Tempest Rising

“…meet Jane,” Jarl finished, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.



He’s a nasty piece of work, I observed, as Jimmu glided forward toward me.



And this one makes Jeffrey Dahmer seem like Mr. Rogers, my brain concluded, as Jimmu bowed with a sinuous grace that made him that much creepier.



“Jimmu likes nothing better than to meet halflings,” Jarl droned. “Don’t you Jimmu?” Jimmu blinked lethargically and Jarl chuckled, running a hand over Jimmu’s scalp under where the thick Mohawk began. I felt my stomach flip-flop, so freaked out that it forgot to be hungry.



Ryu put a protective arm about my shoulder. “Well, it’s always a pleasure, Jarl,” he said, briskly. “But if you’ll excuse us…” Ryu inclined his head toward the pair, and steered me away. I looked back over my shoulder, a choice I quickly regretted. Jarl was whispering something into Jimmu’s ear, while the latter’s eyes finally exhibited some emotion. The emotion was pure, unadulterated hatred. I quickened my pace, whipping my head around to stare sternly ahead.



“What was that thing?” I hissed, when we were safely through the dining hall doors.



“Which thing?” Ryu asked balefully. “ ‘Thing’ accurately describes either of that pair.”



I shuddered, starting to tremble as my brain replayed the look Jimmu had given me. He made Stuart look like the president of my fan club.



“Either, both, whichever,” I babbled.



Ryu chafed his hands up and down my upper arms, as if to bolster my strength. “Jimmu is a naga; they’re two-formeds. Their second form is, appropriately enough, a serpent.” I nodded—that made sense. “Jarl raised Jimmu and his nestmates from the egg.” I pulled a face, but Ryu was clearly not joking. “Jimmu was the first to hatch, so he’s the strongest as well as the most bonded to Jarl. Nagas are like really deadly chickens—they bond to the first person they see when they emerge from their eggs. Anyway, Jarl claims to love his nagas like a father, but they’re really his puppets. They do whatever he commands.” Ryu’s voice was grim.



“As for Jarl, he is, as I said, Orin and Morrigan’s second-in-command. He is Orin’s brother—older by a few hundred years but less potent in strength.”



“And he obviously doesn’t like me,” I added.



Ryu blanched. “Jarl possesses little tolerance for humans,” Ryu explained in what I had a feeling was the understatement of the decade. “And even less for halflings, I’m afraid.” Ryu took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something. “Jane, there are beings in our world who resent halflings—some even hate them.” I tried not to roll my eyes. No shit, Sherlock, I thought, recalling the feel of Jimmu’s and Jarl’s eyes on me.



“Most of us will accept you, and many, like me, feel that you are as necessary for our survival as you are, quite simply, good for our existence.” He paused, thinking. “Our kind need… shaking up. We need new blood, new ideas, new voices.” He smiled at me, running a finger across my cheek and over my lips. “Especially when those voices come from lips as sweet as yours,” he finished, leaning forward for a kiss.



I knew he was trying to distract me, and it worked. I had a funny feeling this wouldn’t be the last time the subject of my halfling status came up, but for now I let it drop. I was used to being despised and I was hungry. My stomach had recovered from its introduction to the Creepy Twins, and it had started doing something I can only compare to kicking me in the spine. My eyes looked appealingly at the food spread out only feet from us.



Ryu laughed, following my gaze. “C’mon, Jane. I don’t want you to starve to death,” he sighed. “I think you only like me because I feed you.”



I had already grabbed a plate and was piling it high. But I spared a moment to turn back to him. “Actually, I like you because you play my kiki like Jimi Hendrix played his guitar.” I grinned lasciviously at the shocked look he gave me, then laughed as his fangs ran out, warp speed. He reached a hand out for me, but I danced away, grabbing a drumstick as I moved.



I left him there, shaking his head, while I finished filling my plate. I knew I’d pay for that comment later, when we were alone.



At least I certainly hoped so.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



After I ate, I could barely keep my eyes open. We’d found an out of the way corner to chow down, and between the food and the stresses of the day I was nodding off like a narcoleptic. I was propped up against Ryu, who had a faraway look in his eyes. I think he was going over everything he’d seen today. I let him mull, until a particularly fierce yawn nearly popped my jaw off.



