“Go in?” I asked, sharply. While the bling torture had been amusing, I wanted no part of actual torture.
“Mentally,” she replied, grimly.
“Oh,” I said. “Like what—”
“Graeme does? Yes.”
“You can do that?”
“I can. But unlike Graeme, I’m really good at it. So I can do what I did to you in that soda shop.”
I nodded, remembering. The first time I’d met Blondie she’d made me see all sorts of vines and stuff grow out of the darkness. All when, in reality, I’d been standing in a brightly lit ice cream parlor.
“Which is not invasive at all,” she finished, as I nodded again. For what she’d done to me had felt outside of my mind, rather than in it. I knew she hadn’t been party to my thoughts, or anything like that.
“But you can do more than that?” I prompted.
“Oh, yeah. Like I said, I can do what I did to you, which is basically a party trick. Or I can go in. Way in. I can pull whatever I want out of your mind. But that’s more like what Graeme does. That’s more like—”
“A violation,” I said, for her.
“Yes,” she replied. “And not something I like doing.”
“I can understand that,” I said, fulfilling my requirement for Understatement of the Week.
“But if Fugwat knows something, and we don’t get it out of him, and this whole part of the country gets wiped out—”
“Then we’ll be responsible.”
“Yep.”
I came up beside her and took her hand in mine. “You’ll have to do it,” I said, hating to put that on her, hating to make her responsible. But she’s the only one who could be sure Fugwat was telling the truth.
“I know,” she said, and I felt her squeeze my fingers with her own. “But it sucks. Sometimes I wish I could go back to hunting and gathering. Life was simpler back then.”
“Betcha it wasn’t,” I said, resisting the urge to tweak her wee button nose. “Life is usually difficult. It’s just about keepin’ on, keepin’ on. For which we will need the Eastern Seaboard.”
She snorted. “True, Ms. True. Very true. Now stand aside. This could get ugly.”
“Nope,” I said, keeping my grip on her fingers. “I’m with you for this. We’re doing it together.”
The smile she gave me at hearing my words warmed the cockles of my heart, and also made my palms sweat a little. It suddenly occurred to me that, secret keeping or no, I was well on my way to developing a girl crush. Of which the makers of Selkies Gone Wild would, undoubtedly, be happy to hear.
After she took a few deep breaths, I felt the Original’s power ripple out, but not in the way I was used to. This wasn’t physical power; this was something totally different. That said, I couldn’t really describe it, as it was so intangible. Instead, it was like a disturbance, but one that rippled my mind and my emotions rather than my hair or clothes. In other words, my physical senses weren’t registering anything, but it was like a fan was blowing over my brain or my heart.
“Wow,” I breathed, opening up my senses and letting my magic touch Blondie’s. On the one hand, it was interesting. But, on the other, more devious hand, I could almost feel how she was doing it.
And if I can feel how she does it, I can stop Graeme in the future, I thought.
Letting my magical senses pick up everything they could, I tuned back into the scene in front of me.
If Blondie’s power was wafting in on a gentle breeze over my brain, it was obviously blowing against Fugwat’s like a typhoon. His face was pinched shut, his every muscle straining as if trying to physically keep out the Original’s mind. But it was no use.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open to reveal what appeared to be a vacancy, just as his face and body slumped slackly.
“Tell us what we want to know, Fugwat Spriggan, and your mind is yours again.” Blondie sounded weary, both emotionally and physically. If doing the mind mojo burned up that much of an Original’s power, no wonder Graeme employed it only as a last resort.
“I told you,” the spriggan whimpered. “I know nothing. The other two marks are still hidden.”
“How did you find the first two?” she asked.
“They were recorded. Alfar histories said where to find them. It was just a matter of getting past the gnome.”
Blondie looked at me, warning me with a small shake of her head not to let our big gnome-is-now-a-baby secret out of the bag. As if.
