Ketha fell through blackness. When she tried to breathe, her lungs seized, and she understood she was plummeting through an airless void. She reached for her wolf.

“I’m here. Where would I go? We’re bonded.”

Tears leaked from her eyes, but a chill wind filled with scraps of grit dried them almost instantly. She shielded her face from the sandpaper scrape of gravel, but then the backs of her hands stung and burned. The whale? Was he here too? She moved her hands and narrowed her eyes, attempting to peer through the dense gloom surrounding her, but couldn’t see a thing.

Her heart was pounding; adrenaline left a sour taste on her tongue. If there’d been air, she’d have forced some nice, deep breaths, but sucking fumes only intensified her panic.

Think. I have to think.

She’d been drawn through some kind of gateway, so presumably someone would be waiting for her at the other end.

Maybe not. Maybe this is their way of killing me. I’ll die without oxygen, and damned quick.

She pulled up the neck of her sweater, burying her nose in its folds to capture any air molecules trapped within the garment. It worked. She didn’t get much, but enough to mute her dread of suffocation.

“Cushion your descent,” the wolf warned.

Ketha didn’t waste energy questioning her bondmate. She drew magic, grateful her power hadn’t been stripped along with her free will, and wrapped it around herself. Her end-over-end tumbling slowed, and her reflexive attempts to breathe yielded a small amount of oxygen. It answered one question. A destination lay ahead—one with a breathable atmosphere. It beat immediate death in the airless void.

“Good.” The wolf was back. “For a while there, I was afraid you’d given up.”

“Never.”

A ferocious howl rose from her belly, reminding her how much she loved her wolf. The black yielded to gray, and cracked, rock-strewn ground rose up to meet her. She hit, bounced, and hit once more before lying still. The magical shielding around her had taken the brunt of the landing. If the wolf hadn’t warned her, she might have broken a few bones.

Ketha loosed her protective magic and scrambled to her feet. It was cold, below zero, and wind drove small, sharp rocks into her legs. Rivers of ice traversed a plain that might have been in northern Russia or the Canadian Arctic. No trees. Nothing green.

Movement caught the edges of her vision, and the whale lumbered into view. “So, we’re both here,” he said. “I sensed you near while I fell.”

She didn’t bother to tell him she’d been too spun out about the lack of air to recognize his energy. A shiver racked her, and she wrapped her arms around her body, wishing for a hat and gloves. “Where are we?” She turned to face him.

“Two choices. A borderworld, which would be truly bad news...”

“Or?”

“We’re on Wrangel Island, somewhere near the portal we’re supposed to be closing.”

“Why not Siberia? Or Baffin Island? Or a hundred other locations in the high Arctic?” she demanded. The cold, thin air hurt her lungs, but she was relieved to have something to breathe.

“Any of those are possible.” He held out his arms. “Come closer. You’re cold.”

“And you’re not?”

“Not the same way you are. I retain some of my whale physiology as a human.”

Grateful for his warmth, she let him fold his arms around her. “Do you know how we can get out of here?”

“Depends. Can you teleport?”

“Only over very short distances,” she replied. “Even if I could, it can’t be that easy. Someone went to a lot of work to separate us from Arkady. I don’t believe they’ll allow us to waltz out of here.”

The whale twisted his head from side to side as he scanned the barren landscape. “No greeting party,” he pointed out.

“Maybe we beat them here.” Ketha straightened. “If that’s true, this might be our only chance to escape.”

“If this is a borderworld, and the lack of air on our journey suggests it might be, escape will be very hard.”

“The animals inhabit a borderworld,” she pointed out. “Mages breached the boundaries; it’s how Shifters came to be.” An idea bloomed, and she turned her attention inward.

“Can you take us to your world?”

“Maybe,” the wolf said.

Ketha knew her bondmate well. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to travel in my form, and at the end of things, you may never find your human body again.”

“I heard that,” the whale said.

Ketha opened her mouth to ask what he thought about it when the ground began to undulate beneath their feet. Deep fissures formed amid cracking ice, and a low, menacing growl emerged from the wounded land.

“Choose now,” her wolf said. “No more time.”

“Listen to me.” The whale gripped her arms. “Shift and leave this place. Your wolf will find Viktor’s raven on the borderworld, and they’ll come up with a way to return you to your rightful place.”

Ketha swallowed back panic. Being a wolf forever wouldn’t be all that bad if it weren’t for Viktor, but she couldn’t think about any of that. If she wasn’t careful, longing for the only man she’d ever truly loved might break her, strip her of hope.

