Tempest's Legacy

He stood then, and was about to say something more when I was attacked from behind by a weeping dryad.



“Elspeth,” I cried, throwing my arms around my former lady’s maid. She was hysterical, but I was just glad to find her alive after all the kerfuffle. Before he walked away to attend to business, Anyan gave me a smile that was full of promise. Then I watched him stride off into the hall, toward where Ryu, Wally, Nyx, and a few other of the more powerful members of court were conferencing.



The next twenty-four hours were a blur. I comforted Elspeth and tried to stay out of the way while the supes sorted out what to do in terms of a leader. It was Anyan who suggested that they vote, like humans. Everyone stared at him for a bit, and then tried to vote for him. But he refused their nomination.



And so the power fell to the next two most obvious candidates. Unable to choose between them, both were elected interim leaders. I watched as Ryu and Nyx shook hands, agreeing to share power and defend the Territory until a proper leader could be found. Ryu’s face was flushed, and he almost glowed with pride. I was happy for him. But I was even happier I didn’t have to be at his side.



Anyan and I left quietly the following evening without telling anyone but Caleb. He’d keep our leaving secret till we were back in Rockabill. He also promised Anyan to inform him of everything that occurred when we were gone.



The barghest and I drove to the local airfield that was, unknown to the tiny local human population, entirely staffed by supes loyal to the Compound. We chartered Orin and Morrigan’s private jet—as neither of them would be using it anytime soon—to fly to Eastport where Anyan’s motorcycle was waiting, safe in one of the hangars.



The plane was a Gulfstream six-seater thingie, so Anyan and I sat across the aisle from each other. My libido kept urging me to sit on his lap, but my virtue was glad of the slight reprieve. It was going to take me quite some time to adjust to the idea that Anyan and I might just be a possibility.



Besides, we had a lot to talk about.



“Wanna talk?” the barghest asked, echoing my thoughts as he turned so that he was squished up on his right arm, his right cheek laid against the headrest. He looked sleepy.



“About what?” I asked, imitating his body position so that we lay almost as if we were girls at a sleepover, separated by the length of our sleeping bags.



“About how you feel, now that everything is over. About your mom. And Jarl.”



I thought about what Anyan was asking. As usual, of course, he was right; I did have a lot to think about. When all of this had started, I knew that part of the reason I wanted to be involved in the investigation was because it allowed me to run away from reality. But reality was like an annoying houseguest and couldn’t be ignored for long.



“Up until what that goblin said at the Compound, I had been feeling better. I hadn’t been thinking through everything consciously, but I think that I was chewing through it on some unconscious level. Letting everything simmer in the back of my brain, I guess.”



“And?”



“Well, I think the hardest thing was letting go of the fantasy that someday I’d meet her again. But part of me always knew that was a fantasy. So that part of me is being practical and reminding me that nothing has changed. I said good-bye to my mother a long time ago; now I can know it’s final.”



“But?” Anyan asked.



“There’s always a but, isn’t there?” I asked. The barghest smiled in response.



“Well, it still hurts. And I hate how she died. That makes me very angry. The fact that my mother was just kidnapped and disposed of ‘accidentally’ bothers me. I know it shouldn’t; I know it’s completely illogical that the idea of her dying by ‘accident’ really bothers me, but it does. I know I would be just as upset, maybe more, if Jarl had kidnapped my mother on purpose, to get at me. But still… that word, ‘accident,’ really sticks in my craw.” I realized then how good it felt to talk to Anyan about my mom. It felt right.



“How do you feel about what Winston said about your mother having other children?” Anyan asked, gently.



“Did you know?” I countered, both hoping he had known, so he could tell me about them, but also fearing he’d kept something so big from me.



“Nope. I only knew Mari when she moved into Rockabill. Sea-folk keep to themselves, otherwise.”



I felt relief wash through me: relief tinged with an edge of disappointment that I now had one more mystery hanging over my head.



