Eye of the Tempest

“And to surprise someone like Anyan with any type of offense, you have to be really good,” Trill added, as her black-nailed fingers crept across my lap toward the potato chips on my plate. She got a quick slap on the hand for her pains as I finished the last of my sandwich.



I’ve got ribs to cover, I thought, unrepentant of my greed.



“ ’Kay, but what about nagas and camouflaging?” I asked, before starting in on my chips. If I were honest, I was already pretty full. But that had never stopped me before.



“Nagas and at least two other factions have abilities to camouflage their powers. They have to be very strong for it to be really effective, and they use up most of their power maintaining their camouflage. But it makes them effective spies, if they’re successful.”



“How do you think Jimmu got into Nell’s Territory?” Trill asked me, in a duh voice, as she eyed my ever-disappearing pile of Ruffles.



In return, I gave the kelpie my own patented fuck-off face. “I was too stuck on the whole man-who-turns-into-a-snake-and-wants-to-kill-me thing to wonder much about the how-he-got-into-the-gnome’s-Territory thing.” To conclude, I shoved about five chips into my mouth and then licked my fingers at her in revenge.



“So whoever hired the humans,” Nell said in a loud voice, obviously wanting our attention back on her, “was smart, well connected, and wealthy. We do not use human servants. Ever.”



Just like you don’t use human science, I thought sarcastically, remembering what everyone kept saying about Conleth and, later, Jarl’s laboratories. And speaking of my favorite evil Alfar…



“Jarl?” I mumbled through my very full mouth, spitting out crumbs.



Nell shook her little head. “How? His assets were frozen when he killed Orin. And yes, I’m sure he had money squirreled away,” she said in response to the face I pulled. “And Jarl certainly had the contacts. But how could he have organized the attack?”



I frowned as I swallowed.



“Maybe he had it planned from a while ago?”



“How? You hadn’t been in Rockabill for weeks. That team, according to what Anyan’s been able to find out, entered the area the day you left the Compound, and they were hired just before that. In other words, before Jarl needed to kill you, and shortly before he began fleeing for his life.”



“He could have set it up beforehand and then just made a single phone call,” I grumbled, completely convinced that Jarl was responsible for everything nasty, up to and including the flu, pigeons, and the relative inaccessibility of the G-spot.



“He could have,” Nell intoned gently. “And I’m not saying he wouldn’t have, or that he’s not somehow involved. But what we’re thinking is that this goes even deeper than Jarl.”



My eyes widened, my chips forgotten despite my sudden influx of ribs.



“Deeper? How?”



“This isn’t the only Territory, Jane. There are Territories all over the world, all of which are experiencing the same population crises we are, and most of which have the same tensions betweens halflings and purebloods. Some are more forward thinking than our Territory, but there are a lot that are even less so.”



“So you think what?”



“Jarl can’t be alone in this. Someone had to have informed about your leaving—someone who was there to watch you in the first place, since I know Anyan snuck you two out of that Compound. Which is worrying enough, but we also have to stop thinking just in terms of Jarl. Morrigan’s obviously been involved up to her eyeballs this whole time.”



“And she was the queen,” I said with a groan, beginning to realize what Nell had already figured out.



“Yep. With lots of contact with other monarchs in other Territories.”



Even Trill looked glum at that thought.



“Good lord. Do you think this is an international conspiracy?” I asked.



“Who knows? But I wouldn’t rule it out,” Nell said, her normally relaxed features serious.



“Well, fuckerdoodles to that,” I said, my mind, at that moment, only capable of nibbling at the very edges of such a huge idea.



Trill giggled. “Yes, fuckerdoodles to that. No more grim talk. Yay for Jane being awake! We need to celebrate! And I bet I know what you need.”



I looked at the kelpie, my eyes huge with longing.



“A swim,” Trill finished just as I’d hoped she would, causing Nell to nod sharply.



“It’s still early in the evening, so a swim it is,” said the gnome. “And since you’re still shaky on your feet…”



And with that Nell grabbed my hand, along with Trill’s. I felt my world spin as Nell used her borrowed Old Magic to apparate us both.



