Daide stood at the helm staring out the windows lining three walls of the bridge. It was his turn to stand watch, and Viktor had run across the hall to ask Ketha to make them a midnight snack—if she was still awake. Stars were scattered across the clear night sky, and a quarter moon sat above the horizon. Strange how simple things like the stars and moon never changed no matter what happened to the land stretching beneath them.

He smiled. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. In the week that had passed since he and Karin first made love, they’d been close to inseparable. Sleeping next to her, making love, learning even more about her moods and temperament, had deepened his attachment.

And his respect and awe.

She was a strong woman, competent and sure of herself, with a sharp, incisive intellect. The type of woman he’d always wanted but had never approached for fear of having to disclose too much of himself. She’d finally admitted why she’d never married, and it made perfect sense. In the era she came from, women gave up a lot when they tied themselves to a husband. She’d have become chattel, bound to live her life by the standards her partner set for her.

He’d been surprised Shifters had lived by the same archaic standards as humans where the man ruled the roost, but apparently there hadn’t been many differences.

He checked the instrumentation, pleased everything looked the way it should. They’d be at the Solomon Islands later tonight or tomorrow morning. The beauty of travel by ship was constant progress at between twelve and fourteen knots an hour, twenty-four seven. The seas had been smooth, and the weather temperate, although not as warm as Vik and Juan had expected.

Viktor strode back onto the bridge. “All’s well, mate?” He carried a thermos in one hand and balanced a plate laden with biscuits and assorted other items in the other.

“Yup. Just checked. I thought Ketha was going to do a galley run.”

“Eh, she’s asleep. I hate to disturb her. She’s been worried about something, but I can’t pry it out of her.” Viktor set the plate on a low table and fetched two cups, pouring steaming black coffee into them.

“Gracias.” Daide took one, sipping gratefully at the hot, bitter brew.

Viktor dragged a stool over and munched on a biscuit spread with tinned preserves. “Do you know?” He arched a tawny brow.

“Know what?” Daide got up and took a biscuit of his own, slathering jam on it.

“What Ketha is worried about.”

“Why would I?” Daide countered. “She’s your wife.”

Viktor cast a pointed look his way. “Because you and Karin are thicker than thieves. I figure I’ll get to officiate at another wedding one of these days.”

Daide bent over his biscuit, unsure whether to share Karin’s confidences. After a week had passed without any further attacks or anything untoward happening, they’d kicked around the possibility her fears about Poseidon were baseless.

“I know that body posture. We don’t keep secrets on ships, especially not from the captain.” Viktor’s words held harsh edges, and he moved his stool until he sat knee to knee with Daide.

“It’s not keeping secrets if we don’t actually know anything.”

“Yeah, but Karin suspects something. I’ve worked with her long enough to recognize the signs. And it’s a sure bet she’s confided in you.”

Daide took another bite of biscuit before placing it back in the plate. He licked jam off his fingers before resting his hand on the wheel. “You really should ask Karin. I’m not sure it’s my place to—”

“I did ask her. She blew me off. And I put Ketha up to digging, but Karin wouldn’t talk with her, either. Goddammit. If you have any information, no matter how trivial you think it is, I need to know. And pronto. Things have been going too well. Every instinct I have says we’re headed for a new catastrophe.”

“Like sailing off the edge of the world?”

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

Daide let go of the wheel and wrapped his fingers around the warm ceramic mug. He was in a bind, one where he had to respond to Viktor, and he hoped Karin wouldn’t be angry. He was organizing his thoughts, deciding what to say, when she trotted onto the bridge.

Smiling, she said, “I came by to see if you two needed anything before I turned in, but it appears you’re all set.”

“Excellent timing.” Daide walked to her and gave her a quick hug. “Viktor wants to know about your, um, concerns.”

She turned toward Viktor, a guileless expression on her face, and said, “I may have had a few, but they’ve faded. Probably not worth hashing through.”

“Everything is worth hashing through.” Viktor’s terse comment sliced across the bridge leaving shards of annoyance in its wake. “What did you pick up on?”

“In the simplest terms, I fear Poseidon switched sides.”

A rapid intake of breath proved Viktor hadn’t entertained that idea, and his words clinched it. “Of all the possibilities I’ve considered, that one never made the list.”

