"Why do you think I'm not giving you interesting, dangerous, actual FPU stuff?"
I know her well enough to know she's mocking me. She knows. I know. Teeth still digging into the sides of my tongue, keeping it secure and out of trouble, I take a beat. I try to cool my usual inclination toward impulse.
"Say what you want to say, Fitz. I'm a busy woman and don't have time to coddle you."
Well, if she’s asking for honesty, then I don't have a choice. That was all but a direct order, right?
"I believe the cases assigned to me don't utilize all of my skills as an agent."
Politically correct enough to make even my father proud. Ha.
Sabrina doesn't say anything. She watches me. The silence stretches on painfully for a solid three seconds.
"I know it's not necessarily professional to bring this to your attention. I just think that with different kinds of cases, I would feel more challenged. I would feel like a better asset for the Federal Paranormal Unit."
I'm laying it on thick. Sabrina knows it too. A small smile curves her lips.
"Your father is a very powerful man, Yarrow."
Her words activate anger inside me. I knew it.
"Apparently," I shoot back.
Sabrina shrugs and leans onto the side of her desk. The stance is casual and relaxed. Her way of putting me at ease.
"He's made some demands about your career." Sabrina keeps her eyes on my face, no doubt to gauge my reaction.
"What kind of demands?"
It's one thing to suspect your father is interfering with your career. It's another thing entirely to find out that he's crushing it.
"That's between you and him, I suppose." She walks to her desk and rummages through the neat piles of files. She holds two case files, one in each hand. With a sharp inhale, she hands me one. "Don’t fuck this up, kid."
I can barely contain my glee. I shift on the balls of my feet and take the file. As I read through the case notes, my excitement dies. Crashes and burns on a pyre of bleakness.
What the fuck?
I skim through the case file again, hoping I've missed something in my hurry. Nope.
This is absolute bullshit.
"Before you say what you're going to say, you need to hear me very clearly."
I sew my mouth shut, swallowing my disappointment.
"I'm willing to go against your father's...request. If you want to take on meatier cases, I'm going to assign some to you. You're a good agent, Fitz. You have good instincts and people respond well to you."
"So what's with this?" I gesture to the file in my hand.
"You've yet to investigate a murder. This is a good starting point."
"It's not a murder. It's clearly an accidental drowning."
"Oh?" Sabrina looks amused. Fuck. I read through the notes. Again.
"Am I missing something?" I ask, barely managing to keep the annoyance out of my tone. I can't give lip to Sabrina Newday and live to tell the tale.
"How do we know it isn't an accidental drowning?" she asks.
With a deep sigh of pure irritation, I read the file. For the fourth fucking time.
Oh.
Oops. Missed that detail.
"The victim was wrapped in seaweed."
Sabrina nods and imitates the sound of a bell.
"It could be nothing," I counter but immediately think better of it, so I add, "or any number of water creatures could be responsible."
"The call came in as a murder. It needs to be checked out."
"Is there anything else I should know?"
"This was pinged because of the mention of murder on a 9-1-1 call and because seaweed was found at the scene."
"Okay. I'll check it out. Who's going with me?"
The boss lady shakes her head.
"Like I said, you're a good agent, but you're too spontaneous. You're like skirting the line of being a rogue and it makes the other agents nervous. I'm sending you alone. I want you to learn to trust your instincts but also let reason guide your actions. Do you understand me?"
No.
"Yes, of course."
Her eyes narrow at me.
"If you need an extra set of hands, go to the local police force. Call me if it's absolutely necessary."
I head to the door.
"Learn from this, Fitz."
I nod as I close her office door behind me.
Somehow, this case is a test. I just don't see how it can be. It’s clearly open and shut. Actually, it's not even a case. It's an accidental drowning.
I mean, I don't know that. Not for sure. But the odds of this being a paranormal murder are slim to none. One of the first stats we learn is that 97.5 percent of water deaths are accidental drownings.
"So?" Larsen asks, spinning in his chair. "What did our magnanimous leader want?"
Ugh. Larsen's crush on Sabrina is nothing but cringe-worthy.
Not because she is unattractive or anything. She's our superior. And she turns into the meanest looking sea serpent ever reported in the history of the world. This definitely adds to her reputation in the office.
"I've been assigned a drowning."
Larsen groans and claps a hand on my back in silent support.
"Bummer. Weren't able to get better assignments?"
I explain my strange conversation with Sabrina.
"Odd. But she works in mysterious ways." His eyes glaze over with unrequited desire.
"You're messed up, man," I repeat to him for the millionth time.
"I may have a more distinguished palate when it comes to the ladies. That doesn't make me weird."
"Whatever you say."
I turn my attention to the case file. I scan it again, trying to keep an open mind. I'm in the middle of making all the necessary arrangements for this investigation when a chill falls over the bullpen. I swear to the Goddess, I know he's entered the room before I even spot him.
My father.