Ryu narrowed his eyes at me. “You need to swim,” he declared.



“Hmm?” I asked, sleepily.



“You need to swim. Your reserves are low; you need access to water.”



What he said made sense. Instead of my normal four or five hours of sleep, I’d slept about seven the past two nights. Yet here I was, dead on my feet and it was only nine o’clock.



“There’s a pool out back. It’s like an artificial ocean, for when water elementals visit the Compound. The Alfar keep it charged. We can go now, if you like.”



I leaned my head against his shoulder, and he smoothed a hand over my hair. Part of me was enjoying just sitting here, supernatural-people watching. I had a full belly, a chair on which to rest my still-sore feet, and a handsome man massaging my neck. But the thought of water was very tempting, and after a minute more of soaking up Ryu’s ministrations, I clambered to my feet.



“Are you sure there’s nothing else you need to get done here, tonight?” I asked.



Ryu frowned. “No. Nyx doesn’t seem to be in attendance, and I don’t want to tip her off by asking about her. Nobody moves a muscle in this Compound without everybody else knowing. So we’ll see if she’s here tomorrow night, and if she’s not we’ll change plans.” He shrugged. “In the meantime, we may as well enjoy ourselves.” He ostentatiously flexed his fingers. “I need to get some practice time in, after all,” he said, arching an eyebrow at me. I felt a flush of heat in my groin at the same time as I managed a little laugh.



When he took my hand, I was more than happy to follow.



We took another side door and were greeted by a long passage strewn with variously sized and shaped doorways. Now that I was a little less dazed by the sheer magnitude of everything around me, I was soaking up more of the details. That said, if asked, I don’t know if I could actually describe what I saw, since the décor in the Compound was unlike anything I’d ever seen. I can only describe it as what you’d get if you imagined time-traveling sorcerers with a penchant for antiquing trying to achieve a modernist look that incorporated natural materials. So basically, it was a complete hodge-podge of styles and yet it was, itself, a coherent style. It reminded me a little bit of the steampunk aesthetic of movies like The League of Extraordinary Gentleman or The Golden Compass, rather than the cathedral-like elven cities of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings or the sleek minimalism of the vampire hidey-holes in Blade. And yet, although it was beautiful, there was a practical and lived-in feel to the Compound. It certainly wasn’t a human municipal building, and it was luxurious. Nonetheless, it was obviously designed to work for the creatures inhabiting it.



After walking for what felt like forever, we finally emerged into a beautifully cobbled courtyard. Large conifers lined the walls, and the cobblestones were different colors, forming a mosaic of a tree whose branches intertwined with its own roots. I recognized the symbol: a Celtic tree of life. Who influenced whom? I thought. Did humans just forage ideas and symbols from the supes, or have humans had their own impact? Thinking about the king and queen, and their paradoxical combination of power and lethargy, I was starting to understand how the latter was a distinct possibility.



We exited the courtyard through an ornate iron gate in one wall, and before us stretched a large faux-lagoon thingy, complete with waterfall. It was surrounded by lush vegetation, and there were various little nooks and crannies, some partially hidden, where there were shallow places to sit or lie down in the water. Suddenly, I realized what I was looking at.



“Ew, is this a sex grotto?” I asked Ryu. “’Cause that is so Hugh Hefner.” I wrinkled my nose. “Gross.”



Ryu looked at me, feigning dignity. “We do not have sex grottos,” he sniffed. “This is a love lagoon. Or a petting pool. Or a fornication fountain. But never a sex grotto.”



I giggled, just as Ryu reached out and, with a flick of his nimble fingers, undid my wrap.



“Yowza,” I mumbled, as it fell open. He pushed my dress down off my shoulders, at the same time pulling me toward him for a kiss. In the next ten seconds my panties were around my ankles and my bra was unhooked. This guy is good, I admitted to myself, begrudgingly.



But so am I, I thought, as I wiggled free of both my clothes and his grasp to dive into the pool. Catch me if you can!



As soon as I hit the water, I gasped. If swimming in my ocean made me feel like I’d had a few espressos, this was the equivalent of shooting heroin. Power surged into me, erasing my weariness and sending heady waves of energy through my limbs. I also sucked in a mouthful of water, some of which went right down my windpipe.