Page 3 of Echo and the Homicidal Sea Panda

If he had to guess, the orca had been at least thirty feet long, one of the biggest Echo had ever seen—not that he’d seen many up close. Dolphinkind steered clear of their cousins, the orca, for good reason.

They didn’t want to end up like that shark.

Echo looked over his shoulder and didn’t see any signs of being followed—that was, until a massive black dorsal fin emerged from the surface. He pushed the boat faster, not sure his ancient engine could handle it for long. It had to, though. Echo needed to get back to dolphin waters where he’d be safe, though if he were honest with himself, safe was an illusion. If the orca wanted to follow him, it would. He’d have to hope it would follow the treaty—when he hadn’t—and turn back instead.

He got his boat up to twenty miles an hour, but it wasn’t enough. Orcas swam upwards of thirty-five and could hold that pace for hours. As if proving that very fact, the beast leapt over his boat again, toying with him.

As soon as Echo crossed the boundary, he whipped a head over his shoulder, begging for his ordeal to be over.

The orca followed him across it.

Fuck.

Dry land was his only hope. Echo’s heart nearly beat out of his chest. The second he rounded the outcropping of rock marking the entrance into the bay, he saw the lights of Dolphin Bay in the distance. He choked back a sob. Smoke erupted from his engine, but he couldn’t slow down.

He came into the harbor at too high a speed and nearly sideswiped another boat docked in the outer row of slips. Coming into his, he hit the wooden pier and heard the crunch of wood and fiberglass. He vaulted from the boat without tethering it and ran for shore—his long hair wrapped around his neck and dripping icy water down his naked back.

The second his feet were on solid ground, he spun. The massive dorsal fin sat unmoving in the water near his boat. He gasped for air, his heart pumping so fast he was sure it might explode.

Leave…

Please…

A few more seconds passed before the orca turned and swam away. Echo watched until he saw it leave the harbor and then fell to his knees when his legs went out from under him. He collapsed onto the gravel, the rocks cutting into his bare bottom and the backs of his legs. The pain barely registered. Nor had the pain from the wound on his foot. His adrenalin was pumping so thick and heavy he probably wouldn’t have felt a gunshot blast to the chest.

He leaned over, pitching the contents of his stomach across the dead grass nearby. Gasping for air when he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled away from the rocks and the vomit and dropped onto the grass there, allowing himself to breathe. The moon stared down at him, but from much higher in the sky, it seemed.

The drama was over, and it no longer cared about him and his trespasses.

Echo wasn’t sure how long he lay there, naked and shaking, attempting to control himself and his emotions. It took longer than it should have. He’d known coming face-to-face with an orca had been a possibility when he’d crossed their barrier. Why had it stunned him so much for it to actually happen?

Maybe because it killed a great white shark in less than thirty seconds,the voice inside his head replied.

He scanned the bloody wound on his foot, glad to see it was already slowly stitching itself up. Thank heavens for rapid shifter healing, but he would need to clean it before the gash fully closed or he risked a nasty scar remaining. By morning, the wound would likely be gone.

The memory of the shark attack would not.

Echo limped back to his boat and boarded. He collected his wet clothing. After wringing them out, he dressed, still unsure if he was safe. He surveyed the surface while he drew the wet things over him. There were no signs of company.

Once he’d tied up the boat, he grabbed his maps and his grandfather’s journal along with his phone and backpack. Thankfully none of those had gotten soaking wet, as they’d been in the lockbox. He gave one last look over his shoulder before he stepped onto the dock. It wobbled a bit under his feet, and he knew there was likely a massive repair bill coming—for both the slipandhis boat. Even with that massive full moon, it wasn’t bright enough to get a good look at the damage. Truth be told, he was too exhausted to care in that moment.

He wanted a shower and his bed—and hopefully sleep, which he wasn’t sure he’d get. He’d worry about repairs and broken treaties once he woke up.

Echo paused for one last glance out over the water, thankful he’d get the chance to wake up to a new day.

2

“What the hell did you do to causethatmuch damage?”

Echo rolled his eyes at the judgement in Hank’s voice. “The throttle stuck, and I came in too hot.”

“Too hot? Looks like you were on fire.” Hank sighed dramatically. “I estimate at least five hundred to repair the boat, about the same if you want me to overhaul that old engine, and twice that for the slip.”

Echo winced. “Never mind the engine. You can’t do the other repairs any cheaper?”

Silence hung on the line a few seconds. If it wasn’t for the distant clanging of the bells on the swaying boats in the harbor, he’d have thought Hank hung up on him.

“If I can get my nephew out here for the dock work, I might be able to cut it a bit, but not by much. That whole part of the pier needs to be replaced, including one of the dock posts. That’s not easy work, Echo. You slammed it and good.”

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