I would have protested the lack of warning, but all complaints dried up as I found myself right where I wanted to be:



Plopped, naked as a jaybird, directly into my ocean.



CHAPTER FOUR



Letting myself float in midwater, my long hair swirling around me as black as squid’s ink, I opened myself to the Atlantic. As her power flooded through me, I trembled, but not as violently as I had initially. At first, the force of my element had hurt. Rusty from a combination of abuse and disuse, my magical channels balked against the encroaching power. It felt a little like alcohol over abraded flesh, or something forcing its way into too tight a space. But eventually, the power began to soothe until finally it just felt good.



Trill watched me, in pony form, from a short distance away. Her little black hooves were planted firmly in the sand, but her seaweed mane and tail tossed as she waited impatiently. I didn’t let her rush me, however. Instead, I slowly—painfully—stretched my magical muscles, feeling them twinge and balk but finally accede to use. Eventually, when I was ready, I opened my eyes and grinned at her. Then I used my magic to dart away, looking back at the kelpie in a clear declaration of “catch me if you can.”



I was moving slower than I ever had in the water, and sometimes my whole system would stutter like an old car’s engine, but the more I used my mojo the easier it got and the better I felt. Trill followed at a short distance, allowing me to feel like we were really chasing one another even if she was clearly humoring me.



Swimming close to shore at first, to get the old sea legs back, I went through the sort of basic magical exercises with which I’d started out my training. Trill obliged me by sitting still when I worked up to lobbing mage balls (albeit underwater mage balls), but eventually she turned the tables. Giving chase, she pushed me to pull more on my power, limbering me up even further.



In the meantime, it felt like heaven to be back in the Atlantic. It was frigid, of course, but either magic or genetics, or a combination of both, kept me from really feeling how cold. All I knew was the water felt delicious against my skin



Like the caress of a mother’s soothing touch, I thought, poetically, until just a moment later that same soothing water smacked me down to the seabed.



In our play, Trill and I had wandered too close to the Old Sow. Her piglets were famous for springing up out of nowhere, whenever and wherever they felt like it, and one had caught me unawares. It didn’t hurt when I landed, but it did knock my breath from me—a tricky situation when I was underwater. I had to calm my natural human reaction to suck in a breath and switch to my instinctual selkie brain to filter my oxygen through my magical connection with the water.



Not that I was in a hurry to pick myself up off the ocean floor anyway. The piglet whirled for a few more minutes nearby, rucking up water and sand and seaweed that rubbed against me in a pleasant exfoliation.



Who needs expensive salons? I thought, closing my eyes firmly against the firm chaff of the swirling grit.



Feels so good, I thought, turning over so that I was lying on my belly, my face toward the Sow. So very good… And if this feels good, think how much better it would feel to be even closer.



There was something about the way the water soothed against my flesh—undulating and gentle—that made me want to move forward. I wanted to feel more, to feel how it felt right over there. So, inching forward on my belly, I kept moving closer to that magnetic pull.



Until I saw rough, black-nailed hands grab me by my wrists and haul me backward till I was sitting quite a distance away.



What the hell were you doing? Trill mouthed at me. I’d gotten very good at reading lips underwater since I’d started swimming with the kelpie.



In response, all I did was blink at her in confusion. What did she mean, what was I doing? I thought. And then I felt the pain.



Looking down, I realized that I was covered in small cuts and bruises. What had, at the time, felt like the gentle exfoliation of a little grit must really have been the pummeling of decent-sized rocks.



Trill’s hands on my shoulders shook me until I looked up at her face. You were going right into the Sow, she mouthed. I had to shift underwater. What were you thinking?



Trill hated shifting underwater; she must have been really worried about me. Which, in turn, made me worry about myself.



I don’t know, I mouthed in response. And I didn’t. I hadn’t felt the pain of the rocks hitting me, hadn’t felt anything but pleasure and curiosity.