Eye of the Tempest

He’s got his thumbs back! I thought, ecstatically.



Mmm. Thumbs, sighed my brain, as my libido contemplated everything it could do to with a man who wasn’t afraid to engage in a little opposable action…



“Can you drop me off over at his place?” I asked, as we walked over to where my dad had parked the car. I got in gingerly, aware of just how caked I was in mud and grit.



“No problem, if it’ll get the man to stop calling me. I’m grateful to him and all but it’s after three A.M.”



“I’m sorry to keep you up so late,” I said, automatically concerned for my dad’s health before I realized I didn’t have to be.



“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And for once I mean that. I feel amazing.”



My dad started the engine as I buckled up my seat belt, carefully balancing the labrys on my knees. It worked well if I let the handle dangle, with the curves of the ax head fitted over my thighs. My dad watched me, staring at the ax like it was a time bomb, and then buckled his own seat belt. After which, he turned to me.



“You know, this changes things, Jane. My being healthy.”



“Of course it does. It’s great.”



“No, I mean, not just for me. But for you, too.”



I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”



“I mean that you don’t have to worry about me so much. And you don’t have to… always be around.”



I tried to keep my voice light, but what he’d said had hurt. “Trying to get rid of me already?” I asked. “Don’t forget my ax,” I joked. It fell flat.



My father put his hand on my knee, lightly, below the ax blade. “No, Jane. You know I’d never want to be rid of you. You are, and always will be, my baby girl.”



I felt my eyes prickle with tears, but I held them back.



“But you’re also a woman, now. And you’ve spent too many years held back taking care of me. I know you had your own reasons, and I’ll always cherish the time we spent together. But I want you to know that I’ll understand, and support you, if you want to do something different now.”



“Something different?” I asked, unable to think of anything else to say.



“Travel, move into your own apartment, move away from Rockabill even.” He paused when he saw the look in my eye, adjusting his tone so it was even softer, gentler. “I am not saying I want you to go. I’d love for you to stay here, and in our home, for as long as you want. But I do want you to know I’ll love you just as much if you decide you need your own space.”



“What if I want to join a cult, shave my head, and become adept at making Kool-Aid?”



“Then I’m locking you in the basement.”



I giggled. “Thanks, Dad.” I thought of what the creature had said, about war coming. “I might have to leave at some point. And it’s good to know you’ll understand.”



We sat in silence for a few moments, my dad’s hand still on my knee.



“All right, then. Next stop, Anyan’s. Will you be coming home at all?” he asked.



“Um,” I said, as he shook his head.



“Never mind. Just because I support your independence doesn’t mean I want to know any details.”



Smart man, I thought, as I leaned back in my seat, visions of opposable thumbs dancing in my head.



CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE



My dad beat a hasty retreat after he dropped me off at Anyan’s cabin, which was blazing with light. I stood for a second in the driveway, looking at the setting that had featured so heavily in my mirror fantasies.



Is this what I want? I thought to myself. Right then, the screen door opened and out stepped Anyan, dressed only, and mouthwateringly, in some trashy-chic ragged jeans and a tight white T-shirt. Surprisingly, it bore an advert for Whiskas.



No, my libido chimed in, addressing my brain’s question. My mouth had actually begun watering. He is what you want.



I strode toward the barghest, not caring that I was covered in mud, with ripped clothes and hair sticking out in a million directions. Or that I was carrying an ax. And, except for giving my new toy a funny look, Anyan obviously didn’t care what I looked like, either. He met me halfway down his wide front steps only to pick me up in those strong arms and hold me, ax and all.



I shuddered and clung to Anyan, the relief I felt at that moment so palpable it was like a tennis ball in my throat.



“I missed you,” I whispered, knotting my dirty hands in his hair.



His only response was to squeeze me tighter against him.



“I wish I could say the same thing,” he said, “but I remember nothing.”



“Nothing?” I asked.



“Nothing,” he replied. “I just woke up here, naked, with a half-chewed rawhide toy hanging out of my mouth. Then I wasn’t able to get ahold of anyone, at all, except for Iris who said that you’d gone down a hole a while ago, and hadn’t been seen since. I was freaking out. Especially since I can’t remember anything after a couple of days ago.”



And that’s probably for the best, I thought, what with all the ball licking, peeing on things, and sniffing of the pee.



“Trill told me I was just a dog, thankfully. It couldn’t have been that bad, right?”



I made noncommittal if vaguely soothing noises and squirmed myself even tighter against him.



Not a dog now, my libido cooed, happily, as Anyan stroked a big hand down my back.



He walked up his stairs and into his house, and then he carried me into his lounge to sit with me, still attached to him like a burr, on his sofa. Before we sat down, I threw my labrys on his chair-and-a-half when I had the chance.



“You’re filthy,” he said softly, as he arranged us so that I was lying across his lap, my head cradled on his shoulder. It was delightful, and it kept his sofa clean, the practical canine.



“I was spelunking.”



“You found a souvenir?” he asked, gesturing toward the ax.



“It’s a long story.”



“And one I want to hear. Tell me what happened,” he said. “Did you destroy the threat?”



“No,” I said. “Well, maybe yes, if you mean Phaedra. She’s dead.”



Anyan sucked in a breath. “Dead? Are you sure?”



“Yep. Impaled on a tentacle. It was gross.”



“Wow. You didn’t…”



“Nope, no tentacles. I did kinda kick her ass, though.”



“Good for you,” he said and grinned. “And what about the labrys?”



“You know what it is!”



“Of course. And I can teach you to use it.”



I sighed happily, snuggling closer against him. “Of course you can, clever puppy.”



“May I ask how you acquired it?”



“A magical creature from the dawn of time conned me into taking it, and now I’m its champion.”



“Huh,” the barghest said. “You are, are you?”



“Yep,” I replied, my voice thick with exhaustion. “But more like Joan of Arc, I think. Only hopefully without being martyred and all of that.”



“So an ancient creature made you its champion. Why does it need one?”



“Cuz it’s trapped, and for good, now. It wanted me to destroy the only sigil that could free it, so it didn’t have to worry. It scoots around in our minds, I think, so it doesn’t need its body anymore, anyway.”



“Scoots around in our minds?” Anyan asked, clearly uncomfortable with that idea.



“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s not all judgy and human. It just watches.”



“Hmmm,” he grumbled, frowning. “So it’s no longer a threat?”



“It was never really a threat. It is, genuinely, nice. It didn’t even need to be imprisoned. The Alfar just did that so—”



“I know,” he interrupted. “We all saw that part. The creature must have wanted us to know the truth.”



“How far did the visions go?” I asked.



“Just around Rockabill. Caleb called Ryu and a few other contacts, and no one outside the town saw anything.”



“Did the humans?” I asked, horrified, and then I realized how inaccurate that question was.



“If you mean our nonmagical brothers and sisters, then yes. They did. But we’ve glamoured everyone to think that some addled hipsters from New York came and dumped LSD in the water. We’re stretching that story to cover the possessions, too.”



“Who came up with that? It’s terrible,” I said.



“Amy,” Anyan responded. “She likes to blame everything on drugs, ironically enough.”



“And hipsters,” I affirmed. “Anyway, so you know that we’re all just humans? But like mutated or whatever?”



He smiled at me. “I’ve always had a hunch.”



And then I remembered that night after my mom was murdered when he told me that I had to stay human, that all of us had to stay human. I thought he’d meant something all philosophical and hippie-dippie, but he was being literal.



“How’d you know?” I asked.