“You’ve already opened this glyph?” Phaedra asked, although, by its static appearance, I was pretty sure we knew the answer.
“Yes,” was Fugwat’s only response.
“And where else is Phaedra looking?” I asked, instead. Fugwat didn’t answer, however, until Blondie repeated my question.
“She’s got no idea,” he said. “She’s looking everywhere. But she thinks one has to be in the sea somewhere.”
“Why do you want to awaken the creature?” Blondie asked.
Fugwat whimpered, but he didn’t speak. I felt the Original exert more mental force.
“Tell me. Why do you want to awaken the creature?” she repeated, brutally forcing her own mind into Fugwat’s.
This time the spriggan was no match. He slumped forward even more, his eyes staring glassily. “The dragons are awake,” he murmured. “The white king and the red queen are mustering their forces. Phaedra says we bring the fall of Man.”
At his words, Blondie went stock still, her own eyes growing large and distant.
The dragons? I thought. What the hell? And who are the white king and the red queen? Maybe Jarl and Morrigan? He is awfully pale, and she’s got the blood of Orin on her hands.
But before I could speculate more, I felt Blondie withdraw her power from Fugwat. She still looked discomfited, but she was obviously doing her best to appear like all was normal.
“Well, that wasn’t useless,” she said. “We know that Phaedra’s as stuck as we are, at least. So that gives us an advantage.”
“Who’re the white king and red queen?” I blurted out, too curious to wait.
She frowned. “That’s not something we can discuss here. And I have to do some checking into things… What’s happening can’t be happening. I need to do some research. Can you be patient with me, Jane?”
I considered the question. I hated being left in the dark, but I did trust Blondie.
“Sure, I can be patient. As long as you promise to tell me when you find out something,” I said.
“I will. I promise. But right now, we have to take care of the here and now, in Rockabill,” Blondie said. I frowned.
“Are you sure we need to pursue this champion thing?” I asked. “Why can’t we just bury all of this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if Phaedra’s the issue… we can always just take out her and her gang.”
“I’m assuming you mean ‘take out’ as in ‘dead,’ not as in ‘Chinese food’?” she asked. I nodded, surprised at my own bloodthirstiness.
“I’ve considered it,” she admitted. But now we know someone is behind these attacks… so they’ll just send more people. At least we know Phaedra, and know some of her weaknesses.”
Blondie had a good point. Even if Phaedra and her gang weren’t around, it didn’t make Rockabill any safer from other beings sent by the enemy.
“What if we find and destroy the glyphs? So they can’t be awakened, and no one gets to be champion?” I asked.
“I don’t think they want to be destroyed, as our friends learned the hard way. We could end up like Anyan and Nell. Or worse.”
“What if we don’t open them, but find them and guard them?”
“For the rest of our lives? No matter what they send along to take us out?”
I sighed. Blondie was right. We had to find the creature and let her get the power it offered, and then she could do something about it. Which raised an interesting question.
“What will you do when you’re champion?�
�� I asked.
“What?”
“What will you do with all that power?”
She frowned. “I dunno. I hadn’t thought about it. What would you do, Jane?” Her eyes had a faraway look when she asked that question, as if she were thinking hard.
“I dunno,” I said. “Keep it safe, I guess.” Then I frowned. “But something has to be done about the creature, doesn’t it? If it makes a champion, it’s still big and buried, right? Can it still be awakened?”
“Yes, it could still be awakened. Would you kill it?”
I frowned. “Why would I kill it? It’s this ancient thing. That would be like steamrolling Pompeii.”
Blondie’s eyes refocused, and she smiled at me. “We will have to deal with that issue, but let’s deal with everything else first. I like to do things by the seat of my pants: Too many plans make for too many things to go wrong.”
“And we still have to locate the missing glyphs,” I started, before I was interrupted.
“The signs protect destruction,” Fugwat called from the floor in front of us. Blondie and I frowned at each other before we both looked toward him.
