Venom: A Thriller in Paradise (The Thriller in Paradise Series Book 3) Read Online Free

a he?” Chazz leaned back and stretched his shoulders.
    She smiled. “What’s it like down there?” She looked across him at the distant shore. Twin ribbons of crimson lava from this latest eruption of Kilauea still flowed sluggishly into the ocean. An enormous cloud of steam and vapor writhed like angry ghosts where the molten rock met the water. They could hear, even this far away, the roar of heated water, supported by the largo rhythm of the surf.
    “Eerie,” Chazz said briefly. “The rock cools then cracks open, and more lava oozes out. It looks organic, alive. Very weird.” He leaned forward and peered into the bucket. “What shall we call him?”
    Patria laughed. “See, there you go. It’s a he, just as I said.”
    “All right, all right I’ve never had to sex an octopus before. What’s his name?”
    “You’re the one asking all the questions, Socrates. You tell me.”
    “All right. If I’m Socrates, then he’s my Plato.”
    “Great. Plato the Octopus.”
    Chazz rubbed his salty beard where it itched. “Well, let’s get started. As you said, Orli will be missing us.”
    “Actually, she’s still asleep.” Patria looked slyly at her husband. “But I have an interview later with a kahuna over near Hookena. So maybe we’d better go wake her up so I can feed her.”
    Chazz nodded and waved at Sy, who was lounging in the bow. Sy waved back and started hauling up the anchor, while Jack started the engine. Soon they were headed toward shore.
    It was one of those perpetually flawless days when nothing could possibly go wrong. The air was warm, the breeze was refreshing, not too hot, too cool, too brisk or too slack. The water was smooth, the swells long and languorous. The peaks of Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea were free of clouds. Only the lava flow disturbed the almost surreal tranquility of the scene, and that was a distant hint of exotic color where it traced a thin red line down the blackened lava slopes. From time to time, it surrounded a living tree, which soundlessly exploded into smoke and steam, a small punctuation mark against the vivid backdrop.
    They were still far enough away that the small village was invisible against the shore. Gradually, the white houses took form, small at first, but growing. Patria, leaning into the wind, her dark short hair sculpted against the fine bones of her skull, was smiling. Chazz, watching her, felt his heart lurch. She had resisted having a child, had not wanted to interrupt her career, and now they had Orli, still small as an otter and as hungry.
    Chazz lowered his arm into the bucket. Plato reached a tentative tip toward it, curled around his finger and tugged gently. Chazz tugged back, and suddenly Plato let go. His tentacle rapped the side of the plastic bucket. “Did that hurt?” Chazz murmured.
    “What happened to him?” Patria was leaning next to him, her head close to his.
    “The rock shifted when the lava face split and he caught a tentacle. I almost didn’t make it.”
    “Is he hurt?”
    “I don’t know. I thought not, but he acts as if it’s tender. Perhaps it’s bruised, if octopuses get bruised.”
    “He sure likes you. Look.”
    Plato had reached out again and locked one tentacle around Chazz’s fingers. Another followed, softly tugging at him with his suckers. “You know, they’re supposed to be as smart as cats.”
    “How smart is that?” She was laughing at him again.
    “Pretty smart for somebody with no bones.”
    “So. Bones are now a prerequisite for intelligence. New scientific theory, Doctor Koenig?”
    “Bones do allow for most of the behavior we consider intelligent. Dancing, for example, a near-impossibility without bones. Or dipping snuff…”
    “You could do that without bones.”
    “All right, but bones are important, anyway, and I think it’s remarkable that Plato doesn’t have any and is still so brilliant.”
    “You just think he’s brilliant because he likes you.”
    “Okay, okay, enjoyable as all this