Tempest's Legacy

“Jane?” Ryu answered on the fourth ring.



“Hey, Ryu. What’s up?”



“Nothing, I just wanted to hear your voice.”



My libido purred in response, even as I rolled my eyes at Ryu’s line. The baobhan sith had graduated magna cum laude with a degree in Romance Schmomance, something I found both endearing and irritating.



“Jane, did you hear me?”



“Yes. Sorry, Ryu. It’s been a long week. Thanks, I miss you, too.”



Liar, my virtue thought petulantly.



No you’re not, my ever-irrepressible libido grumbled.



“What are you doing?”



“I’m out for drinks at the Sty with Iris, Sarah, and Marcus. Grizzie and Tracy are on their way.”



“How is everybody?”



“Fine. Tracy’s pregnant!” I said, remembering I hadn’t yet told him the news.



“Really?”



“Yup! Three months. They’re doing great. Tracy’s freaking out because she’s already starting to show, but that’s just because—”



“That’s great news, Jane,” Ryu interrupted rather rudely, considering I was telling him something so important. “But how are you?”



I paused before answering, knowing something was up. Whatever his flaws, Ryu usually had impeccable social grace. So not only was it weird that he interrupted me like that, but his voice was odd and really intense.



“I’m doing good,” I replied cautiously. “Work’s the same. Training-wise, I managed to crack that magical probe I’ve been stuck on, finally. And I trounced Trill in a duel the other day.” I’d been working my ass off on offensive magics, and I was doing pretty well. Getting kidnapped by Con and having the crap kicked out of me by Graeme had been pretty good motivation, plus the lessons I’d learned from Anyan about manifesting my power had stood me in good stead. I’d discovered I had surprisingly aggressive magic at my disposal, considering I was half-selkie. I just had to get comfortable with the idea of Jane True: Offensive Hybrid.



“Turns out,” I joked, using my sassy voice, “I’m the kind of seal who clubs back.”



“That’s great,” Ryu replied, his voice still distracted. He paused, and when he spoke again he sounded even more intense.



“You know I’m always here for you, right?”



What the fuck? I thought.



“Okay,” I said.



“I mean that. I’ll always be here for you, baby.”



Ryu was being more than a little dramatic, but drama and Ryu went together like cheese and… Well, cheese goes with everything.



“Thanks. I’m here for you, too,” I added lamely.



“I’ll let you get back to your friends.”



“Um, okay. Thanks for calling.”



Ryu didn’t respond for a second, and then when he did, his voice was resoundingly portentous.



“Remember what I said, Jane. We’ll talk again soon.”



With those cryptic words, he hung up. I blinked at my phone, wondering what the hell he was up to, until I heard a car door slam from the parking lot in front of me.



It was my old arch-nemesis, Linda Allen, and her current boyfriend, Mark, the postal worker I’d nearly dated awhile ago until he’d learned of my sordid, suicidal history and dumped me like a hot potato.



Things were different nowadays, and Linda and Mark merely smiled politely at me as they passed. Granted, I’d nudged them with a little glamour a few weeks ago, which had made them want to be polite to Jane. But somewhere along the line, I’d also stopped being someone who took shit.



I watched Mark open the Sty’s door for Linda, and I felt a twinge of sadness. I’d been so used to being alone after Jason died, but then Ryu had shaken up my world as if it were a snow globe. He’d reminded me of what it was like to have someone, and I missed that connection. I also really missed the nookie, but at least I had a drawerful of sex toys from Grizzie to make up for it. That said, pocket rockets didn’t open doors for you or hold your hand, nor were they great conversationalists.



Then again, sex toys are rarely, if ever, complicated, I thought, jumping as someone grabbed my ass.



I calmed my breathing and dropped the magical shields I’d thrown up the minute I was touched. I know that pinch, I thought, turning to find Grizzie behind me, leering. “Think of the devil,” I said drily, “and she gooses you.”



“You were obviously thinking about something,” my tall friend said, laughing as she hugged me. “I was stomping away in my big-girl boots, and you didn’t bat an eyelash.”