An FPU agent, and a damn good one, Wallie Yarrow isn't a bad guy. And he definitely wasn't a bad father, at least not while I was growing up. Sure, I disappointed him from the day I was born, having not inherited his super masculine merman genes. But he accepted me and all my foibles well enough. That was, until I joined the FPU. Now his unconventional offspring is running around on his turf with the potential to damage his reputation.I watch him swagger to my desk, barely containing the look of triumph on his face. I take a few quick breathes, reminding myself that I have to remain professional. Even if he talks to me like I'm three years old.
He casually leans against my desk, hands in his pockets. I know how this conversation will go before he even opens his mouth.
"I heard you were assigned a murder."
Yup. I was right.
The great Wallie Yarrow never misses a trick. It doesn't matter that we aren't technically in the same department of the FPU. He always manages to know what assignment I've been given. This fuels my theory that he somehow dictates which assignments I get.
"I did," I reply, unable to stop myself from crossing my arms. What's more, he knows it's not really a murder investigation. I'd bet my left nut that he's already read over the case.
"This is a big responsibility, Fitzroy."
I can't help the cringe. I hate when he uses my full name. He only does it at work when he is adding a layer of threat to his words.
"I'm well aware that solving a murder is a big task. I've been assigned because I'm the best agent for this case."
He pulls a face, and immediately, my confidence is chased away. Oh yeah. He's read through the case, all right.
"I'm sure, son." Dad sighs and looks around the room, his eyes stopping for a few seconds on some of my colleagues. I don't miss the fact that they are senior agents who are respected throughout the department. I get what he's silently saying. He doesn’t believe I’m the best choice for this case. Ouch.
That doesn’t mean I have to stand here and take it. He's managed to make me feel even worse about this
damned case.
"I'm heading out right now," I say to end the uncomfortable conversation. "If there was something else?"
"Be safe, kid."
It’s one thing for your boss to call you kid. It’s another to have your father say it in front of your peers.
"I'm always safe, Dad."
He gives me a curt nod and leaves, taking the cold air with him.
"He's as pleasant as always," Larsen comments. The notorious sweet tooth pops a candy into his mouth and throws the wrapper with effortless grace.
"Sure is."
"You should’ve told him that you're being sent alone to investigate. Perhaps that would have shut him up."
"Not worth it. He would have a jab ready for that."
"Hm. Daddy Yarrow sure seems to be quick with the barbs."
Though he was never completely warm toward me when I was growing up, it’s gotten worse these past few years. I've tried to talk to my mother about it. She usually shakes her head and says that my father is a complicated man.
Right.
Doesn't seem complicated to me.
I haven't even had time to prove myself yet, but he's sure I'll disgrace him. He's one of the few men in the world who had to carry the burden of having a naiad son.
3
-Fitz-
The lake is a thing of pure beauty. It stretches as far as the eye can see and widens to the base of a mountain chain. The enormity of the water and mountains make me feel small yet connected to something so much bigger than me. My naiad instincts call me to the water.
Really, I'm powerless against it. It’s in my naiad genes to want to be in water, to protect it, to frolic in it. Male naiads tend to be an unruly bunch. Good thing we’re a rarity.
I've been away from water too long and my skin itches for a quick dip. My legs carry me to the water's edge.
The peaceful sound of the waves kissing the dock is inviting. I scan the area quickly. It's completely deserted. Probably because it's early afternoon on a weekday. This is cottage country. Most people who own land out here are at work, all the way in town.
Going against my training, I decide my first task is to check out the water.
I can't help it. The water's siren song is irresistible. Besides, I feel more comfortable in the water. It makes sense to play to my strengths to see if there are any paranormal creatures living in the lake.
I smile to myself, amused that I feel the need to justify my actions in my own damn head. No one is around to see or judge how I begin this investigation for FPU.
I take care to strip from my clothes by a few rocks. Modesty is important when you're an agent, I guess. You wouldn't want to get caught with your pants down - literally - while doing a perimeter check.
The wet sand feels like a dream against my feet. I squish my toes in it as I make my way into the crisp lake water.
Once I'm waist deep, I drop down, submerging my entire body. Finally, I shift into my naiad form. I feel the transition in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my soul, right in my heart. The cool liquid surrounds me like a balm. The sounds of the water's inhabitants fill my ears. It takes a few seconds to acclimate to it. Though my shape stays humanoid, my skin becomes nearly translucent, the water dictating the pigmentation of my limbs and hair.
I revel in the feel of the water before getting to work. Utilizing all of my naiad speed, I swim the perimeter of the lake, making a stop at the deepest point. I dive into its depths. The place is hopping with marine wildlife. Though there's no sign of any paranormal activity.
Surprise, surprise.
I swim the perimeter a second time. You know, just to be sure, but there really is nothing in here.
That doesn't mean a water shifter hasn't been around. I'll have to do leg work on land to garner information on that front.
Reluctantly, I lazily paddle toward the shore. The refreshing water feels like silk moving against my skin. It's just the right temperature. I'm fairly certain I've blissed out and that the day can't get any better. I'd love to stay in, treading water for hours.
Then I see her.
My hands stop mid-motion, having forgotten how to swim.
The woman is a vision.
She belongs in a painting. Something made hundreds of years ago in a land of ancient trees and magical springs. She takes my breath away. I have to remember to fill my lungs as I swim to the shore.
