by Bella Jacobs
“I don’t think I could reach it anyway,” I assure her. “It’s deep down there.”
“But it’s connected, right?” Mina asks.
“I think so…” I lean over, but I can’t see far enough beneath the waves to make out exactly where it might be tethered. Maybe it’s tied to the dropped anchor or something?
Do I have an anchor? I must since I don’t appear to be moving.
I turn, glancing over my shoulder to look for signs of an anchor, only to find a staircase that I hadn’t noticed before at the far end of the vessel. There are stairs leading down into the depths of my floating mental home. The realization is both exciting and scary—I’m not sure what lives down there, out of the sun, far beneath the waves, but my gut tells me it’s something I’m not ready for just yet.
“I think you’re ready to come out, aren’t you, doll?” Mina asks, again sensing where I am mentally before I say the words aloud.
“Yes, please,” I say, panic spiking as I realize how real this world has become—so real I’m not sure how to get myself out of it. As fear dumps into my bloodstream, the sky overhead begins to fill with clouds.
I look up, skin prickling as I scan the rapidly graying formations. There’s no sign of a face in the clouds now, but I can feel someone watching me, someone who isn’t thrilled to learn I’ve made it this far, to this ocean at the edge of the world where there are gods and monsters and it’s often hard to tell the difference between one and the other.
“I want to come out, Mina.” My voice trembles as my fingertips dig into the edge of the boat. “Mina? Can you hear me?”
But this time there’s no reply, no sound except the rush of the wind as the storm clouds thicken, the lapping of the waves against the boat, and a larger splash behind me. I spin, heart surging up to lodge in my throat as I watch the tips of two giant tentacles swirl grotesquely through the air before disappearing beneath the surface.
My mind leaps to the obvious conclusions—calculating how large the rest of that creature must be if its tentacles stand seven feet out of the waves, and realizing how easy it will be for it to capsize my boat and devour me in a single bite. But before I can fully succumb to panic, more rippling, churning, squirming sounds come from my left.
And then my right…
And then from behind me…
I’m surrounded, encircled.
Trapped.
I whip my head around, catching glimpses of lichen-covered backs breaching the waves, more tentacles, the ominous dorsal fins of sharks, and finally the single golden eye of some ancient horror that emerges long enough to stare straight through me, it’s soulless gaze assuring me there will be no mercy for puny human creatures on its watch.
I suck in a breath that emerges as a scream, but the splashing is too loud now for me to hear myself cry out over the sounds of the monsters roiling beneath the waves, working themselves into a frenzy of anticipation, preparing to feed.
Sweat breaking out on my upper lip and the back of my neck, I curl into a ball in the floor of the boat and cover my head with my hands. The jostle and bounce of the wood beneath me leaves no doubt that the danger is still real, present, and closing in with every passing second, but it’s easier to think with my gaze fixed on the swirls in the plank in front of me instead of the ocean of horrors.
I stare into the eye of a knot in the wood, doing my best to think clearly.
What was it that Mina said? Fear is my enemy. Fear is trying to take control, but I can’t let that happen. I have to use my head, my heart.
Closing my eyes, I concentrate on taking long, deep breaths, using the visualization Mina suggested. I draw in light and exhale shadow, forcing myself to stay with the meditation, even when something enormous rises beneath me, lifting the boat several feet into the air before abruptly diving, sending my tiny vessel splashing back into the waves.
Seawater rains down on me, and one of the monsters groans so loudly it makes the wood vibrate beneath my cheek. It’s a primal call for food, for blood, and for a second it threatens to shatter my focus. But I fist my hands tight, fingernails digging into my palms. The sting distracts me from the chaos outside long enough to bring balance to the chaos within.
Slowly, breath by breath, the water calms and the sky clears, and Mina’s voice is once again audible, a faint but comforting whisper on the wind.
“Come back to us, Wren. Focus on the beat of your heart and count backward from ten. Ten…nine…eight…”
I mouth the numbers with her.
