Storm Surge

by Melissa Gunn

“That doesn’t look good. Just a minute.” There were some clunks as Karim found the fuse box, and tried to open it. Freya grabbed a butter knife from a kitchen drawer - miraculously still closed - and retreated to the hall.

  “Here. It’s usually painted shut in decrepit old houses like this.” She handed over the knife.

  Karim wiggled the knife under the edge of the box.

  “Yeah, that’s done it. You know a lot about decrepit houses, then?”

  Freya gave a half laugh, then stopped, feeling guilty for laughing when she didn’t know if her sister was even alive.

  “Do I ever. I think every house I’ve ever lived in - and there have been a few - has had several decades of misuse before we arrived in it. And you would not believe how many storm surges have hit houses I’ve lived in.” Tears pricked her eyes as a wave of self-pity overcame her. “Honestly, I don’t know why it always happens to us. You’d think my family would have moved away from the sea before now. It’s not like it’s an easy place to live. But no, every time we move, we’re always close to the sea. It’s like a fatal attraction.” She stopped talking abruptly, unable to continue. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to regain control of her voice.

  “Anyway. Maybe after today, that won’t happen anymore. Let’s see if the upstairs is any better than down here. One house we lived in, the middle level was the best - the roof leaked, the basement flooded, but the middle was quite posh. If we’re lucky, this house will be a bit like that. Except without the basement. Are you coming?”

  “Sure. I’ll just make sure every thing’s off down here.”

  Freya took the stairs to her room two at a time, forgetting her weariness and despair. Safe! The water had not touched the upstairs portion of the house. Her strengthened tarpaulin still covered the roof, her bed was still a haven. Relief flooded her. This house was still home, even if it was now in even worse repair than before. After what had happened to Tammy, she needed something to stay permanent.

  Karim appeared in the doorway as she sank onto her bed.

  “Aisha got back to me,” he said. “She’ll come over when she can. It might take her a while though. Those waves went through town too, and there’s more damage closer to the beach. I wondered... how you want to pass the time?” Freya looked up at him. His eyes were dilated as he watched her.

  Catlike, she thought. She should probably start cleaning up the house, see what could be salvaged from the kitchen and lounge, wash the saltwater off the plants in the garden. But right now, more than anything, she wanted some semi-human companionship. She held out her hand to Karim.

  “Come over here and let’s find out.”

  Karim took her hand and let himself be drawn down beside her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  TAMMY'S SURPRISE

  Freya stood at the bottom of the stairway down the cliffs. The looming rock faces made her feel shorter than she was. The wind whipping her light hair painfully against her face was also making her nose run. She sniffed, then wished she hadn’t, as she was assaulted by the stench of rotting seaweed.

  Fenris’s teeth, I wish I had packed a handkerchief to cover my nose with. Now I know how Bilbo Baggins felt. Who knew handkerchiefs were so vital?

  She surveyed the rocky beach before her, searching for any sign of her sister, as she had done every day of the past winter.

  Freya knew that there wasn’t much chance that her sister would turn up here again, but she felt that she had to try. She shifted uncomfortably on her rocky perch. She was going to have to get closer to the sea if she wanted to survey the whole beach. Gritting her teeth, she leaped from one slab of rock to another, wishing the grey stone wasn’t quite so slippery and the sea not so close. She didn’t want to risk being taken herself, no matter how unlikely that was. One foot skidded on landing, and she lurched, trying to regain her balance. A step sideways, an unbalanced rock teetered, and she fell, her muscles tensing painfully in anticipation of the impact. Unexpectedly, she landed on gritty sand, coarse and brown under her outstretched fingers, but infinitely preferable to landing on rock.

  “Oof. I need chocolate.”

  Lucky I have some, these days.

  Freya turned around so she was sitting on the damp sand, fumbled in her pocket and found a somewhat battered square wrapped in gold foil. She brushed a few crumbs of sand off the precious package and peeled the foil off, the thin metal delightfully smooth to her fingers after the sandy landing. Biting off an edge of the chocolate, Freya savoured the morsel as it melted on her tongue. Cocoa overriding a hint of caramel, vanilla, a touch of salt that might have come from the nearby sea or from the chocolate itself.

