Owl

by M. Raiya

  Were those good reasons to want to become leader? They seemed a bit—self-centered. I swallowed hard. Like no one else alive, I knew what it felt like to be compelled, to have an elan forced into me, whether it had been real or not. I would never, never do that to anyone. No matter what. It was wrong. There were other ways to maintain the safety of the clan without terrorizing everyone into obedience. I would never be like the rulers of the past. Nor would I submit to one. I would exile myself before kneeling ever again.

  Lorna approached me, her walk slow and shuffling. This was costing her. I felt compassion, but I made myself stand still and looked at the feather as it approached. It passed my father without moving. It passed my mother without moving.

  It passed me without moving.

  Oh shit.

  Lorna hesitated, as startled as the rest of us. A murmur went through the circle. She raised her eyes to me despite herself, and I didn’t know what to do. I felt a sick dread start to form. What would happen if we were leaderless? As much as I dreaded the thought of another leader, I dreaded the thought of no leader just as much.

  Then Lorna pulled herself together and started to move on. There was still one other.

  Vin.

  Oh God.

  A very faint shiver went through the feather, a mere hint of movement that didn’t come from the wind or Lorna’s hand.

  Vin. Oh. My mind raced, trying to come to terms with my boyfriend becoming my leader. I went completely blank.

  Lorna took a cautious step and brought the feather squarely before Vin. His lips parted, his eyes widened, and I felt fear radiating from him. He didn’t want this. I forced my brain to start working. The first thing I thought was that Vin would never force an elan into me. Nor could I see him compelling me, or anyone else. He’d be a kind, thoughtful leader. He’d look to me for advice, at least at first. I could help him with my magic. It would work. We could do this. It would be strange, but possible.

  But the feather didn’t move again. In front of Vin, it was as completely still as it had been in front of me.

  My world rocked again. Lorna had completed the circle. No leader had been chosen. This could turn into chaos, and our clan might well break apart. They might turn on me for ending my grandfather’s leadership, harsh though it had been. If the clan fell apart and shifters were without guidance, the world might learn our secret. I couldn’t even imagine that.

  Lorna, however, suddenly smiled and stepped back toward me. This time she stopped right between Vin and me, where the feather had moved before. Again, the feather rippled.

  A strange feeling started to grow inside me as I sensed what Lorna had realized. She nodded toward our hands.

  Vin and I laced our fingers together and raised our hands.

  The feather twisted in Lorna’s fingers and pointed to our hands with a smooth, controlled gesture, and with a profound sigh, Lorna handed it to us.

  “We have new leaders,” she said. “Gabriel Lane and—what is your name?”

  “Vin—Vincent Thatcher,” Vin said, sounding completely stunned.

  Both of us.

  I looked at him, and he looked at me, and everything suddenly felt right.

  Then my mother broke the circle and turned to me. At last I let myself look at her. She had lost weight, and there were circles under her eyes, the luster had gone from her golden hair, and I saw fear in her face. Fear that I would blame her, hate her. I was already shaking my head as I let go of Vin’s hand, letting go of the feather at the same time. “It wasn’t your fault,” I said.

  At the same time, she said, “I tried, Gabriel, I fought him every moment of every day, but I couldn’t break free….”

  I put my arms around her, stunned at how small she was when I remembered her being so much bigger. It wasn’t just because I was taller. I should have stood up to my grandfather sooner. I’d never thought about how the daily cost of my banishment had to have been affecting her.

  “I should have come home,” I said. And yet, I knew I hadn’t had the strength to face him before I’d met Vin.

  “He used you both,” Lorna said quietly. “And now it’s over.”

  My mother hugged me. “I’m so proud,” she breathed into my ear. “Oh, Gabriel, I’m so proud of you.”

  I felt like my heart was going to explode, it was so full of love. And then my father touched my shoulder. My wonderful, quiet, stalwart father. He had changed too, shrunken down by cares, and his shoulders were bowed. But his hands were still big and strong as they closed around my mother and me and pulled us both into an embrace.