By “five” the boat is less solid beneath my cheek, by “three” I can no longer smell the sea or feel the breeze, and on “one” I open my eyes to find myself sitting in a chair in Mina’s kitchen, surrounded by four very worried looking pairs of brown eyes. Vera has gone pale beneath her golden skin and Leda has apparently been struck speechless with shock, something I’m guessing is pretty rare for her.
“Are you okay?” Kite’s voice is calm, but his death grip on my hand makes it clear how not-okay the past few minutes have been for him.
They weren’t great for me, either. “I’m not sure, I…” I trail off, glancing from Kite to Mina, who looks even more spooked than her son or daughters. “That wasn’t how that was supposed to go, was it?”
She shakes her head slightly.
“What did I do wrong?” I tighten my grip on Kite’s fingers, needing something to cling to.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, baby.” Mina’s lips press tight as she glances over to where Vera and Leda are still sitting speechless on the other side of the table. “Could you girls give us a moment? I have something I’d like to discuss with Wren and Kite in private.”
“Of course.” Vera nods toward the door on the other side of the kitchen. “Come on, Leda, let’s go check on the kids.”
“Yeah. Kids.” Leda stands, starting to follow her sister across the room, but before she steps out into the cool evening, she pauses to pin me with a hard look. “Don’t let her scare you, kid. You’re stronger than you think. You can handle this shit and any other shit the world throws at you. I can see it. And I don’t say that kind of mushy crap to everyone.”
Before I can thank her, Leda vanishes into the night, the door slamming shut behind her with a sharp thunk that makes me flinch.
“You can trust her,” Kite says with a quirk of his lips. “On that at least. Leda sees a person’s truest self, their core being. It’s her kin gift.”
“But Leda doesn’t know all the facts,” Mina says softly. “Kite, our elders, and I are the only members of the tribe who know what you truly are, dear one. Leda can see your truth, but she can’t see what you’re facing. And not just here, but in your spirit realm, as well.”
“Was that where I was?”
Mina nods. “The spirit realm can be a dangerous place, but for most of us the only monsters we face in that inner world are of our own creation. Which means we inherently have the power to destroy them. The spirit realm is where we go to fight the battles that decide if our truest self will shine forth, or if our truth will remain locked in the dark until it becomes a ravenous thing that eventually devours us—spirit, bones, and all.”
I scoot closer to Kite. “So those monsters, the giant sea creatures and the sharks in the water—those were my personal demons or something?”
“No,” Mina says, her voice flat. “You’re not alone in your interior, baby girl. Another colonized that world long before you arrived. I felt him arrive not long after you slipped through the veil into your spirit realm. If I’d known, I would never have sent you there. That plane isn’t safe for you, at least not yet.”
“You’re saying Atlas—”
Mina cuts Kite off with a hissing sound. “Don’t say his name in this house. That monster doesn’t deserve a name. He’s a virus, a disease infecting this world, not a being worthy of being invoked.”
Kite sighs. “All right, Ma, I’m sorry. But is that what you meant? That he’s somehow…inside Wren? In her
head?”
“His spirit world and hers overlap,” Mina explains, laying one hand on top of the other on the table to illustrate her point. “Or maybe they were always one.” She interlaces her fingers, mingling the two “worlds” she’s created. “All the writings on the Fata Morgana’s powers were destroyed in antiquity, but maybe that’s why the Fata Morgana can take so many forms. Because they share a spirit world far older and more developed than that of shifters who have only one animal kin.” Mina purses her lips. “Not that there’s been much sharing on that plane in recent millennia, of course. That power-hungry monster has made sure of that.”
“But it was a huge place. Why won’t he share it?” But I realize it’s a dumb question the second it’s out of my mouth. I roll my eyes, answering myself before Mina has a chance, “Because he’s a crazy, evil megalomaniac, and they don’t like to share.”
