Karin lurched back to awareness as Leif carried her through the corridor. A bizarre, Fellini-esque consciousness where she watched herself from the sidelines through wavy glass that splintered her vision. When she tried to move, she couldn’t. Paralysis had set in. Dying was like this. You lost control over your body from the periphery inward.

Dammit! Who fucking cares. This isn’t a physiology text. It’s my life for chrissakes.

Karin reached for her wolf, relieved by its steady presence. “You should leave,” she told it, surprised telepathy was still within her grasp. “I’m dying, and—”

“None of that!” The wolf’s familiar voice cracked like a bullwhip. “The sea Shifter will help us.”

Karin was so out of it, she’d nearly forgotten Leif. Stupid of her since he’d just laid her on a table, which meant she had to be in one of the dining rooms. While she struggled to wrap her fading mental processes around what that meant, he ran his hands over her.

Magic flared, skidding through her from top to bottom and side to side. It tingled and burned. A million stinging bees couldn’t have been much worse. She groaned and tried to escape his questing fingers, but they were all over her without any regard for propriety.

“Wolf Shifter.” Leif’s voice buzzed, leaping from one side of her brain to the other in a symphony gone wild. “Can you hear me?” He gripped her right hand. “Squeeze if you can.”

She did her damnedest, but her fingers weren’t any more cooperative than the rest of her.

Telepathy. I can use telepathy.

Ridiculously grateful she’d figured even such a small thing out, she said, “Yes, but I’m paralyzed.”

His blue eyes widened in surprise. At least her vision hadn’t given up the ghost, but then it would be one of the last things to go. Controlled by the optic and oculomotor nerves, numbers two and three respectively of the twelve cranial nerves—

Karin would have laughed if a few of her other cranial nerves had been more cooperative. Her med school professors would be proud their lessons transcended death.

I am not dead yet, she lectured herself, punctuated by a growl from her wolf.

“Since you can hear me,” Leif said, “the next things to happen won’t be pleasant, yet if I do not proceed, you will die. I must reclaim what is mine. Our magics were never meant to comingle in a single body.” He bent until his head was even with hers and augured his strange eyes into hers. “You should have said something. This would have been far easier even twenty-four hours ago.”

“I didn’t want to bother anyone, and I was certain I’d get better. What are you going to do?” Karin tried to tilt her head, but it didn’t work any better than her other efforts at movement.

“Better if you don’t know. Trust me. Believe in my magic. It’s stronger than yours, and I owe you my life. I will do everything in my power to return the favor.” He glanced at the other dolphin Shifters ranged around her impromptu gurney—or bier. “My pod will assist me.”

As if he’d cued them, the dolphins began to chant. At first, she heard music, but then it shaded to squeaks, squeals, and grunts, not unlike whale song she’d listened to. A booming filled her ears, and water rushed over her, sharp with the tang of the sea.

Panic crushed her, along with the weight of the water. She tried to hold her breath, but it was a lost cause. Water rushed into her lungs, and she cursed herself for a fool. Why had she trusted a sea Shifter? The ones who’d rather spit on their land cousins than say good morning.

I trusted him because I had no choice. I’d lapsed into unconsciousness when he snatched me up.

Her mind spun crazily, latching onto one meaningless thing after another. Was this how her life would end? Drowned by a dolphin?

Her bondmate. Her wolf. “Are you still here?” she cried, her mind voice fuzzy with her ebbing energy.

“I am. Hang on, heart of mine. They’re nearly done.”

Bright lights flared, and Karin felt herself drawn toward them. She understood what was happening. Random neurons were firing in her dying brain. “You have to go,” she insisted. “I will not cause your death. Return to the animals’ world, and—”

“Enough,” the wolf snarled. “The woman I’ve been linked to for two centuries is not a coward. Believe in us. In your life.”

A snap sharp as a guillotine blade sent shock waves through her, and the water left as quickly as it had come. Hands pushed hard on her back, driving water out through her lungs and nose, but she still couldn’t move. Couldn’t even blink.

How could she be dead and still sense what was happening around her? Ketha was the one pounding on her back. Daide joined her, and they did a credible job at CPR. Karin wanted to tell them to keep going, Not to give up. She wanted to thank them. She struggled, decided she was making this way too hard, and reached for her magic. A paw closed over her hand, claws raking flesh, and the two of them punched through the shroud that held her prisoner.

The brilliant, beckoning white light exploded into bits of nothingness.

