for several moments while the squeals grew louder in the close space, before shoving the heavy trunk away with a vicious curse. His growing distress was clear.
    â€œSit down, Adrian. We’ll land soon, and any discomfort you feel will be over.”
    But rather than heed her advice, his now wild eyes landed on the wooden chair he had so recently vacated. He seized the back of it and carried it toward the ladder, springing into a jog halfway across the floor. He drew the chair sideways over his head and flung it at the hatch with a shout.
    Maisie didn’t flinch as the chair broke into scores of pieces, but Adrian cried out in fury when he saw that the door was unscathed. As the screeches grew even louder, he clapped his palms over his ears and swung toward her, his face twisted in agonized ecstasy.
    â€œ What is it ?” he demanded again. “I must know!”
    â€œSirens,” Maisie replied, careful to meet his eyes directly.
    He winced, as if the answer confused him and the confusion brought him pain. “No.”
    She didn’t argue with him; it would do no good. The only way he would believe was to see the heartless creatures with his own eyes, and should that occur, his satisfaction would be short-lived before he met a grisly death.
    Then, suddenly, the song was gone, as if the cries were threads snipped off by a sharp blade. Adrian lowered his hands and blinked, his eyes dazed as they seemed to search the air above his head.
    â€œWhat happened?” he asked. “Where did it go?”
    Maisie closed her eyes. Please . . .
    A loud, hollow thump shook the crawler, the sound echoing as if a mighty drum had been struck. And then Maisie did flinch.
    They knew she was aboard.
    Another thump, then a pair, and then it was as if all the sounds of hell were unleashed on Maisie Lindsey’s vessel—the wails of the sirens returned with a blast as a thousand hammers seemed to pound the wood with the intention of destroying it.
    Maisie could imagine the cloudy-white hands beyond with their toothlike claws, beating on the hull of the crawler, seeking her.
    Adrian shouted something, but Maisie could not decipher his words through the thunder and piercing squeals. When two strong hands gripped her upper arms and shook her, she