Mina’s lips curve in a grim smile. “No, they don’t.”
I drop my chin to my chest but lift it almost immediately as another thought races through my head. “Is this why I saw him in my dream? Can he reach me while I’m sleeping, too?”
“He’ll be able to reach you any time you get close to your spirit world,” Mina confirms. “Dreams are right there on the border of this world and that, close enough for him to get a call through, but not close enough to reach out and truly touch someone. If that makes sense?”
I exhale sharply as I nod. “So I’m safe in my dreams.”
“You are,” Mina confirms.
I nibble my bottom lip. “But I can’t learn to control my powers without going back to the boat, to the place I saw today in the spirit world. Right?”
Mina’s brow furrows. “You can, but it will be like making your way through a maze in a blindfold or buttoning your coat with your mittens on—possible, but frustrating. Slow.”
The hope I recaptured this afternoon falters. “So I’m going to have to kick him out of my spirit world and beat him in real life, too?”
The thought of learning to fight and facing down an army assembled by a madman was scary enough, but at least I have a basic understanding of how a person learns to fight. But how in the world do I go about growing my army of psychic sea monsters?
“But you won’t be alone in this world.” Kite wraps his arm around my waist. “I’ll be here, and so will Dust and Creedence. That’s what we’re here for, to give you the strength you need to beat this piece of shit.”
“The bonds you form with your mates will give you strength in the spirit world as well,” Mina says, affection warm in her eyes as her gaze shifts to her son. “And not to mama-bear brag, but my son is a pretty incredible man to have on your side.”
“I know.” I cast a glance up at Kite, grateful for his strong, solid self next to me as the scope of the challenge I’m facing becomes more terrifyingly clear.
I never imagined any of this would be easy, but the knowledge that I’m so intimately connected to Atlas that he can reach me when we’re thousands of miles apart is sobering. Sickening. It makes me feel like I’m diseased, infected with a darkness I have no idea how to begin to purge.
“And we’ll work together, too.” Mina pats my knee. “I’ll teach you some tricks to keep your psychic shields strong so he’ll have a harder time reaching you while you’re asleep. If you’re going to be training hard every day, you’ll need your rest at night.”
“Whiskey helps, too,” Kite says. “A shot right now sounds pretty good, in fact.”
Mina shoots him a mock-stern look. “No whiskey before dinner. You give this girl whiskey on a mostly empty stomach and she’ll be passed out before she can see what a terrible dancer you are.”
“I am not a terrible dancer,” Kite says, laughing. “And if I am, it’s your fault for sending me to dance class in dresses for the first five years. How was I supposed to remember to learn the dances for boys when I was wearing pink every day?”
Mina’s expression crinkles with delight as she reaches out to pinch Kite’s cheek. “But you were so cute in pink!”
Kite growls, but he’s clearly not upset, and the playful teasing does its job, for the time being.
We chat a little longer—Mina explains which dances the tribe will be performing after dinner, before the regular dancing begins, and Kite advises me on where to sit to get the best view of the show. By the time we push our chairs back, preparing to grab bags and brush teeth before we leave for the party, I’m back on steadier ground.
I’ve managed to banish the majority of my heebie-jeebies to the back of my mind, in fact, when Kite puts a gentle hand on my arm as I’m leaving the room and asks, “Do you want me to get you another shirt? I can run grab something from Selkie’s room upstairs.”
I cock my head, but before I can ask why I should change, Kite motions to my chest. I glance down, blinking dumbly as my brain struggles to make sense of the large blotches of water dampening the front of my shirt, turning the white fabric nearly transparent.
For a moment I’m too embarrassed by the realization that I sat and chatted to Kite’s mother with my borrowed lace bra on clear view to think of anything else. But then the real take-home of this development hits hard enough to make my entire body tremble as I lift a shaking hand to touch the largest damp spot.