  This is why I don’t want to survive off foraged food all the time. Chocolate is much better than salad in a crisis.

  Her chocolate-aided recovery was interrupted by the unwelcome splash of waves on her trouser-covered legs. She scrambled to her feet.

  “Alright, I’m looking. No need to get watery with me.” Freya no longer felt silly addressing the waves. She knew there was a goddess there – and maybe her sister, too. Pocketing the remaining chocolate, she resumed her slithery progress towards the far end of the beach, where a long-fallen piece of cliff blocked her view.

  Rounding the obstacle at last, Freya paused in shock. She had not found her sister this time. But she had found... puppies? A thin whimpering reached her ears. Or was that far-off gulls? It was hard to tell with the constant rumbling of the sea telling its tale of unseen tumbling rocks.

  Freya bent over the pile of puppies. Surely it was too cold here on the beach for such young animals. Her hair immediately fell forward into her face, obscuring her view. She pushed it back impatiently, and it fell forward again. Freya gave an irritated huff, and shoved it behind her ears once more.

  Maybe I should just cut my hair off, if it’s going to be so annoying. Except then I’d look more like Tammy. I guess I’ll leave it.

  She transferred her attention to the small beings in front of her.

  “What are you little ones doing here? It’s a lonely place for puppies. And where’s your Mum?”

  She looked around. No sign of a dog anywhere. Or... she looked more closely at the small heap of wriggling, whining bodies. They stilled and looked back at her with shining dark eyes. Their large ears twitched towards her. Not puppies.

  “Are you fox kits? I’m sure you don’t belong on a beach, whatever you are.”

  Fox kits might also mean she was in danger – were they true foxes, or were-foxes? She had no way of telling unless an adult turned up. On cue, feet crunched on the sandy strip of the main beach. Freya backed away until she tripped on the ubiquitous rocks.

  Ow.

  She shuffled behind a larger than average rock.

  I hope the seaweed smell overwhelms the smell of me.

  The rock didn’t provide much camouflage, but some cover was probably better than none. She peered around the edge of the rock. The figure who appeared was somehow familiar, a big man with red-blond hair. A were-fox from the local clan. She tried not to breath, though she thought she’d probably been spotted - or smelt. All the same, Freya felt insulted when the blond man totally ignored her, striding directly to the kits. He crouched over them as Freya had done, sniffed loudly two or three times, and began gathering the kits up into his arms.

  Freya decided that being ignored was worse than any alternative right now – after all, this was just one were. And his hands were too full of baby fox for him to attack her, if he didn’t abide by their uneasy truce. She stood up and picked her way over to him.

  “Excuse me? Are those yours?” she asked.

  The man looked at her at last, and Freya was startled by the grief evident on his face. He was relatively young, but deep lines marred what had probably been a handsome face. Freya suddenly remembered where she had seen him before: supporting Tammy before the sea-goddess took her. This is Tammy’s were-fox boyfriend, the one she abandoned us for.

  “You must be her sister,” he
said.

  “If you mean Tammy, then yes.”

  “I smelt you earlier.”

  Way to make a girl feel special. I am so going to change deodorants.

  “Well, good for your nose then. I asked if the kits were yours.”

  The big man nodded.

  “More mine than anyone’s. But can’t you smell your sister on them?”

  Freya stared.

  “No. Around here, I smell the sea. And a bit of fox, I guess.”

  The man shook his head.

  “They smell of her. She must have been here, and I missed her.” He bit off his words, mouth turned down, his anguish apparent. Freya found herself thawing in the face of such strong emotion. He seemed to be genuinely sorry about Tammy’s loss.

  “You and me both. Did she leave these kits then?”

  “She must have done. They smell of her,” he repeated. “I will raise them in her memory.” The blond man clutched the kits closer to him.

  “But what about Tammy? If she was here, where is she now?” Freya looked around wildly, as though her sister would appear magically.