“The signs protect destruction,” he repeated. “The signs protect…”
He continued on like that, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging, barely moving as he spoke.
“I don’t think Fugwat’s in the driver’s seat,” I said.
“Nope.”
“The sign protects destruction,” the spriggan added, helpfully. Blondie took a step toward him, but I stopped her. I wanted to try something different from the “smack now, ask questions later” everyone seemed to favor these days.
Instead, I moved forward to crouch in front of the spriggan.
“We know the signs protect destruction,” I said, in my calmest, most soothing voice.
“The signs protect destruction,” Fugwat replied.
“Yes,” I said. “We got that, but—”
“The signs protect destructions.”
“Okay, but—”
“The signs protect destruction.” Clearly, Fugwat’s possessor was not one to be sidetracked. The spriggan was rocking faster now, repeating “the signs protect destruction” at an even more rapid rate. I tried to interrupt him a few more times, but it was useless. Frustrated, I grabbed Fugwat by the shoulders.
“Fine! We get it!” I shouted. “But where are the damned signs?”
Fugwat’s still-vacant gaze flicked to mine, as if something were using his eyes to study me. I resisted the urge to back away, instead meeting that blank stare with my own black eyes.
“That which is closest to your heart,” came a deep voice that sounded nothing like the spriggan’s normal tones, before he collapsed in a heap at my feet.
“What?” I asked, partially of the spriggan and partially of Blondie. “What does he mean ‘closest to my heart’? Why my heart?”
Blondie wandered over, toeing the spriggan with the tip of her boot. I was too in shock to do anything but blink as she apparated him out of the cavern with a powerful burst of magic.
“I dunno, sugarpants,” she said, her eyes shifty. “Add that to our list of mysteries.”
“Where’d you send him?” I asked, inspired by the part of my brain not reeling at what Fugwat’s possessor had just said.
“Abu Dhabi,” she replied.
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Huh. Maybe he can hang out with Nermal or Odie,” I said.
“While I appreciate that we’re on the same page with the Garfield references,” she said, taking me by the shoulders and turning me to face her, “right now we’ve got to dig down deep and find out what’s closest to that pretty little heart of yours. Before Phaedra’s lot does it with a spoon.”
Thanks for that image, I thought, shuddering. Too bad I’ve got no idea what that thing meant.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
For the first time ever, five people were sitting around my battered old kitchen table and not playing poker. My father, the usual poker culprit, was out with his own friends, having a “man’s night” down at the Sty. Nowadays that meant sitting around the table with cheeseburgers as they discussed their latest medical ailments. I still couldn’t get over my relief that my dad now had only typical, age-related joint aches to complain about, rather than a genetically flawed heart.
Unfortunately, I still hadn’t had a chance to celebrate with him. Blondie had apparated us directly from the cavern underneath Gus’s rock to my cove, where I’d had a quick swim to recharge, and then to my house, where we’d rounded up the troops. Currently sitting around my kitchen table were Trill—cradling baby Nell—Caleb, Iris, Blondie, and me. Oh, and Anyan, who was underneath the table, trying to sniff everyone’s crotch.
What I wouldn’t give for a rolled-up newspaper, I thought, suppressing a yawn. We’d been going for almost a day at this point, and I was starting to feel it. But at least someone had the good sense to make bacon. I licked at a few greasy crumbs of a bacon sandwich still clinging to my fingers. All war efforts need the warming effects of salty pork fat to keep their wheels turning.
“Um, Earth to Jane. Are you with us?” Blondie’s sharp voice cut through my reverie.
I looked at her, and then dropped my eyes pointedly at the uneaten strip of bacon on her plate. She sighed, and then pushed her plate toward me. I quickly began eating her bribe before she could change her mind. Or give it to the dog.
Who gives away bacon? I wondered. Originals are weird.
“Selkies,” I heard her mumble, before taking a deep breath. “Anyway, we were asking you if there were any other places that were close to your heart, Jane.”
