by Ann Gimpel
Leif bowed until his forehead nearly touched the ground before straightening. “It’s a great honor to meet you, Eiocha. I am a dolphin Shifter, alpha to my pod. My sea name is…” He trilled a series of notes. “The power thief is Amphitrite, and for many a long year, she was a goddess, but she repudiated her rightful role and has embraced evil.”
“We are dolphin Shifters as well,” Lewis said.
Eiocha tossed her head. “You asked how long since I walked the Earth. Many thousands of years. At first, the lines required my presence, but after a time, I grew used to my solitude.”
The vulture laid her head along the horse’s neck. “Bad things have happened in the world, old friend. Very bad things. Earth may be doomed.
“You must tell me.” Eiocha stamped her hooves on the ground.
“A spell went sideways,” the vulture replied, “opening the door to great evil. A courageous group of Shifters fought the wickedness and altered its course, but not enough.”
“We sail toward northern waters.” Juan’s cat stepped in. “A hole between worlds must be closed. Malevolent forces are pouring through. They will strip what’s left of goodness from Earth, rendering it uninhabitable for any save demon spawn.”
Moira couldn’t remain silent any longer. “Will you help us?” she demanded.
“Who was that?” Eiocha shook her head until her mane danced along the length of her neck.
“My human bondmate,” the vulture replied, adding, “The one who showed you how to repair the ley lines.”
“Aye. Her. I haven’t forgotten,” Eiocha muttered. “I do not know how I could help. I have not left this world for so long, I’m not certain I even could.”
“Your ley lines,” Moira persisted. “They circle Earth.”
Juan’s cat stood tall, tail twitching. “You are the Guardian.” It growled low. “You have no choice. Caring for Earth was tasked to you. While you may choose the how and why of that caretaking, nonetheless, it is your job.”
“But I’ve done my job,” she insisted. “Caring for the lines means magic will never die.”
“Oh but it will. Die, that is.” Moira couldn’t seem to keep her mouth shut, but she wasn’t about to stop now. “If we can’t close the gateway to Hell, everything good on Earth will wither and perish.”
“Surely you must be mistaken.” Eiocha tossed her head.
Moira didn’t contradict her. She’d said enough.
“I was happy. So happy you came to see me. At last. After all these long years of being alone.” Eiocha dropped her head low, as if holding it up were too much trouble.
“I was happy to see you too—” the vulture began.
“I think not.” The horse shook herself until the vulture let go and flew in circles.
“How can you say such a thing?” the vulture demanded. “You overstep yourself.”
Moira felt her bondmate’s temper rise and searched for a way to intervene.
“You were here with the human you say is linked to you. Granted, you appeared in her form, but since she exists within you, I assume the opposite holds true as well. Hence, you were here but held silence. No well met, old friend then.” The horse turned until one laterally placed eye skewered the vulture. The eye had developed a red cast.
“We were in a hurry.” Leif stepped closer. “We are part of a larger group. Our companions would have worried needlessly, risked themselves if they thought we were in danger—”
Aura’s cat growled low in its throat; hackles raised the length of its spine. “With all due respect, Goddess, you don’t understand the nature of the Shifter bond since it came into being after you left Earth.”
“Your manner does not match your words.” Eiocha’s tail swished from side to side. “I find all of you unspeakably rude. I once counted two of you as friends, yet you forsook me. Aye, you are here now, but only because you want something. So long as magic showed up when you required it, you never thought of me at all.
“Leave me. Go now while I’m feeling generous.”
The vulture cawed her outrage, wings beating a staccato tempo inches from the horse’s head. “Look to yourself, Eiocha. If no one made the effort to visit, it’s because none of us had any idea where to find you. Friendship runs two ways, and my heart is heavy because today I lost someone I once held dear.”
“If you choose not to aid our cause”—Juan’s cat picked up the banner—“we may fail. If we do, your time tending magic on this borderworld will come to an end along with all of us.”
“You’ll fail on purpose.” The horse squealed its dismay. “To thwart me. Leave before I change my mind.”
“We’re going. Thank you for your time and consideration.” Leif bowed again, and he, Lewis, and Lynda turned and walked through the veils. No longer shimmering, the fabric hung like tired rags.
Moira had a whole lot she wanted to say, starting with reminding Eiocha she’d done her damnedest to hold them in the cavern on their first trip to her domain. Before she had a chance to confront the horse, her bondmate wheeled and flew after the dolphin Shifters.
Juan and Aura ran lightly beneath them.
The vulture landed next to where Moira had left her clothes. She took it as a sign her bondmate was ceding their shared form to a human body. When shifting required almost no effort, it meant the vulture was troubled.
As she dressed, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s right?” the bird shot back. “I know her. I handled this badly.”
“I’m not seeing how.” Moira tried to understand her bondmate’s point.
“Eiocha always needed coddling, reassurance of her spot at the center of everything.”
Moira bent to lace her boots. “But we told her she could play a major role. She grew angry. Accused us of failing on purpose—to make her look bad.”
Back in her human form and dressed, Aura called, “Ready to go?”
