“Ready?” Jack asked, standing beside me. He was wearing board shorts and a tank top, his feet bare on the sandy path. Blond hair stirred in the evening breeze, brushing his shoulders. He looked like any Australian male on holiday at the beach.
Except your average male didn’t have long ears protruding from sun-bleached hair, each easily four inches long from scalp to tip.
“I guess.” I took a deep breath, savouring the briny smell that evoked memories of summer vacations with my father. I picked my way down the path to the beach, thongs clicking against my heels as I stepped between the weathered log retainers. Jack followed. The plastic bag he was holding rustled faintly.
When we reached the beach I shook off my shoes and picked them up, hooking them over one finger. The sand was cool under my feet; the radiant heat of the hot summer day had almost faded. “Where to?”
Jack pointed towards the worn, even stones scattered at the feet of the towering headland. The water pounded, working patiently to undermine the rocky bluff and send it crashing into the sea. A deep rock pool shimmered in the moonlight, connected to the ocean by a winding channel that surged and retracted with the tide.
We picked our way across the stones to the empty pool. I glanced at Jack. “This is the place,” he assured me.
I nodded, trying not to feel nervous. Jack seemed calm—his aura was a uniform light blue, like a winter sky—and I resolved to try and emulate him.
I could have taken a sample of that light blue calm to help me relax, but I didn’t know how to do it without damaging him. That was why I was lurking on a south coast beach in the middle of the night in the first place.
One of the shadowy rocks in the pool moved, floating towards us. I jumped, staring. The shape drifted from the shadows into the moonlight, revealing that it wasn’t a rock but a head, hairless and with tiny, round ears. Two solid black eyes opened wide, examining us for a long moment before their owner stood.
Water streamed off its—his?—naked body, splashing into the pool. His skin gleamed silvery blue and his chest was broad and flat, tapering to a narrow waist. He didn’t have a bellybutton. Mercifully, the water was opaque and reached the middle of his taut belly, so I didn’t have to avert my gaze from an ironclad confirmation of his sex.
“So this is your half-breed master?” The creature spoke to Jack with a watery hiss, slow and deliberate.
Jack bristled. I stepped forward. “I’m Isla.”
“The half-breed aosidhe,” the creature insisted, narrowing his eyes.
I shrugged. His tone was insulting but the words were true. My mother was an aosidhe, a noble faerie, and my father was a human. “If you say so.”
“I do.” He smiled, showing two rows of serrated white teeth, like a shark’s jaw they’d shown us in science last year. What would it be like to be torn at by such a set of teeth? The worrying thought was more insistent now than it was in school, because the jaw was still attached to its owner.
The creature chortled, enjoying my reaction to his appearance. Irritation surged, making me scowl. “And you are?”
“I am Mako. A full-breed siren.”
I ignored the jab. “Jack says you’ve agreed to teach me how to manipulate emotions.”
“I agreed to talk to you,” Mako corrected, waggling a fine-boned finger at me. “I need a couple of things from you before I agree to be your teacher.”
“We have the meat.” Jack reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a tray of pork chops. He held it up so Mako could inspect the contents.
The siren ran a blue-grey tongue over his teeth. “Oh yes. It’s been a long time since I’ve had land-meat. Very good.”
“Here.” I pierced the transparent wrap with my finger and pulled a chop out, tossing it to the creature in the pool. He caught it dextrously, tearing a piece of raw flesh free and chewing it with disturbing enthusiasm. I was glad the poor light bleached the colours from the world, so I wouldn’t have to see the red-brown of the blood that trickled down his chin.
“Another?” Mako asked when he finished the first chop. There were two more in the packet.
“You can have one more halfway through the lesson, and the last at the end,” I said, handing the tray to Jack. I rinsed my fingers, which were faintly sticky from handling the raw meat, in a rivulet of seawater that ran past my feet.
Mako stared at me. Worry knotted in my stomach—would he refuse? But after several heartbeats he smiled that toothy smile. “Very well, half-breed. I will be your teacher. But you must swear me an oath first. That you will not harm me.”
“Will you swear the same oath to me?” I asked, mindful of the speed with which he’d devoured the raw pork chop.
The siren stiffened, glaring at me with outrage. “Do you mock?”
I glanced at Jack, who shook his head. “The sirens swore an oath generations ago not to harm any living thing not born in the sea,” he murmured. “He cannot harm you, even if he wishes to.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Mako. “I didn’t know.”
This mollified him. He gazed at the tray of meat, and I felt sorry for him … until he spoke. “We used to be able to hunt our own land-meat, but now we only get to eat it if it falls into the water, already dead.”
I knew what he meant. Drowning victims. Dumped animal carcasses. I shuddered before biting my lip, steeling myself. This was the only teacher Jack had been able to find me. I had to be polite.
I recited the words Jack and I had agreed on beforehand. “I, Isla Blackman, swear not to harm you, Mako, in exchange for you teaching me how to control my ability to see and manipulate emotions.”
Mako nodded, considering, his thin lips pursed. “Agreed,” he said finally.
I felt the oath settle over the two of us, shivering against my skin as it bound me to uphold my word.
And so my lessons began.
Acknowledgements
For an occupation that is seen as a solo endeavour, writing sure involves a lot of people. If it weren’t for the following, Isla’s Inheritance wouldn’t be in your hand—or on your e-reader—today.
To Peter, alpha reader and friend, thank you for your initial feedback, moral support and those invaluable brainstorming sessions. I couldn’t have done it without you. To my beta readers, Mikey, Chynna-Blue and Ali, you’re the best. I owe you all chocolate. To my parents, Lorraine and Fred, thank you for not trying to talk me out of studying writing at university (even though you probably should have!). And finally a big thanks to the rest of my support team: Craig, Karen, Kristy, the Aussie Owned and Read girls—especially Stacey, Lauren and Kim—and the BC09 crew.
Thank you also to the amazing Jennifer Anderson, my editor at Turquoise Morning Press. First you believed in my book enough to champion it, and then you helped me level up my writing. Thanks also to the rest of the team at TMP; I’m so grateful for the experience I gained from publishing this series through you.
The cover and internal design are brought to you by the aforementioned Kim from KILA Designs, who constantly amazes me with her talent and ability to translate my vague design ideas into something breathtaking.
And finally, thanks to all the readers and book bloggers who have supported the Isla’s Inheritance trilogy, both back when it was at TMP and now that it is flying solo. You’re basically the best thing ever. Don’t you forget it.
About the author
Cassandra Page is a mother, author, editor and geek. She lives in Canberra, Australia’s bush capital, with her son and two Cairn Terriers. She has a serious coffee addiction and a tattoo of a cat—despite being allergic to cats. She has loved to read since primary school, when the library was her refuge, and loves many genres—although urban fantasy is her favourite. When she’s not reading or writing, she engages in geekery, from Doctor Who to AD&D. Because who said you need to grow up?
www.cassandrapage.com
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Isla's Inheritance Page 30