by Ann Gimpel
“It’s all right.” Recco lifted his head and stepped away from the microscope. He glanced at his chair, and then remained standing. It helped him think.
“I recognize your look,” Daide said. “Talk to me.”
“All this”—Recco swept his arms wide—“is familiar. Examining cells for things that shouldn’t be there. Crafting decisions predicated on the outcome of what we find—”
“We haven’t operated that way for a long time,” Daide broke in. “We couldn’t.”
“Maybe not, but the second a semblance of a lab showed up, we glommed onto it.”
Daide nodded. “Sure. It makes perfect sense since it’s what we believe in. What we were trained to do.”
“Our attraction to science-based decision-making is understandable,” Recco agreed. “What if it’s a waste of time?”
Daide drew away as if Recco had slapped him. He opened his mouth, shut it with an audible clack, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Recco smiled grimly. “Heresy, yes? How could any scientific line of inquiry be a waste of time? We spent our lives basing almost every important decision on answers we got from the lab. It’s not the same world out there.”
“The laws of physics can’t have changed,” Daide sputtered.
“Maybe not. Nothing we’ve faced since we defeated the Cataclysm has had any relationship to what’s on this slide.” He moved close enough to tap the innocuous sliver of glass mounted on the instrument’s stage. “Yet we’ve clung to what we know.”
His wolf howled, startling him, and Recco jumped.
“What?” Daide stared.
“I must be on the right track. My wolf gave me the rhetorical equivalent of a high-five.”
“Ketha and Karin wouldn’t agree. If they weren’t busy doing whatever they’re up to with Zoe, they’d be here glued to microscopes exactly like us.” Daide frowned. “They have a grasp of the magical world, so maybe there’s a nexus where the two intersect.”
“Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater?”
“Something like it.” Daide shrugged. “I wish—” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You’d like it better if we had an instruction manual. I would too. It was the one plus about Raphael. He not only turned us, he made damn good and sure we understood the fine points about being Vampires. Except he crammed them down our throats.”
Daide snorted. “The lessons didn’t stick, or he’d have had a more loyal cadre—”
Ketha and Karin barreled into the lab. “How are our samples?” Ketha demanded.
“They look normal again,” Recco replied, followed by, “Will Zoe be all right?” He wasn’t certain how the last five words snuck out, but he couldn’t call them back.
Ketha sent a speculative glance scudding his way. “She’s fine. Sleeping, with a small assist from us.”
“Why was she the one snared by the lyre?” Daide asked.
“An excellent question, and not one I have a ready answer for,” Karin replied. “Out of all of us, she probably has the most musical talent. It may be why the lyre targeted her.”
“Would the Sirens have had a way of recognizing her affinity for music?” Recco furled his brows.
“Probably.” Ketha closed her teeth over her lower lip. “We don’t know much more about them than you do.”
“Would the bond animals know?” Daide cut in.
“Have you asked your coyote?” Karin narrowed her eyes.
Daide looked uncomfortable when he got to his feet and faced Karin. “Mostly, I’m afraid to ask it much of anything. It’s temperamental. I was grateful when it returned, and I haven’t wanted to risk alienating it.”
Karin placed her hands on her hips. “You weren’t listening very well when you and I worked together. You have entirely the wrong attitude. The bond is one of equals. We have different skills, and you approach your coyote the same way you face Recco. As a valued partner.” She took a measured breath. “To answer your question more directly, my wolf doesn’t hold knowledge about the Sirens. Each bond animal has its own strengths—and its own information base. It’s possible Juan’s cat might understand the Sirens’ magic because it’s so ancient.”
“Have you asked it directly?” Ketha spoke up.
“When would I have had a chance?” Karin countered.
“True enough.” Ketha slid into the seat Daide had vacated and peered through the binocular eyepieces, clearly intent on taking her own read on the material on the slide. “Did you check all of them?” she demanded.
“Nope. Only that one,” Daide said. “I’d planned to be more thorough, but Recco showed up.”
