Tempest’s Legacy (3 page)

T
he next day found me basking on my favorite flat rock, soaking up the rays of a late-afternoon sun draped in plump repose across the horizon.

It was only in the past month that I’d really mastered my invisibility glamour and could swim during the day. Now that I could be in my ocean at any time without fear of discovery, I’d found that there was no heaven so pleasurable as lying on a warm rock jutting up from the shallows, the sea foam frothing at arm’s reach.

That said, I may have looked peaceful—but I was secretly working. Today was my official “day off,” both from my job and from my magical training. But after going out the night before I wasn’t going to waste another big chunk of time. So while I lay, outwardly quiescent, I practiced manifesting little bursts of power that scooped and released small handfuls of water near my head. It took a lot of control and a very dense power weave to hold fluid, so the exercise was actually very demanding.

“You’re supposed to be
resting
, Jane,” came an oil-slick voice from somewhere near my feet. I raised my head petulantly, frowning toward my unwanted visitor. It was my kelpie friend Trill. Kelpies were two-formed, like selkies, only instead of turning into a seal like my mom had, Trill turned into a weird little underwater pony. She was currently in her humanoid form, all the better to bask with me.

“I
am
resting,” I said. “I’m horizontal, ain’t I?”

“From what I’ve heard, you do a lot of things horizontally that aren’t resting.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Move over, Ricky Gervais… here comes Kelpie Trill!”

Trill emitted a strange grating sound it had taken me forever to realize was actually her version of a girlish giggle.

“Everything ‘pony’ is better. Especially pony-style.”

I laid my head back down, squeezing my eyes shut. “Ohmigod, are you talking about pony sex? ’Cause if you are, I think you may have ruined me for life.”

Just thinking about two little kelpies going at it made me shudder.

Trill grated her harsh giggle at me again, then I heard her haul herself out of the water. I meeped my protest when she dripped cold droplets over my sun-warmed flesh. The kelpie’s pearl-gray skin gleamed dully in the sunlight, her black-nailed hands—cold from the sea—prodding me like frozen brands to move over and make room. For a moment, too comfortable to budge, I refused. Until she threatened to wring her green seaweed hair out on my belly and I finally made way so Trill could share my rock.

We lay in companionable silence, drowsing together for at least a half hour. But I knew such peace couldn’t last, and soon enough Trill’s slippery voice eeled its way through my respite.

“How are you feeling this week?”

From the time I’d met Trill, she’d been my friend and my swimming buddy. After everything that had happened in Boston, however, she’d also taken it upon herself to be my therapist.

I wish I could say I didn’t need her help, but I knew better.

If I was honest, after Boston I’d been pretty fucked up. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that I was really lucky. Unlike the two women we’d been searching for, Edie and Felicia, I was alive. I didn’t bear a single physical scar from the beating Graeme, the rapist incubus, had dealt me. I looked like the exact same Jane True who’d gone off for a romantic Valentine’s Day weekend with her boyfriend.

But I wasn’t that Jane True, not anymore.

There were moments, especially when I was with my friends or when I was training, that I remembered how to feel without feeling guilty. But when alone, my thoughts could be heavy.

I’d always known life wasn’t fair. Losing my mom and Jason had taught me early that bad things happened to decent people not because they deserved it, but because life was arbitrary and death capricious. But I hadn’t thought of the universe as
cruel
until last February. Seeing the look in Graeme’s eyes as he bit through my lip, the lack of emotion on Phaedra’s face as she’d hacked off Conleth’s head, and Conleth’s own expression as he’d pleaded with me for help just before he died… All these
things had done a number on me. I hadn’t been able to help anyone, not even myself, and certainly not the two women who’d died at Graeme’s hands because we weren’t smart or fast enough to save them.

And then all the various players—except the dead, of course—had just gone back to their normal lives. Ryu had returned to Boston, I’d returned to Rockabill, and Phaedra and her lot had returned to their Compound. Phaedra was Alfar, and her lies about Conleth being responsible for all the murders—both in Boston and in the Borderland city of Chicago—had been believed. Ryu hadn’t even attempted to tell the truth, knowing that Alfar would side with Alfar; that the king and queen would never turn against Jarl and his crony Phaedra.

And so my understanding of a capricious universe had transformed itself into something darker, more sinister. Life wasn’t just unfair… it was cruel. The weak
would
fall to the strong, and no one—no higher power—stood in judgment.

And I’d finally realized that I was one of the weak.

It’s not like I’d ever been powerful. As a human I was small and physically vulnerable. I’d never been a fighter, not in the physical sense. Therefore, learning of my selkie blood had meant I’d gained strengths I’d never dreamed of having. But I’d also been thrown into a world that had no laws, no conscience. Power was all that was understood. I was learning, gradually, that I had far more elemental force at my disposal than I could easily conceive of, but what did having power matter when I was afraid to use it?

In other words, I had been raised a law-abiding member of human society, used to thinking in terms of social contracts, the greater good, and “if it harm none.” All of
which were values that made me weak in a supernatural society that took pleasure indulging in lashings of the old ultraviolence.

So now I’m stuck talking about my “feelings,”
I thought.
As if they ever change…

As if on cue, Trill turned on her side to face me. “How are you feeling this week?” she repeated.

I nearly sighed, but stopped myself. Time to put on my game face.

“I’m good, actually. This week was really good. Quiet, and… normal. I’m superexcited about Grizzie and Tracy. And we got some books in that I’ve been excited about…”

Trill didn’t respond. She just listened, impassively, as I babbled nervously.

“… Um, and I feel good about what I learned this week, in training. I feel like I’m getting stronger, which is awesome.”

“Stronger?”

“Yeah, stronger. No offense, but it felt good when I won our duel. I felt… badass.”

Trill’s flat nose wrinkled and her mouth gaped in her kelpie version of a grin. “You did win, certainly. But soon we’ll take your training to the water, and you’ll
really
see what I can do.”

“Yea!” I squeaked, like a little kid just told she got to go to the circus. I really wanted to start training in the water. But because my greatest threats were coming from the land, they wanted me strong there first.

“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.