“I lack hard evidence,” Karin went on. “The series of events unfolding around his appearance could be coincidental, but I doubt it.”

“Was he behind the Kelpie attack?” Viktor drained his mug and got up to refill it from the thermos.

“Maybe,” Karin replied carefully.

“Mmph. Well, he certainly did something to alienate the sea Shifters, but that happened during the Cataclysm.”

“Not coming to your aid would alienate anyone,” Daide cut in.

“Poseidon claimed he couldn’t, that he and Amphitrite were locked in stasis somewhere,” Viktor muttered.

“Yes, and I don’t believe that story for a second,” Karin said. “They’re gods. Only another god could detain them against their will.”

“If your theory is true,” Viktor spoke slowly, “what do you suppose will happen next?”

Karin turned her hands palms upward. “Sorry. The crystal ball’s been a bit dusty. That’s more a question for Ketha with her seer ability.”

Breath hissed from between Viktor’s clenched teeth. “She’s looked but says nothing materialized. Since I have no idea how her talent works, I wasn’t sure what she meant.”

A fine vertical line formed between Karin’s brows, and Daide figured she hadn’t liked what Viktor disclosed. “Funny, she hasn’t mentioned it to any of the rest of us,” Karin said.

“Probably because there was nothing to tell you.” Viktor jumped in to defend his wife.

“No. You don’t get it.” Karin closed her teeth over her lower lip. “I have no idea how many times she’s tried to scry the future. A single failure, or even two, doesn’t mean much, but if you can’t break through consistently, it suggests someone doesn’t want us privy to what’s out there. Damn it.”

“What?” Daide asked.

“She should have come to one of us, requested assistance. Our magic is additive.” Karin turned and headed for the door.

“Ketha’s asleep,” Viktor said. “Don’t disturb her; she hasn’t been sleeping well.”

“I just bet she hasn’t,” Karin retorted.

Viktor squared his shoulders. “This is precisely why we don’t hold secrets on ships. You shelved your fears—”

“For the best of reasons,” Karin bristled and turned back around. “No need to get everyone upset over nothing. Besides, the newlyweds deserved a span of peace to enjoy one another.”

“Better to be prepared over nothing than caught with our dicks out when another atrocity blindsides us,” Viktor countered. “As to Juan, the ship is his first responsibility, as it is mine.”

Daide didn’t bother to point out Aura might not quite see things that way. “Maybe we could work on this in the morning,” he suggested.

“We could, but I’m going to find Leif and maybe the lead whale Shifter. They may know more about Poseidon’s role during the Cataclysm than they’ve told us.” Karin stood tall, rolling her shoulder blades back. “At the very least, they’re sure to be able to shed light on his character before the world turned to shit.”

The air around her took on an incandescent quality that meant she’d leveraged magic. Daide poured more coffee into his mug and handed it to her. Even though he’d spent a decade as a Vampire and a few months as a Shifter, when she’d said she was going to roust the sea Shifters, he’d assumed she was going to walk to their cabins or determine if they were swimming alongside the ship. Instead, she’d leveraged telepathy.

The salt tang of the sea intensified. When Daide turned toward the back of the bridge, he wasn’t surprised to see Leif and the lead whale Shifter. Both were naked, and water streamed off them, forming puddles where they stood.

“You rang?” Leif grinned and trotted to the plate of food. Scooping up a biscuit, he took a large bite.

The door leading into the corridor opened, and a sleepy-eyed Ketha with tousled hair trudged in. She was wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe. “Geez, no one could sleep with all this magic happening a couple of thin walls away. What’s up? Why are we having a middle-of-the-night meeting?” Moving to the thermos, she shook it.

“Sorry,” Daide said. “Karin took the last of it.”

“It’s okay. If I drink any, I’ll never get back to sleep.”

“You may not, anyway,” Karin said. A sour note ran beneath her words. “Why didn’t you tell one of us you’d attempted to scry the future and failed? How many times did you try?”

Ketha’s golden eyes widened as she focused on Karin. “Um, well, let’s see here. When did I begin reporting to you?”

Karin walked to her and draped an arm around her shoulders. “That’s not it at all, and you know it. How many times, Ketha?”

“Too many,” she admitted. “I was going to call a meeting tomorrow and bring it up. You beat me to the punch.”