“Sure. Blame me.” Recco tried to joke. Daide shot him such a pained look, he switched focus. “All of us don’t need to be here. I’ll run up to the bridge.”
“We stopped there first,” Karin said. “Viktor and Juan were poring over nautical charts.”
“Yeah. They’re worried about pack ice surrounding us,” Ketha muttered, not looking up from the microscope. “At least at the point we were there, they’d pretty much decided to risk the storm and keep the ship moving.”
Recco nodded and walked briskly from the room. An unsettled sensation landed like a brick in his guts; he ignored it. He might not know much about ships, but he’d studied plenty of maps. And he’d lived in Ushuaia long enough to have witnessed bays filling up with ice. Rather than focusing on all the places he wasn’t much more than dead weight, he tried for a more positive spin and ran solutions through his mind.
On his way up the stairs, he paused on the landing for Deck Three. He wanted to stop by Zoe’s cabin. The women had said she was asleep, though. She’d been through a hell of an experience, and it was better not to bother her. Besides, who knew if she’d even welcome him? She’d thrashed like a cornered animal when he’d pinned her in place to keep her from strumming the lyre.
He’d been close enough to feel the thing’s magic, except what was directed at him had ordered him to let Zoe go. Prickly heat had traveled up his fingertips to his shoulders, shooting unpleasant jolts of burning pain into his joints. He flinched at the memory, and kept moving.
Time enough to approach Zoe later, after she was rested.
He trotted smartly up the remaining sets of stairs until he reached the bridge. Pulling the door open, he walked through. Viktor and Juan were still huddled over the chart table, deep in conversation.
“Can I help?” Recco asked, adding hastily, “With anything at all. I like being busy—and useful.”
Viktor straightened. “How about helping Juan with the anchor?”
“Sure. I take it we’re leaving.”
“No choice,” Juan said. “This storm’s not going to blow itself out for at least another day, maybe two. We can’t wait it out. We’ll be stuck in several feet of pack ice if we don’t keep moving.”
“That’s the key, then?” Recco met his gaze. “Forward motion?”
“It’s our primary weapon,” Juan clarified. “But it’s far from absolute. We could still end up mired in ice. There won’t be an easy way to get to McMurdo if this keeps up. For all I know, the part of the Ross Sea next to the continent might be frozen solid now.”
“Isn’t the base manned year-round?”
“It used to be,” Viktor said, “and the Americans have an icebreaker. It may still be operational. Or not.”
“What if it’s not? After Arctowski, I’m wondering who will even be at the base.” Recco felt he was asking too many questions, but it was the only method he had for gathering information.
“So are we,” Viktor murmured. “I’ve been trying to raise them on the radio. It runs off satellites, so I’m not surprised there’s been no response.”
“Once we get closer, we should be able to use shortwave radio,” Juan spoke up.
“How close is that? Sorry to be a pest. I like to understand how things work.”
“You won’t like my answer,” Juan said. “Shortwaves can broadcast o
ver thousands of miles. Before we relied on satellites, they were our main way of communicating at sea.”
“What am I missing here?” Recco narrowed his eyes. “If shortwave is as efficient as satellites, wouldn’t they get through?”
“If someone is on the other end with a radio on, and they’re actively hunting for broadcasts, sure,” Viktor said. “There are a bunch of unknowns, though. Radios require electricity, either directly or via batteries.”
“After ten years, most batteries would be defunct, even the lithium ion type,” Recco said.
“Exactly,” Juan said. “And we have no idea if McMurdo has any generator capacity left. They’d have run through their fuel supplies long ago.”
“Maybe.” Viktor shrugged. “Arctowski had plenty of biodiesel, and even though they couldn’t finesse it, it’s not hard to retrofit generators to run on other fuels.”
“Lots of questions. Very few answers,” Recco murmured.
“About the size of it, mate,” Viktor replied. “The anchor?”
“On our way.” Juan snapped off a sloppy salute.
Recco followed him out of the bridge. “Do you suppose whoever was at McMurdo abandoned it?”
Juan shook his head. “A more likely scenario is they’re all dead.”
