Chapter 1

The day Xena Thompson came home, my seven-year-old son, Harry, and I were waiting for her at the entrance to the naval base.

The car door opened.

Harry ran toward her with a bouquet of flowers, shouting excitedly, "Mom!"

Xena stepped onto the concrete. She did not take the flowers or hug her son. Instead, she lowered her head and stared intently at a puddle beside her feet.

A light rain had fallen that morning, and the puddle reflected the gray sky. She stood motionless at its edge, seemingly unaware that mud and water were soaking the soles of her shoes.

The base personnel who had brought her home gently called her name, and only then did Xena slowly raise her head.

She looked at me, her lips cracked and pale. "What's today's date?"

I froze for a moment. "October 27th. Why?"

A hoarse gasp escaped her throat. "The night of the full moon. Six days left."

I had no idea what she meant.

When I pressed her for an explanation, she had already pushed open the front door and walked inside with a blank expression.

For our first meal together, I had made the chicken soup she used to love.

Harry thoughtfully brought her a glass of warm water and carefully held it out to her. "Here, Mom. Drink some water. Dad filled it up for you."

Xena stared down at the glass.

Without warning, she suddenly swung her right hand, knocking the glass out of his grasp. It crashed onto the tiled floor and shattered, sending hot water splashing across Harry's pants. Startled and frightened, he stumbled backward, then burst into tears.

Xena did not even glance at our son. She stormed into the kitchen, grabbed the pot of steaming chicken soup from the stove, and dumped the entire contents into the sink.

Then, she emptied the water from the kettle, the juice from the refrigerator, and every bottle of drinking water in the house. She poured out every last drop of fresh water as if she had completely lost her mind.

The water swirled down the drain and disappeared into the pipes.

She tore open a bag of coarse sea salt from the cupboard. Grabbing a handful of salt crystals, she shoved them straight into her mouth.

The hard crystals ground between her teeth. A thin streak of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth.

I rushed forward and grabbed her arm, trying to wrest the bag away from her. "Xena, what are you doing?"

She jerked free and turned to stare at the gurgling drain. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice rose to a shrill, almost unrecognizable pitch. "It's too fresh! The salinity is too low! It'll crush your body!"

Suddenly, the water purifier beneath the kitchen sink switched on by itself.

The pump inside began to vibrate with a low, heavy hum. Xena shuddered as if she had been electrocuted. She snatched up the iron wrench beside the cutting board and brought it crashing down on the purifier's plastic casing, repeating it again and again.

The casing split open. The filter cartridge tumbled out, and a small puddle of clear water spilled onto the floor.

She dropped the wrench and crouched amid the broken pieces, breathing in ragged gasps.

In the living room, Harry was crying so hard that he could barely catch his breath. I carried him into the spare bedroom and shut the door.

When I returned to the kitchen, Xena was still curled up in the corner. I crouched beside her and reached for her wrist. Her skin was freezing cold, like raw meat that had just been dragged out of a freezer.

Before I could touch her, she recoiled violently.

In our eight years of marriage, I had never seen her look at me with the kind of suspicion she might have shown an enemy.

"Xena, look at me." I forced down the chill creeping through my chest. "What was down there, ten thousand meters beneath the sea? What happened to you?"

Xena lowered her head and clenched her jaw so tightly that her teeth ground together.

After a long silence, her unfocused gaze drifted past my shoulder toward the gloomy sky outside. "I saw Leviathan."