“Yes.” Moira hurried to where everyone was bunched in a tight circle. “Before we leave, is there anything we can say or do to fix what just happened?”
“My cat says it’s a lost cause,” Juan snarled through tight lips.
“Not precisely what my vulture believes, but we can dissect this back on Arkady.”
“I have to round up the rest of my pod,” Leif said. “Depending on where we emerge this time, if the rest of you don’t need me, I’ll locate them before I come back aboard.”
“They’re probably hunting for us,” Lynda said.
“My guess too,” Leif agreed, “but I still have to track everyone down. Shouldn’t take long.”
“We want to hear what happened to you.” Moira turned a worried look his way.
“Not sure I totally understand the thing that first lured us, and then would have eaten us, but—”
“It’s part of what doesn’t want us to get to Wrangel Island,” Aura spoke over him. “We need every detail to protect ourselves.”
“Leave. Leave. Leave!” The words echoed off the walls, so loud Moira jammed her hands over her ears. She resisted an urge to shake her fist at the imperious horse goddess. She’d bet her last spell Eiocha was terrified and covering with projection and threats.
The more Moira thought about it, the surer she was that she skirted close to the truth. Eiocha’s words rumbled through her mind. Lovers left me. Children left me. Friends left me until all that was left was the most important task of all. Holding the world’s magic together.
Maybe, after tens or dozens or hundreds of abandonments, the goddess was done putting herself forward. That was why she’d run away, hiding on an obscure borderworld under the guise of it being the most important task of all.
Even if I am right, what good will it do us?
None, she answered herself. Eiocha dismissed us.
“Moira?” Leif’s voice held a question.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Power surged around them, carrying them out of the cavern. The ley lines’ magic was strong, so strong Mo
ira ended up sprawled on Arkady’s wide quarterdeck in the blink of an eye.
What a difference from their last exit from the same borderworld.
She’d tumbled through a torn place in the ether. Neither shimmery nor glistening. When she stared at the hole, it dripped red before it snapped shut as if it had never existed.
Blinking, she wondered if she’d been hallucinating. “Did you see that?” she asked Aura.
The blonde cat shifter nodded solemnly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the portal was sealed with Eiocha’s tears, although I have no idea what that might mean.”
Juan helped Aura to her feet. Moira pushed upright. Leif and the two dolphin shifters weren’t there, but she hadn’t expected them to be.
“I’m off to make peace with Vik,” Juan announced.
“Would you like company?” Aura asked.
Juan wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Thanks for the offer, but this might go better if I’m by myself.”
“Okay. I’ll be in our cabin showering.”
Juan kissed her again and turned, taking one of the outside staircases and trotting upward two steps at a time.
Aura leveled her green gaze on Moira. “We really fucked that up.”
“Not my take at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“If Eiocha is such a prima donna that looking cross-eyed at her is all it takes for her to turn on us, maybe we don’t need her for an ally.”
Her vulture squawked, but Moira couldn’t interpret what it meant.
“Is your bird agreeing or dissing you?” Aura asked.
“In this instance, I don’t know. It did say it should have known better and handled things differently.”
“Mmph. We can pick everything apart later.” Aura’s shoulders slumped. “I’m discouraged, although I’m doing my damnedest to argue myself out of it. Before a couple of days ago, I hadn’t thought about that myth in years.”
“Maybe it’s not the correct prophecy for our circumstances?” Moira furled her brows.
Aura screwed her mouth into a forced smile. “There is that rationalization to consider, but you may be onto something. I’ll see if I can’t find another prophecy that’s a better fit.” She trudged through a nearby side door.
Moira watched her go and charted her own course. What she needed was a heart-to-heart with her bondmate, but whether the vulture would cooperate was a huge unknown.
Magic sparked nearby, filling the air with the fresh scent of the sea as dolphins and whales materialized on deck. Water sluiced down their bodies, pooling around their sleek forms.
She waited until Leif formed in the middle of a shiny, golden sphere that broke apart around him. “All present and accounted for?” she asked.
“Yes.” He smiled, and her heart gave a funny little hitch. “Lynda was correct. They were hunting for us and not willing to give up until they were certain we were safe.”
“I’m glad everyone is okay.” She turned away, warmed by the sea Shifters’ tightknit brotherhood and ashamed how much she craved something similar. When she went inside the ship, no one called after her, but why should they? They had each other.
She walked slowly down the corridor to her cabin and was all the way inside, closeted behind a closed door, before truth crashed over her. If she felt alone, it was her own fucking fault. Much like Eiocha, she’d always kept to herself. Even through the decade in Ushuaia, she’d held herself aloof from the other Shifters. For the first couple of years, even though it was irrational, she’d blamed them because she was stuck in Argentina. Once she’d finally moved past that, it was late in the game to build bridges, so she’d fit in as she could.
Sitting gingerly on the corner of her berth, she dropped her head into her hands. Crying was stupid, but tears came anyway. Maybe when she was done indulging herself, she could do something useful to redeem today’s fiasco.
Something that might convince Eiocha to become their ally.