A cough racked her, deep and burning and insistent, followed by several more. Daide flipped her onto her side just in time for bloody vomit to fly from her mouth—probably from her lungs too. More pounding on her back. More coughing, each fit feeling like it ripped cells from every organ within her.

None of that mattered. She was alive. Jubilation careened through her until she felt drunk. And why not? Being drunk and throwing up went together. Another series of heaves rocked her, but they cleared her lungs and airway.

Ketha knelt and gathered her into arms that trembled. “Thank the goddess you’re as tough as you are,” she muttered and planted a kiss on Karin’s forehead.

“Too mean to die,” Karin choked out between coughs. “Jesus, I feel like warmed over dogshit.”

Leif moved Ketha aside and pushed Karin’s wet curly white hair out of her face. “Be grateful you feel anything, wolf Shifter,” he admonished. “The dead feel nothing.”

“Why’d you almost drown me?” She struggled to a sit.

“Not a quick answer for that.” Leif sat next to her. When her uncooperative muscles threatened to dump her onto the floor, he put an arm around her shoulders to stabilize her.

“See?” Her wolf sounded insufferably smug. “Told you. If you’re going to pick anyone to believe, it should be me.”

“I do believe in you, dear heart,” Karin said. “But that belief was sorely tested. I knew I was dying, if not already dead. For you to argue I wasn’t felt like wishful thinking on your part.”

“I may love you,” the wolf said, “but I’d never lie about something as important as our survival.”

Karin could have hugged it. “Apologies. Don’t mind me.”

“For now, I won’t.” A whuffling gurgle that was probably laughter rippled from her belly, finding its way out her mouth.

“Where are you going?” Ketha called.

Karin focused her still-groggy brain and understood the question was aimed at Daide, who was most of the way across the room. She wanted to thank him, but before she could get the words out, he was gone. “Nice job on CPR,” she mumbled. “Be sure and let Daide know.”

Ketha snorted. “I will. Coming from you, Madam Doctor, that’s high praise.”

“You asked about your near-drowning experience,” Leif said. “I had to immerse you in water to loosen the bits of me that you’d retained. Luckily, there weren’t too many of them, and they came to me willingly enough when I called. I’m mostly a creature of the water. Not true for you. You’re primarily linked to land. Because sea Shifter magic is stronger, it fought for ascendency, and it wouldn’t have stopped until it drove you into the sea.”

“A place she couldn’t survive,” Ketha said.

“Precisely.” Leif nodded. He gazed at the other dolphin Shifters, who’d moved into a semicircle around them. “You did well. You may leave to refresh yourselves as you choose.”

One of two women inclined her head. Black hair scraped the floor and her violet eyes shone warmly. “We are grateful you survived, wolf Shifter.”

A chorus of “yes” and “open waters and wind at your back” rose from the others. They filed from the room chattering in the same honks and squeaks Karin had heard before. “You speak your sea language as humans.”

“We do,” Leif concurred. “How do you communicate with your bond animals?”

“Telepathy in whatever language is primary for the human. The animals know every language.”

Leif made a grunting noise. “You don’t want to know what my dolphin thinks about that.”

“Probably not.” Ketha screwed her face into a thoughtful expression. “I almost hate to ask, but have you been in communication with your lieges?”

Leif furled his brows. “Poseidon and Amphitrite?”

“Who else?” Ketha muttered.

“The answer to that is no.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “They do not come to my call, and believe me I attempted to reach them over the long years of what you labeled the Cataclysm. Even when they never answered, I continued to try anyway. Informed them how desperate our plight was.”

“Surely, they must have known,” Karin said. Compassion for the dolphin warmed her, but made her sad too. “Whale song carrying news of each whale dying must have reached them.”

“You would think.” Bitterness lined his words, and he gazed at Ketha. “Why did you ask about the sea gods?”

“We’re nearly in Invercargill. It would be lovely for us to sail in and out of there without incident, but it hasn’t happened yet. Every single place we’ve stopped has held unpleasant surprises.”

“You were hoping for a god or two to fight on our side?” He shook his head. “Best of luck to you. If they bypassed us and our plight, it’s not likely they’ll lift a finger for you and yours.” He stood. “My dolphins and I will provide what aid we can. And I’m certain the whales will mount a defense once they’re cured of the parasites. You do still plan to treat them?”

“Oh my yes,” Karin said.

“Mmph. Then why did the veterinarian run out of here as if a shiver of sharks was after him?”

“He’s had a hard go of it,” Ketha explained.

“Hopefully, that’s all it is,” Leif muttered. “He seemed put out about something. Do you feel like eating a little?” he asked Karin.

