After what felt like an eternity but was really just a handful of magic-laden wing beats, we were hovering well above the cove.
And then I saw it. The intricate sigil that we’d been chasing and tracing, carved from my cove. The wreath was part of the top of the walls, with the soft sand upon which I’d lain, loved, and grieved making up the wreath’s center. I’d always known the cove’s walls were very thick, but because they were also very, very tall, I’d never seen them from above. In fact, when I thought about it now, the mere existence of my cove didn’t make any sense. It was more like a rock fence than a normal cove. I realized we’d all been duped, and I didn’t know if it was Nell’s glamour, the powerful magics that must have formed the cove, or a combination of both that had made what was really a completely unnatural structure seem normal.
“Ready?” Blondie yelled in my ear, the volume carried off by all the empty space around us.
I nodded.
And with that she swept me away, tracing the sigil with the tips of her fingers or her wings, whichever was easiest. But just as before, nothing happened. At least nothing where Blondie was looking, which was beneath us.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I saw the real culprit. It’s always been about you, hasn’t it? I thought.
“Do it again!” I shouted. Before she could protest and say that it was a waste of time, I continued. “And this time, look over there!”
I was pointing at the Old Sow.
This time, as she flew her pattern, we both kept our eyes on the Atlantic. And we both saw it—piglets lit up like underwater flares in a pattern that could only be one thing.
The last glyph.
When Blondie stopped flying, they stayed lit for about ten seconds, and then they went out.
“Fuck,” she said. “It’s a double lock. Yeah, there are four glyphs, but the third unlocks the presence of the fourth. Goddamn Alfar,” she panted.
“Are you going to be okay?” I shouted, remembering what she’d said about flying. “You’ll have to make a few more circuits so I can see to unlock the last glyph!”
“I’ll fly, keeping them lit,” she replied grimly, winging me over to the water. “And you swim.” I nodded, understanding that I was the obvious choice for this mission.
And then she dropped me, clothes and all, into my ocean.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was one thing to see the pattern of lit-up piglets from above, but it was another thing to be among them, at ocean level. At that moment, I knew what it felt like to be that apocryphal squirrel in the Christmas tree: lights all around me, turning randomly on and off.
Only this Christmas tree has swirling branches that will kill you if you get too close.
Even on the outer edge of the Sow, where I was treading water, I could feel her power. I’d been told that the whirlpool had been tempestuous lately, and people hadn’t exaggerated. Normally I enjoyed my jaunts through the piglets, but even at this outer edge I had to keep my shields toward maximum to keep from getting sucked up into one like a dust bunny by a Hoover.
And I’m going to have to go way farther in, I thought, watching as a piglet placed alarmingly close to the Sow herself blazed at me briefly.
Thankfully, as I didn’t really fancy getting pulled apart by my favorite water feature, I had no idea where to start. Unfortunately, however, I also knew that Blondie’s flying a repeated pattern above the Cove would attract attention. Either she was unglamoured and being seen by everyone, including the bad guys, or she was glamouring the shit out of herself and attracting the attention of anything remotely magical in a fifteen-mile radius.
Which means time is of the essence, and I have to try something, I thought, swimming toward one of the lights. I felt a surge of power coming from it, but it ebbed before I could reach it, and I didn’t see the next light pop up till I turned around. But by then it was too late.
I waited till another piglet lit up close to me, and then I used my mojo to propel me forward. Again, I felt that pull of magic, but again I was too late.
There has to be a better way to do this, I thought. Just then the piglet next to me blazed, along with that same signature pulse of power. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.
Well, libido, said my brain to its most exasperating enemy, you’ve always favored things that pulse. Now is your time to shine.
My libido bowed to its sensei, and I closed my eyes as I put out my magical feelers.
Left, I felt, as I moved toward the power tracking over my skin. It was more than a little crazy to be swimming around the fifth largest whirlpool in the world with my eyes closed, but—similar to Peter Parker—I had to trust my selkie senses. That didn’t mitigate the buffeting I was getting, though, as I neared the source of that magical pulsing.
