While holding the Vapor host within, we spoke, using the Record to understand and learn. I discovered the Vapors are capable of speaking to every entity. I set upon myself the task of understanding.
Whoa. Okay, but how? I can’t swirl smoke.
How can a human learn it?
The book remained blank, which happens. Often, the best question isn’t the first one that comes to mind.
Is there a written record of the Vapor language?
The entry rose to the top, a diagram of directional swirls and their meanings. I scanned the pages, determined to understand. Unlike human languages, it’s not a series of letters or symbols, nor is it whole word configurations. This was, emotions? But how does that work? In the forest, the mists roiled in dozens of these shapes, stacked upon one another.
I grabbed a pen. Huh. So I want to ask for help. How do I do that?
The book stayed on the same entry. I looked at the complicated listing of emotions and blew out a sigh. Think, Patra.
In an effort at spitballing, I copied the swirl for frustration. If I need help, I’m frustrated, right? Okay, what else? Hmmm. And a little scared? I added the whirl symbol for uneasy. Now what? How about hopeful to receive support? I placed that one above the other two. Three symbols, three emotions, and nada. I’m missing something. Ballard drifted across my mind. ‘I seek chemistry and connection’. Connection.
Yes!
At the bottom of the grouping, I connected frustration to unease, and then unease to hope.
This shape resembles what I saw with Gaia. I’m onto something.
The entry faded and a clean page rose, script etching a question.
What help do you seek?
Holy crap! I did it; they understood me.
“The world,” I whispered. “Help me save the world.”
A sleepless night, but between seeing and re-igniting with Ballard and the coup of figuring out the Vapors’ language, it was worth it. Hot, fragrant BLT in hand, I paced the length of my balcony to the sound of the crashing waves, mind churning as a plan formed.
It just might work. If I got the help I needed and a shit-ton of luck. And Gaia didn’t cut me off before I stuck the landing, or Loboli decided a reset suited him better.
Yikes.
It’s not like I haven’t flung poo in the face of the gods, acting like an angry monkey cousin with a death wish. I survived the last showdown. Might as well grab another handful.
My torso contracted. Hard. Could I do this? Before, I had nothing to lose. But now, the chance to be together with Ballard tipped the heart scales.
The pain in my chest seared, so acute my knees buckled and I sat/fell across the chaise, a piece of tomato plopping onto the balcony’s concrete floor.
Was this a heart attack? To be honest, I assumed I’d go in a far more spectacular fashion. I glared at the bacon, delicious crispy edges hanging out with their mayonnaise partner in artery clogging crime.
Shut up, Patra. Healthy people in their thirties do not have coronaries. This is a panic attack, based on the fear of losing Ballard. You have a benchmark for pain. To face that now, it’s with intimate knowledge of how those knives of grief will slice your soul.
I couldn’t bear another loss. That’s the crux of it. And it sucked, because I was the Keeper. Nobody on the entire planet can do this job except me. I didn’t want to save the fucking world; I wanted love, a kid, and permission to revel in a tiny, boring, human life. Which, if I’m being honest, was the one thing I’d never have.
I stared out at the ocean, watching the crosshatch waves form in the surf, creating doorways for water magicals to cross to the human side during new or full moons.
That’s a ton of entries.
I grabbed my binoculars. The surface of the sea roiled, but I concentrated, staring into the water below the froth. The crosshatches were teeming with mer. Why so close? What are they up to now? They couldn’t enter… yet. In two days the full moon rose, and then the party started, crazy time for twelve hours. Considering their recent track record, I doubted their visit would go well.
Crud.
No need to crap on the cushion for me to see the shit. I had to talk to them before the moon unleashed them. This fledgling plan might work; with marauding mer making a mess, odds declined.
Maybe Poseidon could do me a solid and take me below without drowning my non-magical ass? It’d be nice if he kept the mer from slicing me up for chum, too. They’re, well, not my easiest magicals, and they love those lethal shell blades.
Big Red as both taxi and security? And if so, expecting… what in return? He was always ready to throw me a god bone, which I didn’t need; it complicated everything.