Karin scrunched her forehead into worried lines and looked from Leif to the whale. “What can you tell us about Poseidon?”

Leif’s pleasant expression faded. “That old bastard? It might save time if you homed in on what you’re looking for.”

“Could he have switched sides?” Viktor asked.

Leif raked his wet hair behind his shoulders, where it continued to drip on the floor, and exchanged glances with the whale. “It’s possible. What do you think?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” the whale muttered. “Far as I know, evil didn’t seduce him before, and there are many fell creatures in the sea. Entities that may have made him juicy offers over the years.”

“Could standing by while so many of your kin died have changed him?” Karin asked.

“Anything is possible.” The whale repeated a variation of Leif’s earlier statement

“Can either of you recall the sequence of events when Poseidon and Amphitrite found you and the other sea Shifters?” Karin asked.

“There was no sequence of events,” Leif replied. “They simply materialized one day with no credible explanation about where they’d been or why they’d bothered to find us, now, when we were clearly dying.”

“They did stammer through a few lame excuses about how they’d wanted to come far sooner, but couldn’t,” the whale cut in.

“Did they try to save you?” Ketha asked. She’d moved next to Viktor and laced her fingers with his.

“No. They said we were beyond what their magic could accomplish,” the whale said. “I didn’t think it was true, but I was too sick to argue with them.”

“Which was precisely what they were counting on,” Karin growled and set her mouth in a tight, thin line. “How long after they showed up did you end up aboard Arkady?”

Leif blew out a tense-sounding breath. “Not an easy question for a dolphin who was counting his life in days, but it wasn’t much time. Not more than a few hours.”

“So their story about racing to your side as soon as they could to offer succor was bullshit.” Ketha screwed her mouth into an angry moue.

“My take on it,” Leif said.

“Mine too,” the whale echoed.

“They sure didn’t stick around once we began working on you,” Daide mumbled.

“It seemed odd at the time,” Karin agreed.

“My impression as well,” Ketha spoke up. “I thought sure they’d at least stop in to check on all of you, but we didn’t actually see them after that until we invited them to the weddings.”

“I heard from them,” Leif reminded everyone. “They read me the riot act for that agreement with the Witches.”

“I’m not liking how this is shaping up,” Daide said.

“What can we do about it?” Ever the pragmatist, Viktor spun both hands in circles to encourage them to come up with solutions.

“Hard to solve problems that haven’t shown their faces,” Daide told him.

“Certainly is,” Leif agreed.

“If we put our heads together with the other sea Shifters, maybe we can come up with patterns or some other evidence that might give us a clue where they’ll strike next,” the whale said.

Leif’s nostrils flared as he inhaled. “I’m kicking myself.”

“Why?” Daide asked.

“When Poseidon announced we were on our own if we kept sailing north, I was so grateful to have him out of our hair, I didn’t look for motives on his part. I figured he was being the same selfish bastard who took his ball and went home if you didn’t play the game his way.”

“We don’t know anything. Not for sure,” Karin cautioned. “Although Ketha’s news is unsettling.”

“What news?” Leif turned his unusual, pale-blue eyes her way.

Ketha disentangled herself from where she’d been leaning against Viktor. “He”—she jerked her chin at her husband—“started nagging a few days ago. Said things were too quiet and asked me to look into the future. I tried but couldn’t see a thing. It was rather like when I tried to scry the roots of the Cataclysm and got nowhere until the spell hiding the information faded.”

“Surely you tried more than once,” the whale said.

“Oh yeah. I’ve tried maybe a dozen times; the latest effort was earlier this evening. Always with the same result. A blank wall blocked my efforts.”

“When were you planning to say something?” Leif asked.

Ketha rolled her eyes. “Stop. Karin just rebuked the crap out of me. Tomorrow. I was going to ask for assistance boosting my power tomorrow, but even if I can break through whatever’s thwarting me, we still might not learn much beyond generalities.”

“I understand,” the whale said. “I’ve done my share of information gathering.”

“I’d forgotten that.” Leif turned to the whale. “Can you help her? Our magic is stronger than theirs.”

“Be glad to,” the whale said, “but why wait?”

“Why, indeed?” Ketha aimed her next words at Karin. “Your prophecy came true.”

“Oh?” Karin stared at her friend. “Which one?”