  “Gabriel,” he said. That was all he had ever said to me, just my name, but he had different tones for what he was trying to communicate. This time, the word was full of pride, suffused with joy.

  I clung to them both, and for the first time in three years, truly let my guard down and wept until the past let go of me and the future became real at last.

  Chapter Seventeen

  TWO WEEKS later I tacked across Moonview Lake, watching the sunset. It was a beautiful one, all reds and oranges lighting up the sky and reflecting in the water below so that it was easy to imagine I was sailing through the sky. The breeze was brisk from the south. I’d been out all day testing a boat for my father, but now I was in Sea Foam, where I could relax and let my mind be filled with the sun and wind and waves, my body merging with the wheel beneath my hands.

  I missed Vin badly, and it was still a few weeks before he could join me. I’d had to go home with my family to start getting the clan settled after the huge upset, and Vin’s left ankle had been so badly sprained that if he didn’t keep it up and ice it, he’d injure it further and need surgery and probably have problems with it the rest of his life. So, he had to stay on the couch in Vermont and see his orthopedist regularly. His recuperation was only brightened by the fact that Mr. Allard’s music group began to rehearse at his house. He’d bowed out of the summer tour because as soon as he was ambulatory again, he was coming to Moonview to begin learning all he’d need to know about owls and the clan he was now coleader of. But if things had calmed down by fall, he’d accompany the musicians on their next tour and be in on the CD recording.

  Obviously, college wasn’t happening right away, for either of us. And under the circumstances, to our intense relief, both sets of parents were all right with it.

  I pulled out my new phone. Vin and I texted almost constantly, but he’d been silent for a few hours, and I was starting to get worried. He’d told me he was going to be practicing all afternoon, but usually he sent me a couple quick hearts during breaks at least.

  The wind dropped with the sun. I flicked on my lights—green on the starboard, red on the port, white at the stern. Then I put the wheel hard to port and moved to the starboard winch to loosen the jib sheet. As soon as we passed through the eye of the wind, I let the sail out and swiftly took it up on the port winch. When it was set, I slipped back behind the wheel, now heading toward my mooring in the bay where my parents’ business was. I’d have to start furling the sails in a few minutes. Hopefully I could pick up the mooring without having to turn on the engine. I always hated to disturb the evening, even though my engine was relatively quiet. Compared to Anton’s anyway. But I would never think ill of him or of his black boat again.

  Though it was killing me that he’d dropped in on Vin a few times.

  Sea Foam’s wooden hull slipped through the water as though she were made of glass, silent as my wings. Only faint splashing came from the bow and a gentle hiss of water moving away from the stern. I had lost all taste for strong wind after the Turtle, and this gentle glide soothed me, soothed my lonely mind, soothed my body that still ached from being battered against the rocks. I had lots of new scars, including a long, thin one on the left side of my neck that would be there the rest of my life. In time it would fade. When I caught myself staring in a mirror, I made myself look at my topaz earrings instead. Or Vin’s class ring on my finger.

  My boat glided throug
h the twilight almost as lightly as the blue kayak had skimmed the surface of the lake. Vin didn’t have a new one yet. I wanted to buy us matching ones as soon as his ankle was better.

  The shore approached. The small village where I lived had just a handful of houses and the long, tall building that was my father’s workshop. A floating wooden dock protruded into the calm water in front of it. A dozen boats bobbed at their moorings nearby. My buoy was over on the other side of the small bay, near where a shale bank came down to the water, making my spot one of the more private ones, and easier access for an owl to slip quietly from the trees overhanging the bank, even though all the boats belonged to friends. Most of them were shifters too.

  An owl swept out from the dusky shore on soft wings. I watched Andrew fly, admiring his courage. His vision was far from perfect yet, but it was improving every day as I slowly mastered the healing powers that I found had come to me from my grandfather. Why he hadn’t healed Andrew, I didn’t know. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to share his talents with his clan. Perhaps he simply hadn’t valued learning how to heal. But more likely, I thought, he had wanted to keep Andrew blind as a way of keeping Maylee bitter and his tool.