C’est la vie. All I could do is ask.
Chapter 8
“So you want to go below and chat with the mer?” Chelsea snorted. “Have you been dipping into the magical wine?”
My eyebrows set in a line. Behind her, Pook and Bingo knocked heads in a game of flipping anchovy crisps in the air and catching them in their mouths. Well, trying. The floor was littered with fishy detritus.
“Don’t turn those blue eyes to grey and pissy,” Chelsea made a vague hand gesture and a red bandana dropped over my head, covering my face. I raked it off and glowered.
“Chelsea, the mer intend to side with Gaia, and I bet they don’t know she’s giving me time to try. What if they use the full moon to murder a bunch of humans? That’s a problem. If unusual, gory news stories roll out right before Bike Week, Mayor Herzog won’t do his part. Each piece hinges on the next.”
Chelsea crossed her arms on the bartop and leaned toward me, eyes shading green. “Patra, I’m counting the number of magicals who believe you can stop this reset on one hand, and that’s only because they like you. Logic says this will not work.”
“Good thing I’m not relying on logic, but on the heart.”
Another snort, and Chelsea drained her glass, shoving it to me for a refill. “I’m rooting for you, but I’ve got to be honest, Poseidon should be here later and I can’t wait to watch that conversation.”
Ugh.
The door opened, and I turned, wolf signature sensors screaming, trying to fix my face. Loboli. In The Boogey. As far as I knew, for the first time.
“Mayor, what’s your pleasure?”
“Mooncraft is fine, Patra, and a chat if you aren’t busy.” His brown eyes took in Pook and Bingo’s jerky gaped-mouth crisp catching, accompanied by Chelsea’s eye roll, then dropped a toothy smile that clenched my gut.
“Perfect timing, it’s always slow this early in the evening.”
After passing the Mooncraft to him, I poured two fingers of bourbon courage for myself, and gestured to stools by the big wood framed windows. Glassless, of course. In the main bar I had plastic curtains I dropped if the weather grew inclement, but a spell covered the ones for The Boogey. The rain stayed outside, so the seating there was always pleasant.
“I’m curious whether you have a handle on your task?” Loboli settled on the stool, propping a muscled leg up on the stool’s rungs. Damn.
I sipped, stalling. What did he mean by that? Despite the whole wolf creep factor, Loboli integrated himself into the human world. Well, until he imploded, but still. The former Mayor was one of the few magicals who saw the entire picture.
“There are several moving parts,” I met his gaze, ignoring my screaming blood and earning a small grin from him. “Allies would help.”
“I’m here on behalf of the wolves and bears in Florida. After watching you, we’re invested and interested in your success. The price is the northern half of the forest.”
“A few humans own property up there.”
“We’ll be generous when buying them out.”
“Most is federal land. My agreement may be meaningless.”
“As long as you vow to work toward that end, we will not align with Gaia.” He leaned closer while my stomach headed to Miami. “Besides, we could use a persuasive ally as well, and
the most powerful human on earth, at least the one with true sight, is you.”
The bourbon warmed my throat. “Really?”
“Keeper, you alone knew the shifters felt stuck, that we needed to be unfettered to grow.”
That bit of honesty hung between us. Why was I no longer in full-blown flight mode? Does aligning face-to-face mitigate the fear? Something to ask the book. Either way, I was recording this conversation.
“Agreed. I vow to fight for protected forest space for the shifters.”
“Then we will aid in your task.” He tapped his glass to mine. I squinted, making sure no Mooncraft sloshed over his rim. I’d be asleep for three days.
Loboli drained his beer, threw his head back and howled.
“Damn, that felt good. Patra, I wish you success.”
“Much appreciated, Mayor, and please thank the wolves, bears, and any other forest shifters who choose to join. I’m grateful for the alliance.”
Another fang-filled flash of approval and he rose, marching his gorgeous jean-clad butt out of The Boogey. I turned to see Chelsea had availed herself of the view. Her eyes cut to mine, blue once more and twinkling.