“Where’ve you checked, again?” I asked. After my swim, I just might have fallen asleep for an hour on my ratty old couch while we waited on everyone to arrive. Blondie had been busy checking out the places I could list for her off the top of my head, so I enjoyed a wee catnap. Only to awake to the non-ghest barghest licking my face like I had Alpo hidden in my cheeks.
Blondie sighed. “We’ve checked where Jason, Nick, and Nan have their memorial stones, and where their ashes were buried. We’ve probed the hell out of your house, and Anyan’s. We’ve tried your friends’ houses, and we’ve even tried Read It and Weep.”
“And you got nothing?”
“We got nothing.”
Hmmm, I puzzled, as my brain yawned. I wish I had more bacon… Then I thought of the most obvious thing ever.
“Did you check the cove?” I asked. Clearly that was the place closest to my heart.
“That was the first place I looked,” Blondie replied. “While you were swimming.”
Iris nodded. “Everyone knows your obsession with the cove.”
“It’s not an obsession… It’s a healthy relationship. The cove gives me pleasure. I keep her sand combed. It works for everyone.”
“Uh-huh,” Iris said, patting my hand.
“There’s one thing that makes no sense,” said Caleb. “Jane’s been alive for only a few decades. Surely her interests can’t have dictated where these sigils are buried.”
“No, it’s got to be something that’s a coincidence. Something that Jane happens to like and that’s also where one of the glyphs is buried,” Blondie said.
“How do we even know to trust this voice?” Iris interrupted. “I mean, all it’s done is warn us, in a way that’s really scary.”
“Is there a friendly way to warn about the destruction of a big chunk of the continent?” asked Trill.
“I think what Iris is saying,” said Caleb, always the peacemaker, “is that those ‘warnings’ could just as well have been threats, or bait. Maybe whoever is doing them is leading us on a wild goose chase.”
Blondie frowned. “Were any of the other places close to your heart?” she asked me.
“I’ve never even been to Gus’s rock, but obviously Jason’s house was very close to my heart,” I answered.
“So we have one connection and one nonconn
ection,” Blondie said. “Which leaves us with nothing.”
“Are there any other things that connect the two places?” I asked.
“Well… they were both homes,” Iris said.
“Both built under homes,” I said.
“Actually, had houses built over them,” Blondie corrected.
I chewed my lower lip as I thought. This whole conversation was starting to sound very familiar…
“But one was the house of a mortal family. The other was the rock of a stone spirit. Both homes, but still very different,” Blondie argued.
“Actually, Nell and I lived where that house stood, too,” Trill said, still rocking the baby in her arms.
“When?” Blondie asked, sharply.
“Hundreds of years ago. Right before Nell bonded to this land. And come to think of it, so did Russ.”
“Who’s Russ?” Blondie asked.
“He’s a really old nahual,” I answered. “He’s been retired for a few years as a family pet. A dachshund.”
“Why isn’t he around? Why haven’t I met him?” she demanded. Apparently She Who Keeps Secrets didn’t like being left in the dark about something.
Iris sighed. “Poor Russie isn’t doing well these days. He rarely goes outside anymore.”
“But he lived where the Grays did?”
“He definitely built the house that stood on the property, prior to this last one being built. And, actually, I think he might have built that second house, too,” Trill answered, thinking. “No, he definitely built that one, as well. He’s the one who sold it to Nick and Nan. There were some other folks interested, including quite a few of our kind. But Russ wanted to keep the sale within Rockabill, to Rockabill folk. He’s lived here since the town was built.”
“I think that’s it,” I said, starting to put it all together. “Trill, why did you and Nell live on that spot?”
“I dunno. It was just… home.”
“And did other people want to live there?”
“Sure, lots. It was nice property. Easily defended, back in the day. And scenic, what with it being built on the bluff.”
“But Russ got it?” I asked.
Eye of the Tempest (Jane True) Page 17