by Ann Gimpel
“It’s a simple enough question,” she replied. “You’re old. I can’t be the first Shifter you’ve bonded with. What happened to the others? Did they die?” Moira tucked her hands under her and scooted so her back rested against the wall. In years past, she’d never have had the moxie to question her bondmate about its past.
“I am not bound to answer such queries.”
“No,” she agreed. “You’re not, but my guess is when your bonded one fell shy of your impossible standards of perfection, you broke the bond, spent years nursing your anger, and then tried again. But the next Shifter eventually did the same thing.” She stopped to let her words sink in before continuing. “The Shifter bond was designed as a partnership, which means both of us have inherent value, not that one of us gets the final say on every single issue.”
The bird remained silent, so Moira pressed on. “We’re only a few days away from a battle that may well kill us all. This is a very bad time for you to decide you’re finished with me, but if you’re going to leave, do it cleanly and go. I’m not going to engage Draconian measures to hold onto you.” Breath rattled through her teeth. “I don’t have the energy.”
“Tessa disappearing isn’t my fault, either.”
“I never said it was. I take full responsibility for that unfortunate event.”
Part of her recoiled from the stand she’d taken. This was even stupider than trying to teleport back to the ship with Tessa. She could duke it out with the bird after the battle. Going into the fight without her bondmate would cripple her, cut her available power by some unknown quantity.
“You’re telling me to break our bond.”
“No. I’m not. What I’m saying is we have to develop a more equitable balance of power if we’re to remain bonded. I’m done stuffing my opinions because I don’t want to offend you, or because what I have in mind won’t measure up to how you believe vultures should act.” She swallowed around a thick place in her throat. “I love you. I’ve loved you from the first time you appeared in my dreams, but even the hardiest love has limits.”
Moira shut up. She’d said enough.
“I have to think about this.”
“Well, don’t think too long. I need to know if you’ll be by my side in the upcoming battle.”
“You will be weak and vulnerable without me.” The bird’s sanctimonious tone was back in spades.
“You think I don’t know that?” Words forced their way past her partially occluded throat. “For all the time you’ve spent linked to humans, you’ve never bothered to learn anything about their customs because you viewed your bondmate as inferior. The bond we share is not unlike a marriage. Breaking it is just like a divorce, and divorces hardly ever happen at auspicious times.”
The place within her where the bird dwelt developed the vacant feel that meant it had departed for the animals’ borderworld. Sadness welled, displacing anger. She really did love her bondmate with all its crassness and idiosyncrasies, but it had to love her the same way. And it didn’t. It only offered acceptance when she acceded to its wishes. Mostly, its lack of tolerance hadn’t gotten in the way when she spent the majority of her time in her human form in a world where most had no idea magic existed.
The Cataclysm sounded a death knell for that world, and once she’d segued into a reality where every day brought new reminders of her magical roots, she’d had more and more run-ins with her bondmate. Where the other women’s animals had been warm and loving, hers remained chilly, critical.
Moira pushed to her feet and undressed, draping clothing over the room’s only chair. She felt numb and depressed as the shower pelted her with first hot and then cold water. She stood under the icy spray for as long as she could stand it to clear her head, before turning off the taps and grabbing a towel.
It was time to put on her game face and head for the dining room. She’d have to alert the others that her vulture might abandon her. They needed to know she wouldn’t be at the top of her magical game and plan accordingly. After the debacle with Tessa, she’d be damned if she’d put anyone else at risk.
She finished drying herself and sopped up as much water as she could from her long hair before bunching it into a bun. Goose bumps lined her arms, and she dressed fast, layering warm items atop one another, and stuffing her feet into a pair of thick woolen socks and her Arctic Pac boots.
She’d be devastated to lose her bondmate, but while she’d been in the shower she’d come to terms with her part in things. Relationships never failed unilaterally, and every time she’d swallowed her opinions, deferring to her vulture, she’d pounded one more nail into the coffin. So much bad water had flowed under the bridge, she didn’t hold out much hope for them finding a way through, but she’d done the right thing.
