Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

grand words, they creep to the door together. Toraf presses his ear against the crackled white paint. He signals to Galen that each pulse is on opposite sides of the building. If Musa really is in on a trap, this would be a good strategy. To come at them from both sides.
    They wait several more seconds, listening for any small sound, any echo of movement inside. Toraf shakes his head.
    Galen nods to Woden. The young Tracker rears back and throws his weight behind his shoulder as he rams into the door. It gives immediately.
    Galen’s instinct is that Jagen made it too easy to enter. Not locking the door is practically an invitation. Sure, it’s unlikely Jagen would even have experience with using a human lock. But given the circumstances—that Jagen’s rescue is more of a capture and by now he probably knows it—Galen is sure he would have at least blocked the entrance. He isn’t foolish enough to flee; he obviously accepts that Galen would catch him within seconds. But that he’s desperate enough to stay, to take his chances with whoever comes through the door … Not good.
    “Get down!” Galen yells. But Woden is already down.
    So the harpoon meant for Woden hits Toraf instead. It catches his side and tears through it, almost turning him around in place. Jagen has planned well; he has obviously scavenged for as many weapons as he could find. The old harpoon gun is replaced by another one—and it’s aimed to strike Galen through the heart. The close range guarantees instant death.
    That is, if Jagen had time to release it. Galen slams into him, the harpoon shooting with a pft into the thatch roof. Together, they crash into the back wall of the building as one mass. The wood creaks, flimsy against the blunt force. All around them the frame of the building moans, threatening to collapse on them. It has already taken a battering from the waves Galen and Rayna made. It won’t last much longer.
    But Galen doesn’t care.
    Jagen almost succeeds in wresting control of the harpoon, but Galen gives it a vicious twist and presses the rod to the traitor’s throat. If Jagen were human, it would cut off his air.
    And Jagen’s age is already telling. Galen is able to hold the harpoon rod against him with one hand. With the other, he reaches for the human utility belt strapped around Jagen’s waist. Jagen squirms away, but Galen is able to grab the knife from its Velcro holster.
    Jagen’s eyes go wide as oysters. “You wouldn’t. The law—”
    “The law?” Galen snarls. “Now you want to hide behind the law? You must be joking.” Out of the corner of his eye, Galen catches a glimpse of a human man tied to a chair behind the desk. Long dead. Guilt picks at his conscience like scavengers on a carcass. Did the waves kill him? Or did Jagen? But he won’t—can’t—give Jagen the luxury of a second glance. The human is already dead. There is nothing he can do about it now. Except …
    Galen raises the blade above him.
    Jagen closes his eyes. His trembling body suddenly sags, the harpoon the only thing holding his chin up.
    The knife comes down, swift and sure and angry. With decisive, fluid movements, the human belt is off Jagen’s waist, and tied around his wrists. The blade clinks to the floor with finality. If only it really were over. “If Toraf dies,” Galen growls, cinching the belt to a painful tight, “I swear I’ll drag your body to the Tomb Chamber myself.”
    Jagen nearly crumbles with relief. He doesn’t deserve relief. He deserves to be afraid. He deserves to pay for all the pain he’s caused me and my family. Galen is startled from his fury by Grom’s pulse. His brother is on the other side of the room, helping Woden untie Musa from some netting. In all truthfulness, Galen had forgotten about her. He’d been so focused on Jagen and Toraf that—
    “Toraf,” Galen blurts.
    Grom nods. “He’ll be fine. Rayna is tending to him. Nalia said his organs weren’t hit, but he’s in and out of consciousness because he’s lost a lot of blood. He’s in good spirits.”
    Of course he is. He’s probably in a state of glee right now, hoarding all of Rayna’s attention to himself. Galen almost cracks a grin, but something about Grom’s expression is not right. Securing the building is not the job of a Triton king. There are plenty of Trackers and hunters who can just as easily—and with less risk—help Musa from her bindings. Why is Grom here?
    Galen swallows the bile as Woden tugs Jagen