“That said, I’m concerned about what you’re saying about yourself. I’ve always thought you were strong, Jane.”
I snorted. “Are you serious? I mean, thanks. But I definitely need to be more kick-butt. You know that.”
Trill frowned at me. “You just said yourself that I’m not strong on land. You’re already kicking my butt all over Rockabill.”
“Yeah, but you’re not strong on land. You’d trounce me in the ocean.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Trill said, her flat nose wrinkling at me teasingly again. “I just think you should concentrate more on what you are good at, and the strengths you already have, instead of worrying about changing yourself into something you’re not.”
I thought about Trill’s words for a moment. “But sometimes it’s not about you changing yourself, it’s about circumstances changing you. And trying to make the best of those changes,” I replied eventually.
“Eep. Think about what you just said for a second, Jane. You’re basically saying that you think, on some level, that you should let Jarl have control over you and your life.”
I grimaced at Trill’s harsh words. They stung, although I did appreciate that Trill had no problem pointing fingers at the Alfar. The sea folk, like Trill and my mother, were a breed apart from the land folk. Those creatures who lived in the ocean rarely came onto land and almost never had any dealings with the Alfar power structure. Which explained why the pool at the Alfar Compound was so overcharged: Very, very few water-elementals ever used it. After all, the oceans were so vast, and the Alfar weren’t interested in ruling great swaths of seaweed. So they stayed out of ocean life, for the most part. That, coupled with the fact there weren’t many water-elementals left, meant the ocean folk ruled themselves, and had developed their own code of justice, fair play, and general ethics. The Sea Code, as they called it, was complicated when it came to dealing with one another, but very simple when it came to dealing with landlubbers. When it came to the Alfar and their cronies, the Sea Code said, “Never, ever take the side of a non-water-elemental over other ocean folk.” Even a being like Trill, who really enjoyed being on land and had a lot of land friends, would, realistically, have dropped us like a hot potato in a toss-up between water politics and land politics.
The ocean was a harsh mistress, but she bred loyalty, and you had to do something really dramatic—like attack another water being with no just cause—for the sea folk to act against one another.
I’d been absolutely enchanted when I learned about the Sea Code and, even more excitedly, discovered that it applied to me, too, even though I couldn’t shape-shift. I’d been so delighted, I took the Code as carte blanche to punch Amy Nahual in the arm every time I saw her, calling out “Sea Code!” as my excuse. Up until she punched me in the stomach, hard, yelling, “Asshat!” at me in response.
“How is the rest of your life?” the kelpie asked, changing gears and letting me recover.
“Oh, good,” I said. “My dad’s still doing well. Training is great, as you know. Work is fine.” I smiled at that. “Better than fine, actually. Tracy’s pregnant.”
Trill grinned her mad, jack-o’-lantern smile. “Really?”
“Yeah. They were very crafty about it; we had no idea this was even in the works. They weren’t entirely confident, as both of them are in their late thirties, so they kept everything on the DL. But yeah, Tracy’s three months gone.”
“Who’s the father?”
I shrugged. “A donor. He’s anonymous, but they do know he’s an Irish astrophysics student. I refer to him as ‘Guinness McRocket Scientist,’ in order to be as offensive as possible.”
“Well, that is great news,” the kelpie said, longing in her voice.
The supes had trouble conceiving. They didn’t know why, but I was pretty sure it had something to do with the purgative powers of their magic. Using magic meant we aged much slower than humans: the more magic used, the longer and healthier the life. In my own experience, since I’d started really training I hadn’t had a single cold, or even a pimple. I was no doctor, but I knew there had to be a connection between that purgative force and supernatural infertility.
But whatever the cause, the effect was that there were a lot of supes running around who would do pretty much anything to have a child. Like my mother, many would turn to a human partner. For some reason, it was much easier to create a new life with a human, especially for supernatural males with human females. But even for supernatural females, they had a better chance of having a baby with a human male.