“Are you coming with me?” she asked

“No. I will teleport. If we’re still on Earth, I’ll find an ocean and swim.”

“But, what if we’re not?” Her gut twisted with apprehension.

A corner of his mouth turned downward. “Then I’ll have to figure out something different. Hurry.” He let go of her. “Your wolf is correct. We’re almost out of time.”

“Open fires and safe journeys.” She invoked an old Shifter blessing.

“To you as well,” the whale replied in a formal tone. “If fate is kind, we shall meet again.”

Ketha felt her wolf raging within her.

“Take my form. Now!”

Ketha offered a hasty prayer to the goddess before ceding to her bondmate, trusting its wisdom. The noise of ripping fabric joined the malevolent crackling, booming cacophony that meant the ground was doing its damnedest to swallow them whole. At least she wasn’t cold anymore. The wolf’s coat and thick pads protected her from such things.

She took off at a dead run, leaping gaping holes opening all around her. Light flared as the wolf summoned its brand of magic, and, with a mighty leap, they sprang through an opening that formed above them.

* * * *

KARIN WAS TOO KEYED up to stand still, so she paced in a tight circle. Bleary-eyed people were still filing onto the bridge. All the sea Shifters were here. When she did a nose count, the only ones missing were Boris and Ted, and they pushed through the door wearing worried expressions.

Daide straightened from where he’d been bent over nautical charts. “We should reach the southernmost Solomon Island in about a quarter hour.”

“I’d planned our course around it, but that could change,” Juan said.

Karin stalked to the charts and studied a map of the islands. “Here.” She stabbed a finger at the three southernmost islands. “Can we place the boat north of San Cristóbal and south of the other two?”

“Of course,” Viktor said. “Those are Guadalcanal and Malaita.”

“Good. I should be able to scan all three for sources of assistance from that vantage point.”

“What exactly are you hoping to find?” Aura asked.

It was a reasonable question, but Karin didn’t have any answers.

Aura drew her aside and switched to telepathy. “Look. If you’re shooting in the dark, maybe we should try something else.”

“Like what? Even combined, our magic isn’t strong enough to reach the borderworlds. I was surprised when Leif said he’d visited a couple.”

“Damn it.” Aura’s eyes sheened with tears. “It’s Ketha. We have to get her back.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Karin reverted to normal speech to conserve her magic. “I’m heading out on deck. Maybe I’ll be able to pick up on a source of power before we divert too far off course.”

“No one has ever heeded our call. Even before the Cataclysm, our entreaties to the gods were pro-forma. None of us actually expected them to show up.”

“Taking gods out of the equation, we’re not the only respectable magic-wielders in the universe,” Karin said.

“Damn near. Are you counting the Fae? Or maybe Witches or mages or—”

Without waiting for Aura to come up with more reasons to take imprudent risks, Karin slipped out the door and down the stairs. Behind her, Viktor’s voice droned as he informed everyone about what had happened.

Karin bit her lower lip hard enough to hurt. She wanted Ketha and the whale shifter back too, but they had a task ahead of them. The fate of Earth depended on them reaching Wrangel Island. If they could save their companions without throwing their own lives away, they’d do it. If not, Ketha would have to find her own way back.

She was resourceful, and Karin had faith in her. Apparently, more confidence than Aura was feeling. Footsteps hurried after her, and she recognized Daide and Leif’s energies. “Thought you might need to augment your magic,” Leif said.

“Thanks.”

“What did Aura want?” As usual, Daide’s question cut to the meat of things.

“She’s worried about Ketha.”

“We all are,” Daide said. “And about the whale Shifter.”

“He’s old and ingenious,” Leif cut in. “If there’s a way out of their predicament, he’ll find it. Besides, we can’t hunt them down. It’s not practical. There are hundreds of borderworlds. It would take years to do a methodical search, and none of us has enough magic to accomplish such a thing.”

“The high Arctic isn’t much better,” Karin said. “As I recall, it’s thousands of islands with ocean and ice between them.” She pushed out a door with the men behind her and breathed in the damp air. It wasn’t as semi-tropical as she’d expected, but at least she didn’t risk hypothermia if she didn’t don a hat, gloves, and multiple layers every time she set foot outside.

Karin turned and faced the men. “I admit I had a Joan of Arc moment when I wanted to race after Ketha. Until I realized how foolhardy it would be. And how impossible.”

“Then why are we hunting for an augmentation to our magic?” Daide asked.