I eased back behind the bar, mixed a fresh drink for her, and poured ales for the boys, which they chugged. Anchovy crisps were salty.
“You’ve made a mess.”
Pook looked at the floor, surprised. “That was Bingo. I caught mine.”
Bingo shrugged. “I catch the hot hens.”
Pook slugged him. They knocked each other around, rolling in the crumbs, as I grabbed the broom and dustpan. Bingo hopped to his feet, punched Pook a final tap on the shoulder, and swept up most of the mess.
“Thanks, Bingo.”
“We won’t take Gaia’s side either, Patra. Well, she hasn’t asked, but we’re with you.”
“Y’all are sweet. I may need eyes in the skies.”
I tapped two more fresh ales. “Pook, you’ve got a crisp in your hair.”
Pook shook his shaggy mop over the bar and popped the crisp into his maw.
“You two are disgusting,” Chelsea laughed.
The door swung open again, and by the weight of the footsteps, I started mixing Poseidon’s favorite. He settled onto his preferred stool, Clep sliding into the one next to him. I passed Poseidon his drink. Pensive again. Crap.
My gaze slid to Asclepius. “Twelfth tide?” Clep could handle his alchemy; a twelfth tide was not a drink for amateurs.
Dark eyes gleaming, he nodded. Clep, the god of healing, was a gorgeous mountain with velvet skin the color of dark chocolate, and for reasons unknown, he liked me. I completed the cocktail’s twelve layers, each alternating with a clockwise or counterclockwise spin, and pushed it across, lost in memory. The October night on the beach, the winds swirled in an identical pattern. Funny how these little interconnections appear.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say funny,” Clep laughed. “More akin to a signal or signpost.”
“As in seeing the complete picture?”
Sculpted full lips curved and a green feeler popped out of his palm, wrapping around my wrist, a glowing sensation that warmed my nethers.
“In ways. In other messages, you miss opportunities.”
For what, birthing a demigod and struggling as a single mom for the rest of my bound to be short lifetime? No thanks.
The vine shaped tentacle unwrapped, and Clep laughed, raising his drink. Poseidon grunted, staring out at the sea. It’s super weird knowing most of the bar listened in on that entire mental conversation. But that’s gods. Sheesh.
Lowering my voice, I leaned toward Poseidon. “Could we chat?”
“I’m aware of what you wish to attempt, Keeper. It is pointless.”
“Please give me a chance to save humans from unnecessary violence. Allowing needless death by magic is not in my blood.”
“I know full well what is in your blood, Cleopatra. Better than you do.”
Stubborn eyes bored into his, and he shrugged. We faded and landed on the sand below the pier.
“Speak your piece, Keeper.”
“Gaia agreed to let me try, and to hold off on the reset. With Loboli’s help, I persuaded the human Mayor to follow a course of action, and Loboli told me today the forest shifters will not join Gaia. Momentum is with me, Poseidon. I doubt Gaia shared that with the mer.” I dropped to my knees, penitent. “Please, I’m entreating you, let me get in front of this.”
“What makes you think they care?”
“I need to learn what drove the murders, straight from the source. I want to listen to the mer’s leaders and tell them what I’m doing. If inaction is why they’re pissed, they deserve to hear, from me, what’s being done.”
“Done?”
“Fine. Tried.”
To my surprise, he burst out laughing, gripping my shoulder with a mojo blast as he pulled me to my feet. “Keeper, I’ll escort you and protect you. But, don’t hold your breath.”
Wait, literally?
He turned, walking into the sea, his big mitt gripping the back of my neck and drawing me into the breakers. A gold thread shot from his palm and folded around my wrist. I stared, transfixed, as my skin faded to crystal, then water, as we both collapsed into the ocean, one with the boundless synergy covering most of the planet.
I’m fluid yet corporeal. This ranks near the top of the weirdest things I’ve experienced, which is saying a hell of a lot.