  “I can only guess she has gone back to Nehalennia,” he sighed.

  “That b- that goddess has seriously mucked up our lives,” said Freya.

  “On that, we are agreed,” he said.

  Freya looked around more closely. No sign of a goddess here. But a short line of footprints led away towards the sea. Freya followed the prints, and found a patch of wet sand inscribed with words and pictures.

  “There’s a message here,” she called. “Something about shared care, I’m guessing from the pictures of foxes and humans. And... I think it’s from Tammy. You should see this.”

  Juggling kits, the blond man looked at her as though she were a person, at last. Clutching the kits to him with difficulty - they squirmed - he hastened over to her. Together, they puzzled over the message.

  I wish Tammy was better at drawing. Though I guess it’s hard to draw messages in the sand.

  A series of line drawings were scrawled across the sand. There was a foxy-looking thing, then an arrow, followed by a similar thing but with lines on its neck. Two stick figures towered over the foxy thing. Only one of them had a tail.

  “Looks like we’d better work together,” Freya said.

  “Yes. Will you help me carry them home?” asked the blond man.

  “Of course.” Freya picked her way over the rocks and held out her hands. When she grasped one kit, it tried to nip her.

  Why couldn’t Tammy have left kittens?

  “Does this mean I’m an aunt to foxes?”

  “Were-foxes. They only change when they’re older,” he said.

  I don’t remember that in Mum’s teaching. All that time spent on the non-mundane, and there’s still big holes in what I know. It must be so much easier to be a mundane, pure human. Maybe when I’m officially an adult I can go away somewhere and pretend to be one. That would be peaceful.

  Once all the kits were secure, Freya and the blond were-fox set off along the beach towards the stairs. Behind them, a larger than average wave curled into the small bay, caressing the pocket in the rocks where the kits had been and washing away the drawings in the sand.

  EPILOGUE

  RAIN WAS HAMMERING on the roof. The weather forecast predicted another large spring storm would hit that night. Right now though, it was warm and dry inside. Freya was glad this house was up the hill and away from the edge of the sea. She looked up when Aisha knocked on the open door to her room.

  “Come in.”

  Aisha sauntered into the room like one of her cats.

  “Your Mum said to come up here. Oh, they’re so cute,” she said, looking at the small furry pile on Freya’s bed, “even if they are going to grow up into foxes. I mean, were-foxes.”

  Freya had to agree. When the sea-goddess had talked of a litter, she thought Nehalennia had been making a snide joke. But here she was, playing with her sister’s fur-babies. Freya hoped that meant that Tammy was alive and well somewhere out there. Maybe she’d get her longed-for stability out in the ocean.

  “They might not be were-foxes, exactly,” she felt compelled to inform Aisha. “There was a note of sorts, from Tammy. Or possibly from Nehalennia. More of a picture in the sand. I think... I think they might be visiting their mother when they’re older. Once their gills have grown in.”

  Aisha looked at Freya with an expression somewhere between curiosity and horror.

  “Gills? Seriously?” She ruffled the kit’s neck fur, where no sign of gills was in evidence. “Umm. How would that work? Surely they’re mammals.”

  Freya shrugged.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to interpret a pictogram left in the sand by an ancient sea-goddess I’ve only met once. Or even one left by my sister, she never was much of an artist. They might not get gills. Maybe they’ll just shapeshift like regular weres, but into something different.” Freya flopped back on her bed, making the small furry bodies protest as they had to find her patting hands again.

  “School’s going to feel pretty tame after the last few weeks. But I wish Tammy had stayed away from the were-foxes. No matter how much she wanted a home and babies, surely it wasn’t worth... well, everything.”

  Aisha came and sat down on the floor. She lifted one of the kits down from the bed, and cuddled it for a moment.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “It’s hard to see how it could be worth everything.” She looked up at Freya.

  “You know,” she said, “if ever I get all gooey and romantic over someone, and declare I’m going to start - oh, I don’t know, a new breed of locust-flinging pond-cats - please remind me what a bad idea it is.”