11
A Time for Truth
Leif watched Moira leave out of the corner of his eye. She seemed upset, but their time in the borderworld had been disconcerting. Enough to trouble anyone. The language of the sea rose and fell around him as his pod celebrated being reunited. The sounds were peaceful and soothing except for where a whale faced off against Lewis.
“You almost got our alpha killed.” Accusation sharpened the whale’s words.
Leif paid attention. How would Lewis handle things? He was slated to take over as alpha if disaster struck. Had the pod made a solid choice for his successor?
Lewis faced the whale squarely. “Aye, and myself along with him. Lynda too. I feel quite the idiot for being taken in by a cunning illusion.” Lewis stood straighter. “You’re right to chastise me, but no matter what you say it won’t be as harsh as I’ve been on myself.”
“Good you see it that way,” the whale grumbled before lumbering inside the ship.
Leif smiled to himself. Lewis would be a good leader if circumstances placed him in that role. Knowing when to accept blame was a gift and a skill, as was acknowledging when you were wrong. His thoughts turned to Eiocha. Talk about a mirror opposite. She cast blame in a wide net, unwilling to view herself as anything other than perfect.
Too bad. She might have become a most excellent ally, but not if they had to mollycoddle her every step of the way. His dolphin had a few choice words about the exchange in the cavern, mostly regarding what they did to younglings who viewed themselves as the center of the universe.
Before his pod could pepper him with more questions about his time in the cave with the bloodthirsty sand, he slipped inside the ship, stopping by the clothes locker. He needed a breather to sort through today’s events, but first he’d stop by Moira’s cabin to check on her. He might have been wrong about her being upset, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure she wasn’t blaming herself—or her bondmate—for Eiocha’s hostile reaction to them.
Clothes had never mattered to him, not even when he spent more of his time in his human form, but he took care the colors didn’t clash. If Moira was upset, he didn’t want to make things worse by showing up at her door looking like a court jester.
He finger-combed his wet, tangled hair and inhaled briskly. Court jester be damned. His real reason for paying attention to the black trousers and shirt, topped with a red jacket, was he aimed to make a good impression, not a slipshod one. Admitting the truth to himself was important, even if that truth started and stopped with him. When he realized he was lingering over the clothing locker longer than necessary, he zipped his coat partway and hurried down the corridor, stopping in front of Moira’s door.
Feeling somewhat foolish, he stopped to listen. A muffled sob met his ears, followed by two more. Leif drew back, shrouding himself with power so she wouldn’t detect his presence. Not only was she troubled, she was troubled enough to be crying. He didn’t know how land Shifters reacted to adversity all that well, but she didn’t strike him as the crying type.
Should he move on by? Approach her at another time? One where she was feeling more balanced? The longer he considered it, the less willing he was to intrude on her grief or her guilt or whatever the hell she was feeling.
Thank the goddess no one chose this particular slice of time to walk down Deck Three’s corridor. It would be difficult to explain why he was standing outside her door, cloaked in magic like some arcane peeping tom.
I am such a fucking coward.
He hurried to the far end of the hall and stared out a porthole, collecting his scattered thoughts. He’d suspected she was troubled; it was why he’d come this way. Yet presented with evidence she was indeed distraught, he’d run like a skittish minnow being chased by a shiver of sharks.
Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he released the magic blanketing him, strode quickly to her door, and knocked once. If she didn’t want to answer, a single knock wasn’t overly intrusive.
A jolt of magic buffeted him, but he’d expec
ted her to at least check who stood outside her door before responding. The next part happened fast. The door flew open, and a Moira with red-rimmed eyes faced him, elbows akimbo and hands on her hips.
“Crap on a cracker,” she muttered, “what’s gone wrong now?”
Understanding kicked him in the guts like an ornery mule. He’d never shown up on her doorstep before. Of course, she’d assume some new disaster had struck.
“Nothing new. Just the same old menu of insoluble problems.”
Moira flipped her hands palms up. “So, why are you here?” Her words were followed by a wince. “Jesus. I’m sorry. That was rude even for me.”
“A good question, though.” He tamped back a soft smile. Damn but he liked her. She had mettle. Grit.
“Are you going to answer it?” She swiped the backs of her hands across her damp cheeks but didn’t offer any explanations for her appearance.
He respected her for that. She owed him nothing. Better to stick with what was real than to pretend they were anything other than two of the last few Shifters in the world fighting for a common goal.
“You seemed upset when you went inside. I stopped by to see if you wanted to talk about our go-round with Eiocha. It was harsh and not the outcome we’d hoped for.”
A complex array of emotion flickered across her expressive features, but he wasn’t certain how to interpret any of them. “It was kind of you to worry about me, but—” She chewed on her lower lip.
Before she told him to go away, he hurriedly said, “Not kind, self-serving.”
“Huh?” She creased her brow into a welter of lines.
“Whenever one of my pod lives through something difficult, we talk it through until the unpleasant emotions that went along with it have found at least partial resolution. Juan and Aura have each other. I have my pod…” Leif faltered, not sure where to go from here. He’d painted himself into a word corner and was reluctant to add the obvious, which was that as far as he could see, she had no one to confide in.