  The clan had watched silently at first, but when they saw that my old friendship with Andrew had rekindled easily and that he trusted me implicitly, they had relaxed. Helping Andrew to heal had gone a long way to show that I was not my grandfather. It would take time for them to learn that I would never compel them, but we had plenty of that now.

  Maybe, some day, when I’d become more adept, I would be able to help my father.

  Andrew flew back to his family’s house, and I saw him make a neat landing on the porch. I smiled, then refocused on where I was going.

  A figure stood alone at the end of the dock.

  I froze. Only when the headsail started to luff did I remember I was sailing. My body went into automatic mode, and as though I was outside it, I watched myself swiftly come about into the wind and activated the controls to furl my sails. Then I pressed the button to turn on the engine. It was one thing to go up to a floating buoy under sail, but when I was going to tie up to the dock, I needed the more accurate control of the engine to avoid accidently running into it.

  The figure was waiting.

  My hands flicked on the masthead light to signify that I was now motoring, and I tossed my three white fenders over the port side. My brain had gone numb. All I could think was that I hadn’t even given him directions to Moonview Lake yet. Then I realized that the internet could easily have told him where Moonview Lake was. The town had only one dock, and he’d seen photos of Sea Foam. He was guessing I was on board, since I knew it was too dark to see me clearly.

  Or maybe he just knew.

  I’d docked here a hundred times. Fortunately I could do it without thinking, or else I’d have rammed Sea Foam for sure, my heart was beating so hard. Still, I couldn’t risk looking at him until I brought my boat up alongside the floating dock, killed the engine, and caught hold of the wooden boards. The only sound was the dock creaking in the gentle wash I’d created.

  I looked up.

  Vin looked down.

  He had on khaki pants and a long-sleeved, red V-neck shirt despite the warm evening. They were to hide the rope burns on his wrists and ankles, I knew. I’d thought about wearing turtlenecks, but… no.

  There was a black boot-type cast on his left leg. I remembered the wave that had sent both of us crashing to the back of the Turtle, all our weight pulling on his left ankle, still bound to the iron ring. The cold dark and the lightning, and the terror.

  His mother had longed for the beauty of my world, but I had shown them mostly violence and pain and death. Suddenly all that had happened to Vin because of me crashed down like a rock. Even worse was the thought of all that could have happened if things had gone even worse. Now he’d had time to think it all through, and he’d come here without calling me first because he was going to tell me he couldn’t be part of my world after all. He was going to ask Lorna to release him.

  “Riel? Are you okay? I—wanted to surprise you.”

  Dammit all, words deserted me.

  “Okay, I won’t surprise you again,” he said. “Sorry. The doctor cleared me to ride up, if I stayed in the back seat and kept my leg elevated. My parents have gone ahead to your house—yes, your mother knows we were coming. She thought it would be fun to surprise you too. They’re evil, our two moms, I swear. I’ve only been here a few minutes.” He hesitated, then said, “I couldn’t stand looking at your maple limb and the scratches you made on my headboard any longer.”

  All I could say was “I tried so hard not to scratch it.”

  He laughed. “I’m glad you did. Riel, are you going to invite me on board?”

  “Vin, are you sure? Just because you were chosen, you can choose not to.”

  For a long moment, he looked down at me. I saw then that he was wearing the owl necklace I’d given him. He held out a hand silently.

  I rose quickly and let him hang on to me as he stepped carefully into the cockpit and then sat on the wide, padded seat that ran along the insides. He caught my hand, fingers closing around the ring he’d given me.

  A family of otters suddenly came swimming by, gamboling and playing and giving us curious stares. “Oh,” Vin whispered. “Look!”

  I growled at them, and they quickly turned and swam toward a row of cedar trees we’d all used at one time or another to shift behind.

  “Next-door neighbors,” I said. “Nosey bastards.”