  Freya tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a sob.

  “Sorry,” Aisha apologised. “Bad joke. But do tell me;” she hesitated a moment. “Who’s going to look after them?”.

  “These little guys?” Freya answered in a careful voice. “Mum’s going to take them when she’s not working. Overnight. Lisichka and her son, what's-his-name. Todd. They’re taking them during the day. Apparently, stockbrokers like them can work with small furry bodies around their feet all day.” She looked at the pile of kits scrabbling over each other. “I always knew Tammy wanted children, but this lot seems a bit many all at once. I wonder if that’s what she expected?”

  “And when do they turn - well, into whatever species they’re going to be?” Aisha asked, curiously.

  Freya shrugged.

  “Nobody seems to know. Apparently, it was an experiment of sorts. They’re trying to breed selkie foxes, or something like that. Because Tammy had- has- such a strong water-connection, they thought it might work out. Especially since she’s the descendant of a fertility goddess, too. Not that that worked out well for anyone,” Freya’s voice wobbled, and she stopped, pressing her lips together, struggling for control of her vocal cords. She hated the way her emotions threatened to overwhelm her at the moment. Aisha rescued the moment.

  “Fertility, rubbish. Bastet was a fertility goddess as well, you know. Honestly, they’re a dime a dozen. Goes with the territory I suppose - I mean, it’s a pretty big evolutionary advantage, isn’t it, to have lots of kids? Sometimes I think our ancestors had nothing else on their minds when they thought of goddesses.”

  Freya laughed aloud, grateful for the distraction.

  “You have been paying more attention in biology, haven’t you?”

  Aisha looked momentarily embarrassed.

  “Well, that new biology teacher’s pretty cute. It helps me focus,” she mumbled.

  “Is that gooey and romantic?” teased Freya.

  “No! That’s just... Well, you know. Helpful,” retorted Aisha, before resuming her former strident tone. “If you ask me, I think your sister just fell in love, and the rest was an excuse her lover’s family made so they could accept it.” Aisha was obviously frustrated. She’d been furious about being grounded, and when it turned out that as a result, she hadn’t been
on hand to help Freya save her sister - and that Aisha’s brother had been on hand and hadn’t got Aisha to come help somehow - she was beyond upset.

  Aisha put the kit down with its littermates on the bed, and looked curiously at Freya.

  “Do you mind? Them being alive, I mean?”

  Freya shook her head, slowly.

  “It would have been such a waste of life if no-one had survived,” she said. “But I can’t wait to finish school and get away from here. Even if Tammy is out there, I am so over the seaside.” She looked at Aisha. “I’ll miss you, though, if you don’t go to uni, too.”

  Aisha laughed uncertainly.

  “Yeah, well. I don’t know what I’ll do, yet.”

  “I guess Karim’s off next week, then?” she asked Aisha in what she hoped was a casual tone of voice. Aisha’s knowing look told her she’d failed at casual, but she answered anyway.

  “Yes, he’s managed to find a flat not far from the uni. But maybe you knew that already. He asked me to tell you he’d come by later. Nena’s got him making a shedload of potions before he leaves. Apparently, he improved his potion-making skills while he was away, and Nena’s just twigged that she won’t have him at her beck and call while he’s off studying. She wants to grow her online business to pass on to Mum, and Karim’s much faster than he used to be. You should have heard her crowing - it was all ‘ooh, Karim’s grown up at last, he’s so useful now, what do you mean he’s going away again?’. It was pretty funny. Especially Karim’s expression when Nena started listing all the potions she wants made before he goes. The house stinks awfully.”

  “Do you think he’ll actually get away today then?”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean, who wants to spend all day doing your Grandma’s bidding? Seriously though. I want to know. Have you got a thing for my brother?”

  “Er... we’re just trying things out at the moment, if you know what I mean.”

  “Good, do spare me the details. Only - I thought you should know that he’s not really a settling down type. In case that’s important to you. Oh, this is hard! Look, what I mean is, I want you to stay my friend even if you and Karim don’t work out. OK?”