“Maybe when everything is over, and Jarl is caught, I can start thinking about the fact I may have half-brothers or -sisters running around,” I said, answering Anyan’s original question. “But right now, my biggest worry is that I need to tell my dad that Mom’s dead, but I don’t know how.”



The barghest nodded thoughtfully. “My advice would be to tell him as much of the truth as you can. Tell him that part of the reason you left on this trip was you thought you had a lead on your mother. That you investigated and discovered she was dead. You stayed to help put her affairs in order. He doesn’t need the gory details.”



I thought about that. “That makes sense.”



“But?”



It was my turn to smile. “But what do I tell him about why she left?”



“Well,” the barghest said, his nose twitching in thought. “You can tell him the truth about that as well. That you know there was a reason she had to leave, but despite that fact she still loved both of you very much.”



“That makes it sound like she was a crack addict, Anyan.”



“The ocean is sort of like crack, for selkies,” he added, shrugging.



I sat up and stretched, then looked out the window. We weren’t that far from Eastport, I figured, after looking at the time on my phone. Finally, I turned back to the big man next to me. His eyes were shut, and I noticed the shadows under his eyes.



I know the perfect way to send him to sleep, my libido purred. But I ignored the ensuing lewd suggestions, concentrating instead on studying the craggy face in front of me.



“What?” he rumbled after a few minutes, startling me.



“Um,” I fumbled. “Just thinking about what you said.”



“And?”



“And it’s a good idea. But,” I said, a split second before he did, causing his wide mouth to curve in a smile as his eyes twitched open to meet mine.



“But will you be there with me when I tell him?” I didn’t know why I said that, but I meant it. And it suddenly became very important to me that Anyan said yes.



“Of course,” the barghest answered without hesitation. Then he shut his eyes again and went to sleep, for the rest of the flight.



Just an hour later, we were on the ground and ready to leave.



“Almost home,” Anyan said as he handed me his spare helmet. “Glad?”



“Yeah,” I said, watching him straddle his bike with appreciative eyes. We were still being careful with each other; unsure of exactly how to proceed. But we were getting… somewhere. We were turning the slightest moment of proximity into an opportunity for a hesitant touch: Getting off the plane, Anyan’s hand had found my hip, solicitously. I’d let my hand rest on his when he’d passed me my duffel.



I didn’t know what the fuck was going to happen between the two of us, but just then—knowing I was about to clamber on the back of his motorcycle so that we could drive home, together—it felt like the possibilities were endless.



Grinning goofily, but not caring, I let him help me up behind him. Then we were off, roaring down the dark highway toward Rockabill. It was too loud to chat, but we were both enjoying the quiet and the ride too much to care.



Less than an hour later, we glided onto the exit that would shortly lead to the center of our town. Soon enough we were on Main Street, nearing the central square.



With greedy eyes I feasted on the sight of my home, so safe and quiet. Everything was just as I’d left it; just as it had always been. Read It and Weep was still standing; as was the Trough, and the hardware store, and our little bakery. Despite everything being closed up for the night, the empty town center didn’t appear desolate. It just seemed asleep, ready to wake up for a new day tomorrow.



“Home sweet home,” I murmured. One of Anyan’s hands fell on top of my own, clasped together over his waist. He stroked my knuckles gently, and I felt a strong desire to let my hands drift downward, to where his body met the bike…



But before I could go ahead and be bold, the barghest swore and braked hard, swerving into a skidding stop that had us both looking to our right.



There, lit up underneath one of our lovely antique streetlamps as if she were on a stage, stood Blondie.



She was naked again, her entirely tattooed, beringed body glowing with power. She started to move then, and after a startled second I realized she was doing a soft-shoe tap dance on the sidewalk. Every few seconds she’d do a toe tap, one leg bent behind her, arms extended behind her in a “ta-da!” pose. Only, instead of saying “ta-da!” she’d do a bit of magic. Pulling on that strong, fully elemental power that felt both familiar and yet somehow foreign, she’d shoot off mage balls that exploded like fireworks above her head; or she’d make everything go black and surround us with her psychedelic vines.