“Choices,” Leif answered for her. “The stronger we are, the better prepared. I suspect what transpired on the bridge was only the first salvo. A test to see if they could shanghai us, split us up.”

“I should have recognized that possibility.” Karin balled her hands into fists, frustrated by how easy it had been for the group of malevolent spirits—or whoever they were—to catch them flat-footed.

“Who’s they?” Daide asked, aiming his question at her and Leif.

“The list of possible suspects is long,” Karin replied. “Hard to know where to start.”

“Better not to,” Leif broke in.

“You’re right, of course.” Her hands hurt, but she didn’t release her fists. She had to be more on the ball here. Needed to think, rather than reacting.

“You two are talking in riddles.” Daide sounded exasperated.

“Names hold power,” Karin explained.

“Yes, if you say them, it’s the same as summoning their owners—providing they’re looking for an easy way to access us,” Leif added.

Karin swallowed a grunt. Evil had found them without any added help on their part. They’d been sloppy, not particularly vigilant. Ketha’s failed scrying attempts had provided the underpinnings for a trap, one that had snapped shut.

“This isn’t the time for questions,” Daide said, “but how do you determine which deities or mythological characters to focus on? Each culture has its own. The batch I grew up with were mainly passed on through oral tradition. There are Greco-Roman gods. Norse gods. Celtic gods. A whole passel of Asian gods, although the Chinese and Japanese ones are—”

“Don’t mean to cut you off,” Karin said, “but I know what you’re getting at. Each magical creature has an affinity for a particular pantheon. For Shifters, it’s always been the Celts.”

“How does that work, though?” Daide persisted. “Are Diana, Artemis, and Arianrhod the same?”

“I don’t actually know,” Karin replied. “They’re all virgin huntresses who control the moon and tides. Beyond that, I’ve never questioned whether they’re three manifestations of the same energy.” She rolled the idea around and went on. “The Cataclysm appears to have broken the bonds tying magical beings to a particular place. We found Sirens in Antarctica, Kelpies in New Zealand. Seems to me if they could show up in those locations, we have to be ready for anything.”

“When we broke away from the rest of you, we ended up with Poseidon.” Leif shook his head. “I’ve often wondered why we didn’t stick with Llyr and Manandan.”

“Perhaps to distance yourselves from any of them after you took up with the Witches?” Karin suggested. “Hecate is their goddess, and she’s a Greek.”

“She’s an odd one,” Leif muttered. “Didn’t she rule magic, witchcraft, the night, moon, ghosts, and necromancy?”

“All of the above.” Karin walked to the railing and stared at the horizon. It was developing the pearlescent gray of the coming dawn. “I’m going to open my magic and see if anything resonates.”

“Before you begin, what are we looking for?” Daide asked.

It was an important question, and Karin struggled to articulate a reply. “Several things. I want to home in on whether something wicked is hovering, waiting to strike again.”

“What if they are?” Daide looked so earnest, she wanted to hug him. He was doing his damnedest to understand enough to help her.

“Then we ward the ship as best we can and keep right on sailing north,” Leif replied.

“What about Ketha and the whale Shifter?”

“They’ll have to find their own way back,” Karin murmured, not bothering to add she’d come to that conclusion before she left the bridge. “We’re wasting time. Let me do a quick scan.”

“I’ll open a channel to my magic. Yours will reach farther that way,” Leif said.

Karin licked at dry lips. Leif was strong, but linking with him before had almost killed her. What if some residue from her last run-in with him remained and acted as a magnet?

She angled her gaze at Daide. “I’ll join with you, borrow power from yours.”

A pleased look flared in his eyes, turning them darker still. “Of course. I’ll help any way I can.”

“Probably a better deployment,” Leif agreed. “I’ll stand ready to bail you out if things turn sour.” He gripped her upper arm hard. “Be conservative. No leaping before you look.”

“Got it.” Annoyance intruded, but she pushed it aside. She’d never liked being ordered to do anything, but Leif was right to clarify his expectations. They couldn’t afford to lose any more Shifters.

Karin extended a hand to Daide to make it easier to access his magical center. A small shiver worked its way down her spine at his touch. It would be far too easy to fall headlong into their growing connection, so she reached for his coyote and her wolf.

“Are we all ready for this?”

Her wolf howled, the coyote yipped, and Daide murmured, “Just the four of us, eh?”

Karin sent a quick blast of magic outward in a 180-degree arc. Nothing pinged back at her beyond human and animal life forms.