Finally.
Each time she’d cosigned the vulture’s actions, even when she knew it was wrong, a little part of her died. The bird had a great deal to do with the harsh, bitter, my-way-or-the-highway woman she’d turned into. One who did a damn fine job pretending she didn’t need anybody or anything. The vulture heartily approved of that stance, but look where it had led her.
Moira stood straight and left her cabin. She might not have much time to savor her freedom from the overbearing bird, but she’d make the best of whatever the goddess saw fit to offer. Done with feeling sorry for herself, she sent her magic in a wide arc, hunting for Eiocha.
Had the horse goddess returned? If she had, was Tessa with her?
Breath rasped in her throat as she searched for the goddess’s distinctive feel. She’d get the apology part over with right away. The shimmery flow she associated with Eiocha was, indeed, moving closer. She hadn’t yet returned but was on her way.
Moira dug deeper, working to see past Eiocha’s robust magic. It wasn’t easy since the goddess’s power overshadowed almost everything, but she thought another’s magic skimmed along next to the goddess’s.
Hope kindled.
“Please, please let it be Tessa.” She spoke the words to the empty corridor, pelting to its end and down one flight to Deck Two. The smell of food and the murmur of voices reached her.
Moira hurried into the larger dining room and joined the small group huddled around a table spread with platters of food. She felt guilty she hadn’t helped with this particular meal, but she wouldn’t have been much more than a liability in her frame of mind. Her stomach was still twisted into a knot, but she needed to eat.
Eiocha’s signature magic was nearly upon them. Moira turned away from the food and faced the spot where she felt certain the goddess would emerge. The air bubbled and glistened, forming a silvery gateway. Breath clotted in her chest and breathing became a chore. Her hands knotted into fists, nails cutting into her palms.
Eiocha burst into the dining room with Tessa clinging to her back. Breath whooshed from Moira, and she felt the hot bite of tears as relief coursed through her. Her next moves surprised her. Spontaneous and unchoreographed, they were nothing like her norm.
She ran to Eiocha and fell to her knees, head bowed. “Thank you, Goddess. I haven’t adequate words, but thank you from the bottom of my soul for rescuing my companion. Heartfelt apologies, too, for my behavior this morning. It was inexcusable.”
Moira remained on her knees, head lowered, willing to accept whatever censure fell from the goddess’s lips.
“It’s all right, child. No harm done. Get up and greet your friend.”
Tessa slid from the horse’s back, happiness streaming from her.
Moira straightened, unashamed of the tears rolling down her cheeks. When she held her arms out, Tessa barreled into them. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I got distracted by something shiny and realized too late I’d been suckered into a trap.”
“Same thing that happened to Rowana and me on South Georgia,” Karin said.
All the women had formed a tight circle around them and were exchanging hugs and kisses and offering thanks to Eiocha, who’d morphed back into her human form.
After one more hug, Moira let go of Tessa and returned to where she’d begun filling a plate. Her heart was full, but the exchange with Tessa highlighted exactly what was wrong with the relationship between her and her vulture. Tessa apologized for her role in the failed teleport episode, but Moira had as well. Both of them accepted responsibility for something that hadn’t worked out.
Neither blamed the other.
Moira hoped the vulture had been watching, but the odds were thin since she couldn’t feel its presence.
Leif caught her eye as she glanced about the room hunting for a table with an empty spot. He patted a place next to him, and she nodded, stopping to scoop up a glass of wine before making her way to the table where he sat with Viktor, Ketha, and two whales.
“That wine is a grand idea,” Viktor said. “I’ll go find us a bottle.”
“Be sure to bring glasses,” Ketha said. “Moira has one, but none of the rest of us do.”
“Eh.” He winked at her. “We can pass the bottle around, seaman style.”
Ketha snorted. “Do as you wish, but I’d like a glass.”