“How?”
Juan stopped on the landing for Deck Five and turned to face Recco. “Ten years is a long time. Survival hangs by a thread here. My first bet is the generators failed, and whoever was left froze. Second guess is a fire knocked out a big part of the facility, and whoever wasn’t burned, froze.” He clattered down another set of risers.
“So you’re not holding out much hope?”
Juan glanced over a shoulder and grimaced. “This is what hope looks like, amigo. An empty research station is far better than if monsters have taken over the installation. My advice to Vik was we should skip it entirely. Why risk stopping since we can’t raise anyone on the radio?”
It was a good question. Why wasn’t Viktor paying attention to Juan’s recommendation? Rather than get in the middle of something, Recco said, “I’ll meet you out on deck. Got to stop for my coat and gloves.”
“Put your bibs on,” Juan instructed. “And a life vest. The way the wind is whipping, I’ll be fully duded up too. No point taking chances when we don’t have to.”
Recco gave him a thumbs-up sign and ran for his cabin. He appreciated Juan’s quiet competence, and he didn’t want to keep him waiting. As he threw on clothes, an idea formed. They’d all gather on the bridge after dinner and talk about the pros and cons of stopping at McMurdo. Get everything into the open and go with majority rule.
Chapter Seven: Choices
Zoe started from a deep sleep at a staunch knock on her door. Aura pushed it open and walked to her bunk. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Dinner is in a quarter hour.”
“Ugh.” Zoe rolled over and groaned. Her head pounded, and her eyes felt scratchy even before she tried opening them.
The mattress tilted and sank when Aura sat next to her. Firm hands rubbed her shoulders, and healing magic swirled around her, counterpart to her fatigue—and her guilt. No matter what Ketha and Karin had said, recounting her ensorcellment at the hands of the Sirens’ lyre only made her feel worse. Nothing she’d come up with ameliorated even a scrap of her crushing sense of responsibility.
She should have slit her own wrists before she allowed anything to steal her judgment or her free will.
“Hmmm.” Aura’s fingers dug deeper.
“Hmmm, what?” Zoe’s words were muffled by her pillow, so she flipped over. “Never mind. Go away. I’ll take a quick shower and be along presently.” She offered a smile, one that didn’t fool Aura.
Green eyes zeroed in on her face until Zoe wanted to shrink into herself. “Goddammit. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” Aura’s voice radiated innocence.
“Like I’m some variety of intriguing relic you uncovered on one of your history field trips.”
“Do you want me not to care?” Aura dropped her hand back onto Zoe’s upper arm, and her eyes never left Zoe’s face.
The question was laced with compassion and warmth. A dam rose, cracking open, and Zoe blinked back tears. “Do. Not. Be. Kind. It only makes things worse.”
“Would you like it better if I read you the riot act?” Aura arched a brow.
“Probably not. I have to find a way to forgive myself. Until I can, I’m not care-worthy material.” She scooted to a sit and stuffed both pillows behind her back. “Don’t you see?”
“I see a lot of things.” Aura clasped her hands in her lap. “You’re far from the first Shifter to make a mistake and get snared in wicked magic. Hell’s bells, woman. I nearly died in the church on Grytviken because I misjudged the strength of my adversary. Juan gave me a raft of crap for it. I still see it in his mind when he looks at me. As if he’s trying to reassure himself I’ll never do anything quite so stupid again.”
“He loves you.”
Aura’s expression softened. “Yes, he does, but it’s not the point.”
“Aye. I know. You’re trying to normalize what I did. Except you were fighting evil and got in over your head faster than you anticipated. I wasn’t doing anything nearly so noble. A pretty bauble caught my eye, and I convinced myself I was the only one who could coax music from it. I believed it needed my skill as a musician to come into its own. How’s that for hubris?” A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Zoe brushed it away.
“Not the word I’d use.” Without stopping long enough for Zoe to contradict her, Aura forged ahead. “Hubris means foolish pride or dangerous overconfidence. I’ve known you for a long time, and I wouldn’t use either of those phrases to describe you.”