“If Ketha and the whale return, we should stop here long enough to hunt,” her wolf suggested, longing in its voice. Karin understood. The few hunts they’d gone on after they’d beaten the Cataclysm back had been an appetizer, and the wolf longed for more. So did she.

Flanked by both men, Karin moved to the other side of the bow and repeated her action. Something unusual flagged her attention, but it was too faint to interpret.

“Try again,” Daide urged, so he must have sensed it too.

“Hold up,” Leif said. “If we toss too much power around, we’ll alert anything magical. Let me try this time. My energy has a very different feel from yours.”

“We can trade off, but if something out there is edgy, being bombarded with two types of enchantment will make it run for the hills,” Karin said.

“So will a double dose of your power,” Leif argued.

“All right. We’ll stand guard over you.” Karin extended her magical net until it extended to both men.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do,” Daide said.

“Follow Karin’s lead and you’ll be fine.” Leif squared his shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Karin tracked the dolphin Shifter’s power as it arced from him. It stuttered the same place hers had, and she made a field decision and probed with her own magic. Light exploded, showering them with bright bits of energy. Karin reeled in her magic as fast as she could, hoping the hooks she’d dug into Leif’s power would drag him back with her.

“Take what you need from me.” Daide poured his own brand of energy into her working, exerting backward pressure.

Another kaleidoscopic light show bloomed, accompanied by the piquant scents of greenery and fresh-cut flowers, things she hadn’t sensed in years. Maybe it was the smell, but she grew bold. Lacing compulsion in with her words, she commanded, “Show yourself.”

The lights eddied and shimmered. A tall, imposing woman emerged, floating upright in the air. Black hair shot with silver fell to her bare feet, and her eyes were an ever-moving collage of imagery. A crimson robe richly embroidered with runes was sashed in black and clung to her spare frame like a second skin.

Understanding slammed into Karin, and breath whooshed from her lungs. She bowed deeply. “Ceridwen. You honor me with your presence.”

“Bow all ye like. It doesna excuse ye from disturbing my peace. I had to work to find a corner of the world where I wouldna be disturbed.”

“It’s an honor to lay eyes on you.” Leif bowed so low his forehead hit knee level.

Ceridwen skewered Daide with her unnerving eyes. “Are ye not planning to offer obeisance to me as well, Shifter?” She angled her head to one side, and Daide flinched under her examination. “Aha! Ye were one of the dark ones, and until quite recently. Do ye miss drinking blood, Vampire?”

Karin stepped between them. “Pardon, goddess. He fought on our side to defeat the Cataclysm. In doing so, he earned the right to choose a Shifter bondmate.”

Ceridwen waved a dismissive hand. “The rift that broke the world is scarcely defeated. It gathers dominion even as we stand here. Soon ’twill finish what it began.”

Leif straightened. “Have you come to terms with that? You’re just going to stand back and let it happen?”

The goddess drew her dark brows into a thick, disapproving line. “Show a wee bit of respect. Even if your kind abandoned my pantheon, once ye owed us allegiance.”

“Are the rest of you here too?” Karin asked.

“Pft. No. We went separate ways after the world broke apart.”

“But it didn’t,” Karin protested. “It’s still here.”

Ceridwen shrugged. “For now. Not for much longer. Ye might follow my lead and find a pleasant environment to wait things out.”

Daide stepped away from Karin. “We’re sailing north to close the gateway. Once that’s done—”

The goddess dissolved into laughter. Harsh, derisive laughter that set Karin’s teeth on edge and made her want to slap Ceridwen. “At least we’re trying,” she ground out. “You gave up.”

Ceridwen tossed her head until her hair floated around her. “I recognized the futility of fighting back. There have been many ages since the dawn of time. This is the fifth. Another will rise from the ashes, but none of us will live to see it.”

“Aren’t you immortal?” Daide asked.

She shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. All of us remain as long as there are those who believe in us. Once that goes away, we fade into memory.”

Karin sliced past her fear of annoying the goddess, who’d clearly abdicated from whatever role she’d played before the Cataclysm. “Are any others with power here?”

“Do you mean in these islands?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What possible difference could it make?”

Karin decided she had little to lose by laying her cards face up. “We need help.”

“Aye, that ye do. Closing the gateway is an impossible task, and—”

“We have more pressing concerns,” Daide spoke up.

Karin cringed. He’d interrupted a goddess. Would she strike him dead for his impertinence?