I can't take my eyes off her as I keep swimming, keeping my pace slow and steady. I'm far enough that I hope she doesn't feel my eyes memorizing her face. Her lustrous auburn hair flits in the wind, almost like an invitation.
I decide to duck underwater to avoid being seen in my naiad form. I scurry from the water, keeping out of her line of sight. Thankfully, my pile of clothes is offset from her cabin's dock.
I grab my dress shirt and pants and slide them on with ease. At this moment, I'm grateful that FPU has created suits that absorb water. I won't have to walk around all clammy and damp. The material used to make our clothing absorbs all moisture, leaving me bone dry.
The only sign that I've been in the water is my hair. The usual black locks look impossibly darker. I run my hands through them, shaking out the water as best as I can.
From my vantage point, I see the beautiful lady walk into cabin 9. I swear under my breath.
Of course, the gorgeous stranger would turn out to be the woman I have to question.
This is where my naiad self will get me into trouble. My kind is quick to fall in love and it usually puts us in unusual predicaments.
Really, a naiad is just a fancy way of saying water nymph. As a breed, generally, we tend to be mischievous and flighty. Not the right temperament to be an FPU agent.
Especially not when we find a witness attractive.
Thankfully, this will turn out to be nothing. I may actually be able to court my alluring lady of the lake.
With a few more shakes of my hair, I walk to the cabin's front entrance. I rap on the door in three quick bursts.
"Who's there?" a voice rings out from inside.
Damn. She sounds nervous. Can't say I blame her. I'm sure it must be nerve-racking to be vacationing in the same place where she found a body.
"I'm Agent Fitzroy Yarrow." I try to keep my voice light and friendly. "I need to speak with you about yesterday's incident."
I hear shuffling behind the door. Moments pass and the door remains closed.
"Hello?" I call out.
"Just a minute..."
The sound of approaching footsteps make me rearrange my tie. I'm about to see her up close. I won't say I shiver with anticipation, even if it's the truth.
The door swings open.
Yup.
I'm breathless.
My mouth goes dry, but metaphorically, I'm slobbering. If she was stunning from afar, she is pure temptation up close. The auburn of her hair is a sharp contrast to the creamy color of her skin. Freckles decorate her cheekbones and nose. The green of her eyes resembles a rich alpine forest. Her hourglass figure, clothed in a short, flowing summer dress ignites a million fantasies.
She blinks long eyelashes at me. It shouldn't be so alluring, but it is.
"Sorry," she stammers, "I was indecent."
Her voice does nothing to break the spell she has cast over me. In fact, the sweet accented sound has me clearing my throat. Especially her mention of being indecent.
Knowing she was dressed when I saw her by the lake, I wonder what she could possibly mean. Probably doing a bit of tidying in the cabin before opening the door.
"Excuse me," I try to keep some level of composure and professionalism, "are you..." I look down at my notepad and read through the notes. "Sorcha Ross?"
"Yes, that's me."
Her voice and its lilting accent nearly knock me over. I've got a new mission. Get this woman to talk. About anything.
"Can I bother you really quickly? I have some questions about..." I clear my throat uncomfortably.
"About the dead man?"
She's trying hard to be deadpan, but I see strong emotions swimming in her big green eyes. Her white teeth bite into her full, pink lower lip.
"Yes, that's right. Is now a good time?"
"If I say no, you'll just have to come back later. Let's get this over with." The musical intonation of her voice is fascinating.
"You're from Scotland?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"I am. I'm here on holiday. I'm sure you've seen all of your colleagues’ notes about that day."
I clear my throat. This new tick is annoying, but I have to do something to keep myself in check.
"I did, yes. However, I'd like to go over the events once again. I'm from a different agency. We just need to make sure the local PD has come to the right conclusion."
"Another department?" her voice crackles and she frowns.
"Yeah. The Feds." I take out my standard-issue badge and flash it quickly. Too fast for her to notice that there is only a unit number, no agency name. We can’t have the humans finding us out, after all.
She watches my movements carefully.
"Of course." She gestures for me to follow her into the cabin.
I scan the main room, noting that nothing seems out of place. Good for her. When I'm on holiday, I can't be bothered to put anything away. Though, that is also true of my own apartment on a regular basis. Sorcha sits at the kitchen table and I follow suit.
"I'm going to ask you some questions. Most will be similar to the ones you've already answered. I just need to ask them for my superiors. I hope you understand."
She nods and looks at me expectantly.
"Did you know the victim? Stanley Campbell?"
Sorcha smooths her hair, paying particular attention to the left side of her head. As her hair moves, the scents of primrose and vanilla envelop me. They elicit all kinds of reactions in my body.
Concentrate, Fitz.
"No, I didn't... As I said, I'm not from here."
"Right." I look down at the scarce notes I have. "It must have put a damper on your holiday, finding a body like that."
She blinks up at me, tears lining her eyes.
"It was upsetting."
Man, it is hard to see such a beautiful woman be so sad. I summon every ounce of emotional strength from deep within myself to question her.
The Kelpie's Redemption Page 2