Moira settled next to Leif and took a sip of what turned out to be a decent Syrah, rolling it around on her tongue.
“I’m happy for you,” Leif said near her ear.
“Thanks,” she replied. “I can’t recall when I’ve been so relieved to see anyone, and I mended my bridges with Eiocha.”
“I noticed.” He touched her hand, and then went back to his dinner.
She ate methodically, welcoming the warmth of food in her belly. Leif sitting beside her felt right, comforting and exciting by turns, but he wouldn’t even consider joining his life with hers once she wasn’t a Shifter anymore. The thought was like a splash of cold seawater, but it reinforced her resolve.
A quick scan told her most everyone was done eating. She rose to her feet and walked to the front of the room. “Could I have your attention?” She raised her voice for emphasis and waited until the side conversations faded.
“Thank you. This won’t take long, and I guess tonight is my time to apologize. I know the timing couldn’t be worse, but it’s possible my vulture will break its bond with me.”
A wave of surprised gasps rolled through the room, followed by “Why would you think that?” and “You must be overreacting. That’s unheard of.”
Karin started toward her, but Moira shook her head and the wolf Shifter retreated to her chair.
Moira extended the flats of her hands and drew them downward, hoping for silence. “My bondmate and I have had problems for a long time. I circumvented them by always agreeing with it, but today after Tessa disappeared and the bird kept harping about it not being my doing, something snapped.”
Everyone’s attention was riveted on her, so she went on. “I suspect it’s broken bonds with other Shifters. My bird is very old, so I can’t be its first bondmate. When I asked it pointblank what happened to its other mated ones, it refused to answer.”
Moira stopped to take a measured breath. “I’m bringing this up not for sympathy but because if my bondmate abandons me, I have no idea what will happen to my magic. I don’t want to be a liability on the battlefield, and we may have to plan around my weaker magic.”
“No worries, child.” Eiocha surged to her feet. “You will fight alongside me, and I will ensure the ley lines provide what you require.” She hesitated. “I have known your bonded one for a very long time, and it’s added a new dimension to the word stubborn.”
Touched by Eiocha’s candor and generosity, Moira said, “Thank you. That’s all I had to say. We need to move on to planning for the battle.” She strode back to her seat, avoiding the stricken look on Leif’s face. She’d been correct about her no longer being mate material if she wasn’t bonded with an animal.
Sadness rolled through her in a wave with sharp claws, but she pushed it aside. Hard to lose something she’d never had except in the most distant of dreams. She’d come to terms with whatever choice her vulture made, and Tessa was back. Those two things and the battle were important. Everything else paled in comparison.
“I have news about the passageway,” Eiocha trotted nimbly to the space Moira had just vacated at the front of the room. “Afore I begin, might there be any mead aboard this vessel?”
Viktor stood. Something about the goddess encouraged standing before addressing her. “I’m afraid not. We do, however, have scotch whiskey, Irish whiskey, vodka, bourbon, and a credible selection of wine.”
“Irish whiskey.”
“I’ll run and get it.” Ketha slid from her seat.
Eiocha nodded. “About the passageway—”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, er Goddess.” Boris rose, keeping his gaze downcast.
“I give you permission to speak, mortal.”
“Might there be any chance you could address us in English? It’s the one language everyone here understands.” Bobbing his head, he sat, still looking at the floor.
“Aye, I know all languages,” Eiocha said in stilted, archaic English. “No more interruptions unless I solicit your opinions.” Her nostrils flared, and she gazed about the room. “The passageway is in place. It begins where you left the faeries and extends to within a few feet of the fissure. I have anchored it with ley lines, which will infuse magic into its weave and ensure naught disturbs it.”
Ketha trotted back into the dining room and ducked into the kitchen. When she resurfaced, she handed a glass full of amber liquid to Eiocha before making her way to her chair.