“Let’s hear them.” Ceridwen crooked a long-nailed finger.

“Two of our companions were shanghaied. We need to find them.”

“Ha. I saw that happen and wondered if they were willing participants.”

“Do you know where they are?” Leif moved closer to Ceridwen. “One is a whale Shifter, and only five remain.”

“I’m not daft, young man. I recognized what he was, him and the wolf Shifter with him. They were taken to the far north but didn’t remain there long.”

“Where are they now?” Leif repeated his question.

“Let’s see.” The goddess shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she said, “Come close, dolphin. Read their fate in my eyes.”

Karin crowded behind Leif and stared at pictures floating across the goddess’s milky corneas. Ketha cavorted with other animals in her wolf’s body. The whale was swimming.

Deep within, her wolf growled and then yipped.

“Aye, your bonded one knows,” Ceridwen crooned. “Ask it.”

“Ketha is in the animal’s world,” Karin’s wolf said. Surprise ricocheted through its words.

“You’re certain it’s Ketha and not her wolf by itself?” Karin sought to clarify the impossible.

“Of course, I’m sure.” Her wolf sounded surly.

“How’d she breach the borders of a land that is closed to us?” Karin asked

“I have no idea.”

“The whale is swimming our way,” Leif said, “but it’s thousands of miles from here.”

Ceridwen blinked, and the images cleared, replaced by others.

“Can you help them return to us?” Karin clasped her hands together in supplication.

“Perhaps, but I require a boon in return.”

“And that would be?” Leif asked, clearly more familiar with the way deities operated than Karin.

“Stop a while. Visit with me. ’Tis been many a long year since subjects have venerated me.” She took a step closer; magic shimmered around her. “Ye can regale me with your travels. In particular, I would hear from ye.” She thumped Daide’s chest. “How ye were turned by blood, and how ye rose beyond it.”

Alarms rang in Karin’s mind, and she understood if they took Ceridwen up on her offer, they’d never leave. The goddess would ensorcel them, tempt them with things no one could resist.

Did she dare bargain?

Leif saved her the trouble of figuring it out. He folded his arms across his chest and leveled his gaze at Ceridwen. “We will remain, but not for more than three days. Take it or leave it.”

“Did no one teach ye respect?” The goddess stood toe to toe with Leif.

“They did, but you would hold us here forever, and that must not happen. Even if you believe we’ve set off on a hopeless undertaking, nevertheless we must try.” He softened his tone. “Believe in us, Goddess. Very little has gone our way. My people are almost all dead. If anyone has reason to give up, it’s me. We would appreciate your assistance restoring our companions to their rightful spots by our sides, but not if it costs us our ability to travel to the gateway.”

Karin sucked in a breath and held it. Leif’s words had been powerful, but would they be enough?

The goddess looked away. Long moments dripped past, and Karin expected her to shimmer into nothingness at any moment. When Ceridwen finally looked up, her eyes held sadness.

“I accept your terms, sea Shifter.”

Leif sliced a fingernail through the ball of his thumb and offered his hand. Ceridwen looked surprised but did the same. They clasped hands, and their blood mingled and dripped onto the deck.

“Where shall we find you?” Leif asked.

“Yon island.” She pointed. “I shall do what I can about the wolf and whale Shifters. Until then.” Her form took on an insubstantial aspect.

Before she vanished entirely, Karin said, “Thank you,” but the goddess didn’t reply.

“What just happened?” Daide asked.

“I did the only thing I could think of to force her to keep her word,” Leif said. “Even she can’t wiggle out from under a blood bond.”

“Beyond that, it appeared she agreed to help us in exchange for a few days of our time.” Daide looked from Leif to Karin.

“She did.” The aftermath of too much adrenaline left Karin shaky, energized and drained at the same time. “Come on. We should let Vik know immediately.”

Daide wrapped an arm around her. “How’s your hand?” he asked Leif.

“Fine. I’ve redirected magic to close the wound.”

“What’s wrong?” Daide probed. “You made the best bargain you could.”

“She’s a goddess. Old and canny. And I bound myself to her with blood. She’ll have to honor her agreement, but there’s no way of guessing what will happen in the few days I promised her.” Leif trotted across the broad expanse of deck and vanished inside the ship.

“What do you know about Ceridwen?” Daide steered her toward the same door. “Only thing I recall is she stirs a cauldron.”

“She’s a Welsh medieval goddess,” Karin began, grateful to have a task to center herself. “Stronger by day, she symbolizes change, rebirth, transformation...”