“Ketha and Karin said much the same. It was still a relief when they left.”
“Why don’t you believe any of us? We’re not in the habit of lying to one another to salve our feelings.”
Zoe looked away. “I don’t know why this feels worse. Maybe because I heard the music for weeks and ignored it. If I’d used magic to follow it to its source, maybe we could have avoided today.”
“What does your coyote say?”
“Not much help from that quarter. Its first words afterward were it had failed me.”
“Better than blaming you for all the shit you’re blaming yourself for.”
“Maybe so,” Zoe mumbled. There might be a way out of the pit she’d dug herself into. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t happen quickly.
Aura angled her head to one side. “Have you heard music or seen the lyre since you got back on Arkady?”
“No music. The lyre showed up in a dream I was having when you woke me.”
“Do you remember any of it?” Aura’s shrewd gaze sharpened another few notches.
“Not much,” Zoe admitted. “I had to be back in the U.K. because it was dark and warm and green and rainy. Ireland has a unique smell, and it was all around me. Didn’t realize how much I missed that scent until now. Anyway, I’d gone on a ramble in the countryside north of Belfast. A threatening storm was escalating fast. I told myself it didn’t matter, and I kept going.”
Zoe shut her eyes to recreate the dream’s fragments. “The wind tore at me, and I had a sense something harsh and threatening was after me. I was afraid to turn around, but then I remembered the story about shadows following you in dreams and turning around to face your fears. So I did.”
Aura crooked two fingers, clearly wanting her to keep going.
Zoe bent forward and wrapped her arms around her upraised knees. “It was the oddest thing. The lyre was suspended in darkness, and it glowed with a fey light. Every gemstone twinkled, inviting me to rescue it.” She swallowed back a sour taste coating her tongue. “I turned tail and ran the other way. No hubris there. Just sheer cowardice.”
“You are not a coward, and you made the right choice. Interesting comparison, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Y
ou mentioned shadow, so I assumed you were talking about the dream Carl Jung had. It was a lot like yours. He was running through dark and fog and wind, sheltering a lit candle—or lantern—with his hands. He had the same sense of doom following him. When he turned to face it, he recognized his fears as groundless, whereas yours were real.”
Zoe looked away. “I want to put this whole episode behind me. Am I dreaming about the fucking thing as a way of processing what happened? Or am I dreaming about it because it’s not done with me?” A shiver started in her shoulders and tracked all the way to her toes.
“You’ll figure it out.” Aura stood. “Pull yourself together and come down for dinner before everything’s turned cold. Hiding in bed isn’t your style.”
“I wasn’t hiding—” Zoe bit her words off at the source. It had been exactly what she was doing. She felt guilty and ashamed and hadn’t wanted to face anyone after Ketha and Karin were done dissecting her actions. Not that they hadn’t been kind, but they’d been thorough too. It was why Aura’s attempt to draw a parallel with her fight in the church hadn’t rung true.
“See you soon.” Aura walked across the cabin and let herself out the door.
Zoe tossed her legs over the side of the bunk and planted her stocking-clad feet on the floor. “We’ll find a way through this,” she told her coyote. It didn’t answer. Maybe it was still licking its hurt places too.
“Tincture of time,” she muttered as she dragged herself upright. She felt like she’d been in a fight. All her muscles ached, but they didn’t compare to the pain in her soul. She dropped clothing on the floor and stepped into the shower, setting the water as hot as she could stand it.
She hadn’t allowed herself to think about Recco before. He blasted into her head as she stood beneath the spray. He’d held onto her. Kept her from making a mistake, one that would have sealed her fate. Eventually, the transformation would have been complete, and she’d have joined the other Sirens, locked in their icy vault at the bottom of the world. Her coyote would have been lost to her forever.
The last of the soap and shampoo sluiced down her body, and she turned off the tap. The shame dogging her earlier returned. Recco was a decent man with a strong sense of who he was. He’d been stronger than she was, and she wasn’t certain how she could face him.