  His jaw dropped. “Is everyone around here…?”

  “Pretty much.” It was suddenly too light on the dock. I could feel the otters watching us. “I have a mooring over there,” I said, nodding toward the far side of the cove.

  “Our folks don’t expect us anytime soon. Your mother said dinner would reheat.”

  “Okay, good,” I said.

  I pushed us away from the dock and sat down behind the wheel, started the engine, and nudged up the throttle. The low, throaty gurgle was familiar and reassuring. I would never doubt Vin again. For a few minutes, we carefully made our way across the still water past the other boats and over to my big, white buoy. As soon as we were close, I put us in neutral and went up to the bow, grabbed the boat hook, and caught hold of the ring on top of the buoy as we went past. It only took a moment to clip on, and then I turned and just looked at Vin. I couldn’t believe he was actually on board Sea Foam.

  Yeah, he looked natural sitting there. And wonderful. And he still loved me.

  “She’s even more beautiful than the photos,” Vin said. “You handle her like you were born to.”

  “I’ll teach you,” I said, slipping astern to drop into the cockpit. I killed the engine and flicked off the lights, then turned on the white anchor light on top of the mast. It looked like one of the stars that were beginning to come out as the twilight lavender sky deepened into luminous darkness. The only other lights that showed, aside from similar stars on other moored boats, were on the dock and from some of the houses. I heard the family of otters talking and laughing in human form as they made their way up the road toward their house. It was so strange to think that my parents and Vin’s parents were probably sitting down to dinner together. It was a good strange.

  I gazed at Vin in my boat, looking up at the stars. One dream had come true. Maybe others would too, and new ones would brighten out of the sky.

  We didn’t need words. I shifted form and flew to his shoulder. He stroked me. I bent my head and nipped his earring. He laughed, swept me into his arms, and cuddled me close under his chin.

  “Someday, I’m going to sit on your shoulder,” he said.

  I hooted softly. I was pretty sure he’d gotten the ability to shift from me as well as magic, though I adamantly refused to teach him how until he was well healed. But there’d been no stopping him from experimenting with magic. Whereas I’d only ever used it as a last resort, Vin had told me he was already making cans of
soda fly across the room to his hand and lights turn on and off by themselves. His parents were resigned and admitted it made caring for him easier until he’d been able to put weight on his foot.

  My talented Vin.

  Beneath us, Sea Foam swung gently at her mooring, her halyards making the soft ringing sounds I loved so much. Finally I shifted again and helped Vin down into the cabin, turning on a dim overheard light. He looked around appreciatively at the galley with its gleaming appliances, the living area with a couch and table, the shelves full of books. Then I led him to the forward cabin and its large, cozy berth, all made up with a soft comforter and squishy pillows.

  He sat down and slipped off his ankle brace, stretching his foot out with a sigh of contentment. I settled next to him, took his foot on my lap, and began to massage the swollen joint carefully. A gentle warmth grew in my palms. My healing talent. In time I knew I would learn to control and focus it. For now, I urged it to ease his pain.

  “It’s okay,” he said quietly. I realized I’d let a tear fall onto his scar.

  I shook my head and took his hands, pushed up his sleeves, and looked at the rough, red lines around his wrists. He’d have them the rest of his life.

  “I’d have worse scars if you hadn’t flown in my window that night,” he said levelly, looking right at me. “Or maybe they wouldn’t have formed scars at all.”

  “Oh, Vin,” I whispered and cradled his hands against my chest.

  He smiled, leaned forward, and kissed me.

  And then we slid down onto my berth, softly, gently. We lost ourselves in each other as the waves rocked us gently down into joy.

  M. RAIYA knew she was a writer since second grade when her teacher kept her in for recess to get extra help because “Somebody had better teach you about semicolons!” She started her first fantasy trilogy in fifth grade. She majored in writing in college, got her master’s degree in English, published some literary fiction, and fortunately emerged from all that with her imagination unscathed.