Her insides felt scoured, raw, but food would help her recover. “Sure. Maybe some soup and tea.”

“I was thinking a stiff belt of whiskey,” Ketha said.

Karin’s stomach rolled over onto itself. “God, no. Not booze. Things are unsettled enough in here.” She patted her midsection.

“Good choice.” Leif extended a hand and helped her to her feet. “Sea Shifters do not drink anything alcoholic. It interferes with our power. If you come with me, I will warm something nourishing for you in the ship’s galley.”

Karin leaned against him. “Thank you. That would be appreciated.”

“I’ll head up to the bridge once you’re settled,” Ketha said. “I’ve been expecting Viktor to announce ‘land ho’ any time. Surprised it hasn’t happened yet.”

“I can come up there after I’m done eating.” Karin smiled gamely.

Ketha shook her head. “I don’t think so. Rest up. Save your energy for the whales. In case you have to help Daide and Recco.”

Karin tottered toward the door leading across the hall into the other dining room. The larger eating area backed onto the galley. Ketha placed a hand under her elbow and helped Leif keep her upright.

“Damn. I hate feeling this feeble.” Karin inhaled deeply. Maybe if she could move more air into her lungs, she wouldn’t pitch onto her face. She yelped as the deep breath made her abraded bronchial cells burn like crazy.

“It will pass.” Ketha helped her sit at a table, and Leif disappeared into the galley. “I’ll wait until your meal arrives.”

“You’re not fooling me.” Karin kept hold of Ketha’s steadying hand. “You don’t trust me on my own. I wouldn’t trust me either at this point.”

“Shifters heal fast,” Ketha reminded her. “You’ll feel ever so much better in a few hours. Have you seen Recco and Zoe lately?”

“Trying to give me something to think about other than my own misery, eh? I recognize that ploy. Used it myself a time or two.” She chuckled. “Yes, I’ve seen them. They’re disgustingly immersed in one another. Nothing like getting laid after a long hiatus to bring a glow to your cheeks and a shine to—”

Ketha jabbed her in the ribs. “I’m happy for them. And for Juan and Aura too.”

“So am I, sweetie. We had such a miserable decade in Ushuaia, we deserve every single good thing that comes our way. I was being my usual, irascible self.”

“I heard some of that.” Leif crossed the room balancing a tray.

Karin inhaled hungrily. “Smells wonderful. I didn’t think I could choke down more than a bite or two. In truth, I was humoring both of you by coming in here, but I’m about to make a liar out of myself.”

“Good.” Ketha exchanged a pointed look with Leif and stood. “Take care of her.”

“No worries on that subject.” Leif set the tray in front of Karin and sat in the seat Ketha had vacated.

Karin picked up a spoon and dipped it into what smelled like a rich chicken broth. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked Leif.

“Later. In the sea.” He smiled broadly. “Now that fish are returning, it’s such a pleasure to dine again.”

“What did you eat before?” Karin spooned soup into her mouth, following it with a bite of biscuit.

“Whatever we could find. When the seas yielded nothing, we took our human forms and ate vegetation and small mammals.” He made a distasteful face. “None of us liked it, but the alternative was starvation.”

“We ate plenty of rats in Ushuaia,” Karin said. “Never got used to them. They have a bitter taste.” She valued directness, and dished it out. No point beating around the bush when you wanted to know something.

“I see a question forming in your mind. You have my permission to ask.”

She straightened from her slump and eyed him. “Since when do I require your permission for anything?”

He shook his head, nostrils flaring. “Poor choice of words. When you’ve been an alpha as long as I have, sometimes things slip out.”

“Tell me what you know about how our magics carved out such divergent pathways. Were we ever similar enough to share power?”

“You might be better served asking one of the whales. They’re truly ancient, and out of all the sea Shifters, they were the only ones who almost never took their human forms.”

“They why be a Shifter at all?” Karin dipped her spoon into her bowl, surprised to find it empty.

Leif steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on them. “Sorry. I’m not being clear. Long ago, maybe as much as two millennia, we were all the same. Obviously, we’d bonded with different types of animals, but our abilities and magic were indistinguishable. We also walked proud in those days. Humans revered us, saw us as gods...”

A shadow crossed his face. “The Christian era brought many changes. Men no longer respected magic or magical beings. Instead, they viewed us as anathema and began burning and hanging us.”

“It couldn’t have only been Shifters,” Karin cut in and polished off the last crumbs of bread on her plate. “Hang onto the answer to that. I’m going to get myself a tiny bit more since what I’ve eaten seems to be settling.”