So my mother, a selkie whose home was the sea, had come onto land to meet my father. I’d been born after their union and she’d left when I was six.
“It is great,” I replied to Trill. “Tracy and Grizzie are going to be awesome parents.”
Trill nodded. “And you will be a marvelous Auntie Jane.”I smiled at that, genuinely pleased. I did plan on being the babies’ swimming instructor… and I could introduce them to the finer points of obscenitizing while I was at it. The secret to truly creative swearing, I’d been speculating, was to use a combination of established swearwords in conjunction with words you made up for yourself…
“Everyone else?” asked the kelpie, interrupting my reverie.
“Oh, fine. Iris is great. We all had dinner yesterday at the Sty.”
Trill grinned again, poking a black-nailed finger into my hip in approbation. “Everything is always so great, Jane. And yet you look so sad.”
I frowned at her. What was I supposed to do? Complain all the time?
“Never mind.” She sighed, shifting back around to lie on her back. “Anything new in the love life? Ryu making any inroads yet?”
I paused until Trill made another inquisitive noise. So I did what I did every time the subject of Ryu came up. I frowned, shrugged, and shook my head.
“I dunno, Trill. It’s complicated.”
The kelpie chuckled. “Love is a many-splendored thing,” she said, and I was terrified she’d start singing. I adored Trill, but her voice could crumble Sheetrock.
“Yes, well, I’m sure it is. But right now it’s a pain in my ass,” I said, lying back down only to groan in pleasure. Bared to the sun from my having sat up, my rock had gotten deliciously hot again.
The kelpie allowed me to maintain my silence, and we basked together for another hour. She didn’t even comment when, about ten minutes into our basking, I started practicing my water trick again. Finally, as the sun began to set, we took one last swim in the Old Sow, taunting the ancient whirlpool, who obliged us by swirling her power through both Trill and me till we practically glowed with magic.
It was power I accepted gratefully, knowing I’d need it to keep me strong.
CHAPTER THREE
A few hours later I was drying myself off with the beach towel I kept hanging in a rock cranny and shielded from the elements by a little umbrella of magic. The best part of all the mojo I’d learned pertained to my swimming. I could swim whenever I wanted now, and I could also do things like keep a towel and an extra set of clothes in the cove, under shields that kept them dry.
I had just finished pressing the water out of my hair when I heard something rustle behind me. Figuring it was Trill, I went ahead and hung up my towel before turning around.
Only to find Anyan the man standing in the little break between the cove walls that led to the forest near my house. He turned around so fast he scraped his long, crooked nose on the rough stone.
“Gods, Jane, I’m sorry. I should have shouted,” he said as I dove for my clothes, pulling on my jeans with my back to him. It took me forever to get them buttoned because my hands had started trembling the second I saw him. My heart was thumping in my chest and I prayed he couldn’t sense my nervousness. When I finally had my drawers buttoned and my shirt on, I turned toward him.
“Yeah, well. Let a lady get dressed next time,” I grumbled, trying to cover for my nervousness by acting tough.
The fact was, I couldn’t have been more thrilled to see the barghest. I tried not to stare as he came forward, his huge frame dwarfing me. But when I met Anyan’s eyes and smiled, he didn’t return it. He looked haggard, and none too pleased to see me. I straightened my spine. Magical shields weren’t the only sort of armor I had at my beck and call.
He was about to say something when he finally really looked at me. He paused. “Your hair’s all grown out.”
“It’s been months, Anyan,” I replied, trying not to sound miffed. I’d had a big chunk of hair singed off in Boston, precipitating a hairstyle a few inches shorter than I’d previously worn. But now it was even longer than it had been originally. It flowed to my waist in swirling dark waves, as I knew my mother’s had when she’d first arrived in Rockabill.
“Many?” the barghest growled, and he looked grieved.
“Three. Well, more like two,” I admitted, annoyed at how petulant my voice sounded.