“When you said sleep was over for the night. I’ll be right back. I need my glass, and I’ll throw some clothes on.”

“Will you need the rest of us?” Viktor asked.

“Probably not,” the whale Shifter said, “but you may as well remain in case I’m wrong. While we’re waiting for Ketha, I’ll run down to the locker and dress.”

“I’m going to the galley to get a refill on that coffee,” Karin said.

“Take the thermos,” Viktor urged. “It holds four cups.”

“I’ll come with you.” Daide followed Karin out of the bridge and down several flights.

They worked in a companionable silence until she mumbled something in Gaelic.

“What?” Daide asked.

“I don’t like any of this, but beating Ketha over the head won’t fix it. Even if she’d come to me or Aura or Zoe after her second failed attempt, there wouldn’t have been much we could do beyond supporting her with additional magic to try again.”

“But you don’t expect it would have yielded anything different.” He screwed a lid onto the thermos bottle.

“No. That blank wall she described?” At his nod, she went on, “It means someone very powerful magically doesn’t want us to have any clues.”

“Maybe the whale will make a difference.” Daide was shooting in the dark, but he kept talking. “You’ve told me different magics are synergistic, and the sea Shifters’ power is different from yours.”

“Was different,” Karin said and looked askance at him. “They sundered their arrangement with the Witches. It was why they were so strong.”

“How come Leif just said their magic trumps yours, er ours?”

She smiled. “Good thing you remembered what you are. You’d have crushed your bondmate, and goddess knows it needs all the encouragement you can offer it. I don’t know why Leif said that. Maybe he still believes it. Maybe he knows something I don’t.” She spread her hands in front of her. “Does it matter? We’ll go back to the bridge and keep a close eye on what unfolds.”

Daide snatched up a half-eaten pan of cornbread. “I’ll bring this along.”

“Love your optimism, but I have a feeling the next half hour will kill everyone’s appetite.”

They plodded up four sets of risers to bridge level. When they pushed the door open, Ketha and the whale had set up shop in front of the windows. The moon had made a full commitment to traversing the sky, and light streamed through the glass. Daide took it as a positive omen.

He laid the cornbread on the chart table and set the thermos next to it. Karin stood next to him and placed a finger over her lips. He nodded, understanding full well how important it was not to disturb the two Shifters.

They began to chant, and power shimmered around them, forming a glowing nimbus that changed color from white to blue to green, and then back to white. They stood so both of them could look into Ketha’s mirror. An eight- by ten-inch oblong, it was set in an antique brass frame. He wanted to look too, but they were turned at an angle that made it impossible for anyone but them to see.

Leif stood next to Viktor. He wasn’t dripping water any longer, but he looked worried, with a pinched expression around his eyes. Karin crooked a finger and walked closer, stopping near Leif. Daide stood next to her, alert and watchful, but not expecting much beyond one more failed attempt to see something in the scyring mirror.

He felt Karin summon power, saw it eddy around her, and smelled the wild, untamed scent unique to her. It always intensified when she called magic. Daide switched to his psychic view, the transition clumsier than he would have liked. Glowing lines transected the bridge. Ley lines, they depicted areas where power aggregated.

Karin began a low, urgent chant. He felt the vibration in his gut. Ketha pointed at something in the glass; the whale nodded, and both of them picked up the pace of their incantation. Maybe they’d almost broken through.

“You have to stop them.” The coyote sounded frantic. “Something’s not right.”

“They’ll be done soon.” Daide tried to placate the coyote, but it howled mournfully.

Tension poured off Viktor. He never took his eyes off his wife, as if he was willing her to find her way through the psychic thicket that had stymied her previous efforts. Was his raven cawing warnings in the background alongside Daide’s coyote?

If Daide hadn’t dialed in his third eye, he’d never have noticed when the ley lines nearest Ketha and the whale began to vibrate. Black-tinged light bloomed along the lines, and the stench of ozone filled the bridge.

“Nooooo!” Karin shrieked and bolted toward Ketha and the whale with Leif right behind her yelling in Gaelic.

Daide had no idea what was happening, but figured it couldn’t be good. A flaming border formed around Ketha and the whale, accompanied by a low, ominous booming sound.

Karin chanted furiously, heaving magic at the flames. They absorbed her magic and burned brighter, higher.