Right, came the next set of instructions borne to me on the ocean current, just before the buffeting became too much. This one was close. Then left… far away this time… have to motor…
The power called and I answered, zigzagging across the periphery of the Sow, weaving and darting. Sometimes I wasn’t fast enough and I’d have to start over, this time putting more mojo into my swimming. I drew from the ocean even as I did so, and the very pulses of power that I followed crept under my skin. Their force was so potent that, despite the amount of energy I was expending, my reserves were more than full.
Straight ahead… now left… now right… back, and hurry… back again… right… As I got better at the game, the pulses grew faster, more powerful, letting me know I was on the right track.
The game was also drawing me closer and closer to the Sow. Every pattern we’d traced was an intricate wreath, weaving inward into a final, central point. But while sticking your finger, or your wing, into the middle of an empty circle was easy, I’d come to realize that the circle I was currently swimming had the Old Sow herself at its epicenter.
Not so easy, that.
Meanwhile, although I was doing my favorite trick of ignoring the pertinent facts of a given situation, the ocean wasn’t making that easy. Despite the pull of the power bursts, the ocean herself was battling my every move. Currents pushed and pulled me, slowing me down considerably.
I’m not gonna make it like this, I realized, trying to think of a way around the water.
But then I thought about that underwater battle between Trill and that evil kappa, when we’d been investigating Iris’s disappearance. That night, Trill had taught me to use the ocean, rather than submit to her.
It’s like a metaphor for my life, I realized, as I stopped to tread water and think about the problem. I’m always trying to work with everything, go with everything… I don’t like to shake things up or fight or assert myself. But being submissive is a luxury I can’t afford. Not right now.
Right now, I need to take what I need, without apologies.
And with that thought, I shut my eyes again. But when I felt a pulse of power from my left, I didn’t pull myself through the water.
This time, I told the water to take me.
Guzzling up all the swirling energies around me, I expended an equally large force, demanding from the water, rather than asking it—forcing it to do my bidding.
And grudgingly, eventually, the Atlantic obeyed. This time, when I sensed a target, I moved so quickly through the water it stung. The energy I was using was tremendous, and under normal circumstances even the swirling power of the Old Sow wouldn’t have been enough to power me. But it was like the whirlpool had suddenly gone supernova. So much so that I could still keep my own reserves topped up while throwing around so much mojo.
Scything through the water, I felt the pace of the appearing symbols become more frenetic as I drew the sigil. Meanwhile, the spiral pulled me tighter in toward the Sow. Strengthening my shields beyond anything I’d ever done before, I could still feel the press of the water all around me. Indeed, “pressure” was the word of the day. There was the pressure of the situation—knowing Rockabill would be destroyed if I failed; that I’d lose everyone I loved, including my father and Anyan, who would die a dog. There were the literal pressures of all that magic forcing itself into me as I forced it back out again, plus that of the ocean and the buffeting currents of the Sow and her piglets. The part of me that only ever wanted to be normal and quiet and grounded whispered to me to give up… to let other, more powerful and more capable beings handle the situation.
For a fraction of a second I slowed. For a fraction of a second I wanted to be the old Jane again, the one who didn’t have to save the world, or at least a sizable chunk of it. Instead, I wanted that world to be normal, again.
Um, Jane? asked my virtue, which was having no truck with my little pity party. When were you ever normal?
I almost laughed, then. I thought of my life: the losses, the joys, the secrets, the lies, the love, and the connections.
My life has never been normal, I realized. And the world has never been normal. It’s never been good, or just, or clear. But that doesn’t mean Phaedra gets to destroy it.
And with that thought, I took off swimming again.
This time I didn’t let myself think or slow down. I didn’t even allow myself to feel—I made myself into a bullet, cutting through the water toward my goal. When I got to the point I had stopped last time—near enough to the Sow to feel her strength—this time, I continued.