Eiocha inclined her head and sipped the fragrant brew. “Some of the fair folk wished to be included in the battle. I moved them to a nearby borderworld where ’tis warmer to await our arrival. I returned the rest to Scotland. Since I was near the fissure, I did a wee bit of scouting.”
The whale who’d been stranded in northern waters rose. Rather than talking, he waited for the goddess to recognize him. She rolled her eyes. “Aye. What is it you would add?”
“I did much the same, Goddess, when I ended up near the fissure. I will be interested to see if your observations match up with mine, or if things have changed.”
“I shall find that interesting as well. The fissure is a busy place with much coming and going. Demons, wicked sprites, a griffon or two, Harpies.” She made a small shrugging gesture. “I thought I caught sight of Tantalus and the Minotaur. Even a few Vampires, although their power appears to be waning.”
“When I was in the same spot a few weeks back,” the whale said, “the place was very quiet. Is there still a guardian who sits at the gate?”
Eiocha nodded. “Several guardians working in shifts. The uptick in activity isn’t surprising. They are gearing up much as we are. Never underestimate underdogs. They can be hellishly tenacious.”
Moira stood, unsure if she should raise her hand or just wait.
“Aye?” Eiocha glanced her way.
“Why are creatures from mythology walking the Earth again?” She smiled faintly. “I suppose my question encompasses you as well as Oberon and Titania.”
A thoughtful whinny emerged from Eiocha, and Moira could almost see her flick an imaginary tail. “I do not know, but my first guess is we are starting over.” She took a measured breath. “Long ago, in the beginnings of the world, good battled evil and won. Evil has been trying to wrest the upper hand back for thousands of years. The Cataclysm changed things, gave evil hope they might gain the toehold they’d been hoping for. So, creatures like the Harpies and Tantalus are working like the demons they are to seize what they feel should have been theirs all along.”
“Thank you.” Moira sat back down.
“’Tis as good an entry point as we are likely to get to crafting battle strategy,” Eiocha said. “Fill me in on how your drill went today, so we can build on it.”
Leif stood and outlined their activities. The consensus once he’d finished was
everyone would be up early the following day for more practice, this time with Eiocha overseeing their efforts. Assuming things went well, they’d sail to Pevek that night with plans to launch their offensive the day after.
No point in waiting. The longer they put things off, the more time their enemy would have to grow stronger.
Moira drained her wine glass and stumbled to her feet. Weariness dragged at her, and she longed for her narrow bunk and a few hours of blackness when nothing could bother her. She was out the door and heading for the stairs when Leif caught up and hooked a hand beneath her arm.
“You’ve had a rough day. Feel like talking?”
People streamed around them on their way to their cabins. Moira waited until everyone was gone. While she waited, she drank in Leif’s beautiful, kind eyes, his classically handsome features, and his broad-shouldered build. Desire stirred in her belly, but she shut it down fast.
“Not much to talk about,” she said. “Tessa’s back, and I did what I should have done long ago with my bondmate.”
“Which was?” His blue eyes never left her face.
“Told it I was done taking shit, that relationships were two-way streets and respect had to flow both ways.”
He tightened his hold on her arm. “I asked my dolphin to talk with your bondmate.”
“Aw, that was kind, but unnecessary. My vulture has a nasty habit of not listening to anyone.”
“Moira.” The way he said her name was part entreaty, part prayer, and she wanted to hear him say it again.
“It’s all right. My timing standing up to my bondmate is abysmal, but this would have happened sooner or later.”
He dropped his other hand on her shoulder. “No matter how this works out, I love you. I want you as my mate.”
She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “You need another Shifter as a mate, but I appreciate the thought.”
“No. I need you. We’ll revisit this after the battle—assuming we’re both still alive.” He kissed her forehead and let go of her.
The places his hands had rested on her body felt empty. It was hard not to wrap her arms around him and drag him into the nearest cabin, but that would add a layer of complexity neither of them needed. “See you in the morning.” She smiled, hoping he’d recognize how much he meant to her without her having to say the words.