“Fuck! It’s feeding off me,” she shouted and withdrew her magic.

Leif reached through the fire and grabbed hold of the whale. Viktor grunted with strain as he did the same with Ketha. The skin on the backs of his hands turned red and then blistered, but he didn’t let go. The stench of burning flesh rose. Karin grabbed Viktor’s waist and helped pull. Daide latched onto Leif.

No matter how hard they jerked and struggled, they couldn’t budge Ketha or the whale out of the circle. Breath rasped in Daide’s throat as he inhaled smoke and ash. His heart thudded hard against his ribcage, and sweat dripped down his sides as he dug in his heels and exerted as much backward pressure as he could manage.

“Can’t you leverage magic?” he shouted at Leif.

“No. It will ricochet.”

The boom turned to a high-pitched shriek, and the fiery circle blasted upward like a miniature atomic explosion. When it cleared, Ketha and the whale were gone.

Viktor shrieked in German and clawed at the air.

Leif held out his charred arms to Karin. Pain carved lines into his face, and he held himself stiffly. Nodding, she wrapped his burnt flesh with glistening magical ropes.

Daide gripped Viktor’s shoulders so hard it had to hurt, although maybe he couldn’t feel anything beyond the pain of his burns. “Pull yourself together. Now.” He made his voice stern, even though his heart hurt for his friend.

Viktor shook himself from head to toe and regarded Daide through anguished eyes, eyes that looked like he’d emerged from Hell.

Karin wrapped Viktor’s hands and forearms in the same enchanted dressings she’d used on Leif. “At least we know more than we did,” she growled.

“Indeed we do.” Leif nodded solemnly.

“Was it Poseidon?” Daide asked.

“Not sure. I thought I caught sight of Amphitrite in the midst of a dense mist, but it might have been some other goddess.” Karin narrowed her eyes. “I hope to hell we can raise some allies in the Solomons. We need reinforcements. Hell, I’d even take that Witch right now—if we’d brought her along.”

“But we have to go after Ketha. Now.” Viktor spoke like a dead man, his tone flat and without inflection.

“They’re not anywhere we can get to.” Compassion lit twin fires in the depths of Karin’s copper eyes.

“What do you mean?” Viktor reached for her and groaned as the movement created pain.

“They’re either on a borderworld or a long way from here in a place that’s both desert and frozen at the same time. I caught glimpses before the portal banged shut. Only magic can bring them back, and it may well end up being theirs. Your burns will be healed in a few hours.” She turned to Leif. “Yours too.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you. We seem to be bound to heal one another’s injuries. I will summon my kin.”

“Have them gather here,” Viktor said and walked to the PA system’s speaker. “I’ll wake everyone else.”

“I can hold the mic button,” Daide said. “We’ll get her back, amigo.”

Viktor didn’t reply, but at least the frantic hysteria that had gripped him had apparently passed, and he was back in sea captain mode. Daide activated the PA system, and Viktor barked. “Everyone to the bridge now.”

Karin and Leif walked to where they stood.

Viktor skewered them with his green-eyed gaze. “What are the odds? Don’t sugarcoat this. I have to know.”

“Not good,” Karin said.

“Going after them isn’t practical,” Leif added. “First, we’d have to locate them, which would take far too long. I’ve only been to two borderworlds, and the trips were so arduous I never tried again. If it isn’t a borderworld they’re on, I didn’t recognize the landscape.”

“Frozen and a desert,” Viktor repeated Karin’s words. “Could be the high Arctic.”

“Easier to get to,” Leif said, “but we’d blow through a hell of a lot of magic, and that’s where the gateway is. We might be walking into a trap.”

Daide considered Leif’s words. “If you could get back from a borderworld,” he said slowly, “then maybe they can too.”

“Maybe so,” Leif agreed. “The whale is ancient and strong. If anyone can pull off an escape, it’s him, and if they’re in the Arctic, it’s surrounded by ocean. Easy for him to don his whale form. Once he’s in the sea, he’ll be able to communicate with us.”

A shadow crossed Viktor’s face. “Would the whale leave Ketha alone?”

“If it was the only way to get them out of there, then yes,” Leif replied. A grave light flickered in his eyes. “Try to have faith, raven Shifter.”

“What choice do I have?” Bitterness lined Viktor’s words. “It’s all that’s left.”