Ridiculously pleased by how much stronger she felt—anything would have been a striking improvement—she crossed to the galley and plopped another biscuit onto her plate. Instead of eating it plain, she slathered this one with tinned apricot preserves, all the while blessing a food industry that had figured out how to produce products that didn’t spoil.

She returned to the table and sat, licking jam off her fingers.

Relief shone from Leif’s eyes, a pale blue this time. “You truly are better. I can rest easier now. The first span of time is the most critical. Back to our discussion. Of course it wasn’t only Shifters. Mages, Druids, Witches, even Vampires were targeted. The prudent course was to hide our magical ability. It was far easier for land Shifters, since you’d always preferred your human bodies.”

“Not so easy for you, though.” Karin chewed and swallowed, enjoying the flaky pastry as it broke apart on her tongue.

Sadness rolled from him in waves. “The Selkies came to us for protection. We failed them, but then we could scarcely protect ourselves. At that point, our magic was exactly like yours, and we weren’t able to spend long periods in the sea. Our power was unpredictable. We had little warning when it would break apart. If a human saw us shift, that was the end of things. We were killed on the spot, or dragged before a kangaroo court that tried us without benefit of judge or jury.”

“What happened?” Karin rested her chin on an upraised hand. Even though Leif’s story was hideous, he was easy to listen to.

His gaze skittered away from hers, and his cheeks turned ruddy. “We made a bargain with the Witches. That was when our power changed and was no longer like yours.”

Karin’s eyes widened. In a spontaneous gesture, she gathered a magical net and draped it around him, testing his magic. Sure enough, Witch power burned behind the scenes. Truncated, it slotted perfectly with Shifter energy, essentially vanishing unless she’d known to look for it.

“That’s quite an elegant spell,” she said.

He made a sour face. “Sneaky is more like it, but it was the best we could come up with. The price was high, rather akin to selling your soul to the devil.”

“No way back, eh?”

“About the size of it. Poseidon and Amphitrite were furious, but we’d begged them to intervene before we sealed the Witch bargain, and they ignored us.”

“I’m guessing it’s a pattern for them.” She shrugged. “Not that I have any right to criticize. The Celtic gods never showed themselves to any of us. Not the Greco-Roman crew, either. Or the Norse batch. It was a clean sweep.”

“Have you had enough?” He cast a pointed look at her plate, now empty for the second time.”

Karin nodded. “Did you ever ask the Witches to unwind their casting?”

“I have no idea. That’s a whale question. My best guess was we grew used to the new normal and spent more and more time in the sea. Our marine nature was a boon after the Cataclysm hit. I’m not sure any of us would have survived if we’d been stuck in a town. Humans are a superstitious lot, even the modern variety. They’d have wanted someone to blame for the disaster, and magic-wielders would have risen to the top of the heap fast.”

“Didn’t work that way in Ushuaia. Humans were suspicious at first, but then they welcomed our assistance.”

“Because they had no choice.” Leif leveled his gaze her way.

“True enough. Thank you for taking care of me.” Karin laid a hand over his and stood. “I believe I’ll find my way to my cabin. Ketha was right to give me hell when I said I’d show up on the bridge.”

Leif scrambled to his feet. “I’ll ferry your dishes back to the galley and then retire to the sea.”

“Thank your pod for me.”

“I will.”

The PA system crackled, and Karin stopped halfway to the door.

“We’ll be dropping anchor in half an hour,” Viktor’s deep voice with its hint of a German accent rumbled. “Everyone but Karin head to the bridge for a briefing now.”

She felt torn, but she’d do a whole lot better if she put her feet up for even half an hour. Nodding to herself, she made for the door.

“Still going to your cabin?” Leif asked.

“Yup.” Karin said over one shoulder.

“Good. I will make certain you know the gist of this briefing.”

She turned to face him. “I thought you’d be in the sea.”

He picked up her small stack of dishes. “My pod will need to know what Viktor has in mind too. I’m the only one left aboard, so I’m the logical choice to respond to his summons.”

“Even though you’d prefer it otherwise.”

His sadness from earlier shimmered around him in dark blue swirls shot with black spots. “We rarely get to pick our preferences, land Shifter.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” She plodded out the swinging door and dragged herself up one flight, her inertia from earlier back with a vengeance.

Her bunk looked so inviting, she dove into its soft folds and was asleep before she could dissect Leif’s story. She’d wanted to analyze it and overlay everything she knew about Witches, but it would have to wait.