“Off in my own world again.” I shrugged, watching as Tracy waddled up next to her life partner.



“I’m getting fat,” she wheezed.



“You’re not fat,” I chided as I went to hug her. “You’re pregnant.”



When I released her, Tracy pointedly looked down at her belly.



“With twins,” I conceded, giving her already bulging stomach a little pat.



“Twin sumo wrestlers.” Grizzie chortled, for which I shot her the evil eye.



“Never again,” Tracy mumbled as I held the door open for her. “Next time, Ms. Montague, you get turkey basted and I point and laugh.”



I smiled as they bickered over who would next get knocked-up. Grizzie kept arguing about her “girlish figure,” but I knew she was being blasé and was actually looking forward to her turn at being up the duff.



We chitchatted a bit before walking inside. Bars in Maine had been smoke-free forever, which was great as it meant we could hang out at the Sty despite Tracy’s being pregnant. My two human friends had integrated pretty seamlessly with Rockabill’s little supernatural contingent. Granted, they knew nothing about our “real” identities, but it didn’t matter so much with this crowd, who had highly developed human personas and were happy to have Grizzie and Tracy around. Not least because Grizzie took the pressure off. If anyone looked like some creature out of mythology, it was Grizelda Montague. While Tracy was dressed in her usual long-sleeved polo shirt and carpenter-cut jeans, her life partner was wearing a skintight PVC jumpsuit, and had braided her long black hair up into a Princess Leia bun on each side of her head. For a Wednesday night out at the Pig Sty in Rockabill, Maine, population 1,003.



Grizzie rocked.



Marcus helped the mother-to-be into the booth he’d just vacated, next to Iris, and then went to get another round of drinks and an orange juice for Tracy. Grizzie pulled up a chair to sit at the end of the table, next to Tracy, as Sarah slid out of the booth to go help Marcus with the drinks. I listened to Grizzie squelch around in her PVC, then slid back in to sit across from the succubus. Everyone started talking at once, but, as good friends do, we turned it all into a great conversation.



Soon enough, Sarah came back with drinks and started talking with Tracy and Grizzie about their pregnancy. Iris took her opportunity to lean across the table and gossip.



“Was it Ryu?” she asked, her voice honeysuckle sweet.



“Yeah.”



“I could tell by your face. What did he want?”



“I don’t know, actually. He was being typically cryptic.”



“Are you going to see him?”



“He said something about seeing me, but he didn’t seem to have any particular plans. Girl, what the fuck am I going to do with him?” I groaned, dropping my forehead down onto the table in defeat.



“Well, first I’d tie him up. Then I’d start with a feather and a Dustbuster…”



“Iris! I meant… not that. I meant what am I going to do about him and me.”



“Oh. I don’t know. I’m only good with the sex stuff. Relationships are another matter entirely.”



I blanched, feeling inconsiderate. I’d only very recently learned that Iris had been in love with a human, ages ago, with whom she’d borne a child. The child had been entirely nonmagical, and both her son and her husband had died of old age while she remained young and strong. Iris had been gutted and hadn’t had a real relationship since.



“I’m sorry, Iris.”



“Oh, don’t be. It’s fine. But we were talking about you and Ryu.”



I knew Iris didn’t like talking about her past, so I let her change the subject.



“I just hate that we’re tiptoeing around each other like this. And I do care about him, but it’s so complicated.”



“And there’s Anyan,” Iris whispered, dropping her voice so only I could hear.



I snorted. Don’t get me wrong: I wanted to do things to Anyan that would make Casanova blush. But for every fantasy I had about the barghest involving handcuffs and drizzled honey, I had an equally vivid fantasy about slapping him across the face. I felt we’d really connected when we were in Boston, and he’d said he felt bad about not being there for me. Then he’d gone MIA the minute I was back in Rockabill. I felt rejected. And stupid for feeling that way, since I had no right to such emotions. We’d never really been more to each other than acquaintances. But I still felt angry at him, even though I knew it was irrational. It was the illogical ire of unrequited love, and I wasn’t strong enough to resist its temptation.