When I lift my fingers to my nose, I smell—“The ocean…” I glance up at Kite, eyes going wide. “The monsters splashed me while I was hiding at the bottom of the boat. I-I brought it back.”
He nods darkly, holding my gaze as unspoken knowledge flows freely, frighteningly between us.
If I can bring back the ocean, then anything that happens on my spirit plane affects my body here, in the corporeal world. Which means, if I’d fallen overboard and drowned or been eaten by sea monsters in my spirit plane…
“If Atlas can kill me there,” I whisper, “then he won’t have to worry about meeting me on a battlefield.”
“You won’t go back there again, not until you’re ready.” Kite draws me into his arms, lending me his strength. “I won’t let him hurt you, Wren. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Then he kisses me, a sizzling, searing, bone-melting kiss that finishes the job the discovery of my damp T-shirt started. My knees go weak, and I sag against Kite, but he’s there to catch me, scooping me into his arms and guiding my legs around his hips as he carries me down the hall to the guest room, his lips never leaving mine.
We kiss harder, deeper, until my blood is rushing hot and my bones start to feel solid again. The passion between us melts me, but the gentleness in his touch, the emotion I can feel rolling from him in waves every time his skin brushes mine, makes me strong.
It’s the same way a hug from my sister when I was little and suffering from a relapse always made me feel better. She couldn’t take all the pain away, of course, but I could feel her love, and love has mystical, medicinal properties.
As Kite sets me down outside my door and promises, “To be continued, beautiful,” my heart fills with hope once more, in spite of all the logical reasons I should be curled up in a ball rocking in a corner.
Because he loves me, this brave man ready to stand by my side no matter what, and I love him. And I’m ready to show him how much.
Maybe soon.
Maybe…tonight.
Chapter 28
Creedence
They say an elephant never forgets, but cats hold grudges like no other creature on God’s green earth—don’t let our laid-back exteriors fool you.
I never met a grudge I couldn’t carry strapped to my back until the end of time, and the rest of my family is the same way. We’ll laugh off an insult and shrug away betrayal, giving every impression of forgiving, forgetting, and moving on.
But secretly we’re waiting.
Watching.
Planning and hoping and looking for that perfect opportunity to pounce and rip your throat out. And when you ask why, we’ll remind you of the exact date, the exact hour, the precise minute when you set the wheels of k
arma in motion and revenge became a foregone conclusion.
At least in our feline minds.
So while the rest of my team is enjoying the feast—smoked salmon and sea salt roasted potatoes with fresh spring greens and more berries and cream for dessert than even these hearty eaters can devour, I’ve got my eye on Luke. I’m sure I appear to be relaxed, laughing at the kids running wild under the high roof of the main lodge, teasing Wren about how pretty she looks in her new duds, and appreciating the decorations through lazy eyes, but I’m hyperalert.
I haven’t forgotten that Luke was the reason we had to leave our last safe house, and though I don’t blame him for neglecting to inform us of the tracking device on his ankle—he was delivered to us against his will, after all—I’m curious to see what he’ll do now that he has the chance to slip away from our happy crew for the first time since our flight from the authorities. He’s ankle-bracelet free and could make a run for freedom—fuck saving the world—and I can’t say I would blame him for it. Or he could sneak off to call the wolves who delivered him to our door and apprise them of our location, in which case I would be forced to do things to Luke that I would rather not do.
If the wolves are deliberately trying to sabotage our mission, and if Luke is in on it, then that shit has to be sussed out and shut down. Fast. There are enough variables working against us without having a traitor rotting us from the inside.
Activating my kin gift to access visions of the various futures co-existing in any given moment is brutally exhausting, and something I’m only able to do once or twice in a week. But the last time I checked, there was still some unpleasant mystery surrounding Luke in all variants of the possible soon-to-be. I can’t tell if he’s friend or foe, only that he has big secrets he’s determined to hide at any cost, even if it means betraying the promises he’s made to Wren.