He has timed it correctly. Tangled in the net, she spins and bucks at it, but does not see the harpoon coming. It drives into her ribs with enough force to knock her back and my eardrums split at her shrieks of pain.

The sea boils as she spins and flails. Sea spray drenches the men as they cast more nets and fling their spears. The spray blooms red with her blood.

The churning stops and the water stills. The men hurrah in victory and Gunther barks at them to reel in his catch. Hand-over-hand, they draw their harpoon lines to bring the prize to the surface. Looking into the water, I can see a hazy form grow as it rises directly under me. It slithers between my legs like a lover and breaks topside, her belly rolling to the sun. The men keep pulling, dragging their vessels closer to their catch. To a man, they all sport a hungry, greedy fire in their eyes.

It is all a ruse. She rights herself, locks eyes on me for a single heartbeat, and then dives hard below. Three men are jerked clean into the water. One boat pitches badly and overturns at the violence of her plunge. Gunther hacks his tow line with a machete and screams at the others to do the same before she pulls them all under.

The men in the water, Sligo and Horst, and another man I do not know, swim for the nearest boat. Their fellows try to haul them in, only to have each man ripped from their hands. The water roils like a boiling cauldron and the men in the water cry out in terror at the thing circling beneath them. Each one shrieks, bobbing in their own blood as the monster ravages them. Gunther fires another harpoon at the creature and Ulric slashes the water with his cutlass, but both are powerless to stop the slaughter. The screams of the dying men cease as severed limbs and bloodied torsos roll to the surface.

I swim for the pier with the curses of the fishermen in my ears as they stab and slash impotently at the water. One skiff is capsized, and another punctured through the hull, sinking quickly. These men wail in terror as they join their comrades in the red surf. Yet one vessel skims past me as I drive hard for the dock.

Gunther thunders at Osk and Brom to row like hell because the very devil herself is coming for their souls. The sloop is almost to the pier when a torrent of spray erupts under them, sending all three into the drink. I cannot see them flailing in the chop, but I hear their agonized screams as the creature goes after them. I claw the waves like a madman until I feel solid stone in my grip.