Around me, mer swam in graceful power. I offered no body to attack, and several stared with a mixture of expressions. Disdain, curiosity, and ambivalence predominated. A few swiped their blades in our direction as we flowed amongst them. Within a circular grouping of rocks, we swirled in a slow, undulating pivot as mer congregated.
My arm burned, and I glanced where my forearm should be as gold letters etched.
Begin.
But how? Can I talk? Nothing ventured, right?
“Mer, I greet you. I am the Keeper.”
Nods surrounded. Wow, super cool.
“I come with a message, and a desire to learn.”
Several mer edged closer. My guess is that these are the leaders, but what the hell do I know?
“I wish to understand the struggle that led to the human deaths.” I kept my tone neutral.
Glances exchanged and one mer, a gigantic male, spoke.
“I am Qiton. The seas are sick with the human’s garbage. Our creatures die, an unending and unnecessary loss. The mer believe humans refuse to care what happens within the parts of the Earth they don’t occupy.”
“Qiton, your point is valid. Many do not. Others show great concern and devote their life’s energies to bettering the seas.”
Glances exchanged again. “We have seen the efforts to study our home, and contraptions designed to pull plastic from the sea. But what dirt creatures cannot comprehend is the refuse added to our oceans dwarfs any efforts to clean. Humans are a plague.”
“We agree that the time for change is now, Qiton. Our differences are in the methods. Gaia spoke with me,” heads rose, listening, “and she will delay a planet reset to allow an attempt to coalesce the Triune. I came today to ask for your specific concerns and to plead for your help.”
The silence stretched.
“I did not know Gaia talked to you,” Qiton’s words dragged forth. “What help do you believe you deserve?”
Ouch.
Words etched on my water arm.
Be careful.
“I deserve nothing, that is not my role. As Keeper, I record the worlds, and accept my task to unify them.”
Qiton cocked his head. “What support do you seek from the mer?”
“The day after the full, I’ve scheduled a huge cleanup effort, by humans, along the shores by The Boogey. I’m asking you, alongside Poseidon, to help push the plastic toward the shore. The sheer volume of the trash helps me teach humanity and forces them to see.”
Backs to me, a discussion raged. Gold words tingled the water around my flowing body.
That will cost you.
His watery smirk left little to the imagination. Crap.
Qiton spun from the group to face me. “What more do you expect, Keeper?”
Jeez, so confrontational.
“No expectations, but a request.”
“Which is?”
“If the mer planned additional lessons for the full, I ask that you refrain.”
Qiton’s eyes narrowed, and he turned back to the mer. The passionate conversation, punctuated with waving shell blades and thrashing tails, took awhile. I waited, floating, offering a brief prayer of sorts. Beside me, the water bubbled. Poseidon snorting, I supposed.
Consensus reached, Qiton, with a powerful flick of his tail, darted next to me. The smooth planes of his face floated inches from my watery visage.
“You are not what we expected, Keeper. We agree to not kill any humans at the full, and we will help Poseidon with your cleanup efforts. But our allegiance to Gaia won’t change.”
“I respect that, and you. Thank you for listening, and for supporting the opportunity to alter outcomes.”
Incrementally softened expressions flowed across the mer’s faces. Perhaps they weren’t united in the aggression toward humans? If so, the door of alternative options cracked open. A decent outcome, I’d take it.
Still revolving, I bowed to the assemblage, and Poseidon pulled us up and away from the stone circle. Two mer swam alongside. Escorts? Or something else? It appeared they spoke to Poseidon, but it was hard to tell. We entered the breakers, and they spun, immense tails leaving trails of bubbles.
Bodies solidifying with a slurpy swish, we rose from the surf and moved to the shore. As my feet hit the beach, I pancaked, face planted in the sand by the overwhelming pull of gravity.
What in Hades?
“The human body isn’t designed to dwell in the water. In order to protect you from the sea’s pressure, I changed you.”
Gold threads wrapped around my head, chest, arms, and legs, and the sense of lightness returned. Hands grinding into the wet, packed sand, I pushed up, got my feet under me and stood, blowing an inelegant display of snot, grit, and spit from my nose and mouth.
Salt Shaken Page 5
