“Indeed,” Beau said, “winter will be upon us soon, and we do enjoy these bracing evenings.”
“Uh, yeah, right,” Nick stammered. “Did you see anything run by here?”
As Duke trotted up and sat down beside his leg, Beau said, with a completely straight face, “We did not. Was there something in particular for which you were searching?”
“Uh, it’s hard to explain,” Nick stammered. “Thanks anyway. Good night.” With that, he started back down the sidewalk, swinging his head from side to side as he went.
Patting Tori on the hand, Beau said, “A most successful evening, wouldn’t you say, Miss Tori?”
“No, I would not say,” Tori replied crossly. “And guess what? I am not going to be the one to give Jinksy this news. No way, no how.”
Paling at her words, Beau said, “Now that is rather a hard line to take, Miss Tori.”
“Don’t. You. Even,” Tori said. “I swear to God you’re acting like you want to play in the Dead Majors.”
When Beau didn’t reply, she stopped walking to gape at him openly. “You do!” she accused him. “You want to play ball with them!”
“Well,” he hedged, “it is rather the chance of a lifetime.”
“You know what, Beau?” Tori said. “You better thank your lucky stars you’re already dead, because when Jinksy hears about this, she’s gonna be mad enough to kill you all over again.”
Lucas and I stood on the shore of the man-made lake in the upper valley. Dark clouds filled the mountain passes to the north, and the sharp breeze made the idea of going into the water unthinkable.
So far, my time in the Valley with Lucas had actually been fun. This was the second time he’d given me a mental break from the pressure of the Chesterfield situation, and I admit, I was grateful.
First, Lucas had taken me to the Registry office, which is located at the bottom of the same street that houses the Dirty Claw. Since the entire building was filled with large and small werecats, I immediately understood why the mildly disreputable bar is filled with boozy, furry patrons at all hours of the day and night.
A Siamese secretary showed us into Furl’s office, which was a study in spontaneous organization and shredded cardboard.
“Sorry,” Furl said, batting a pile of the material off of one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I destroy cardboard when I need to think.”
Taking in the thick coating on the floor and in the corners, I said, “You must have a lot to think about.”
Furl is a Scottish Fold in his small form. When he laughs, his eyes crinkle closed, and his whiskers twitch. “You sound like my brothers,” he said. “But Merle does the same thing with newspapers and Earl has a thing for those twisty ties that come off bread sacks. What can I do for you folks today?”
Lucas reached into the breast pocket of his duster and took out a document, which he laid flat in front of Furl. As the werecat scanned the contents, I couldn’t help but notice the way the fur started to stand up on his neck.
“Why does the DGI need files on Creavit shapeshifters?” he asked. “That’s a chapter of our history we put to bed a long time ago.”
Oh, great. Another wrinkle on the whole, “made” magic thing. The Fae world really needed someone to step up and write Creavit Magic for Dummies.
“Hold on,” I said. “I don’t mean to be out of order here, but what do you mean Creavit shapeshifters?”
Furl’s tail flicked back and forth. It was the first time I’d ever seen him display anything that might be taken as annoyance. “Some humans who contracted for their powers chose to become shapeshifters,” he said, “mainly werewolves. The last one was killed in the 17th century. That is, unless the DGI has information they’re not sharing with the registry.”
Lucas held his hands up placatingly. “Calm down, Furl,” he said. “We don’t have any evidence that any of these beasties are still roaming around, but I am interested in Creavit werewolf activity in the south of England around 1580.”
1580? That was the year Adeline Shevington was killed. I started to say something, but an almost imperceptible shake of the head from Lucas stopped me.
Clearly relieved, Furl said, “Whew! That long ago? Don’t scare me like that, buddy. It’ll take awhile to dig up the data, but I think I can find what you need. I’ll shoot you an email when I get it together. You two have time to run up to the Dirty Claw with me? The special of the day is nip nachos.”
“No can do,” Lucas said. “We have to make a trip to Qynn.”
Furl shuddered. “Water,” he said, “not my favorite thing. Stay dry, you two.”
Now that we were standing on the shore of the sea, I recalled those words to Lucas. “Furl warned us not to get wet,” I said, “but I don’t see how we’re going to manage that. I thought you’d have a submarine or something waiting for us.”
“Ha!” Lucas scoffed, holding out his hand. “Subs are for amateurs. Be prepared to be dazzled, fair lady.”
“What are you up to?” I asked suspiciously.
“Like I said, it’s a surprise. Take my hand, and you’ll find out. You do trust me, right?”
What was I supposed to say to that? I took his hand, instantly feeling warm power envelop my body. The weight of the cold air disappeared from my skin, and I could no longer feel the wind.
“You can swim, right?” Lucas asked, leading me into the water.
“Yes,” I gulped, tightening my grip on his hand as the bottom fell away under my feet.
“Don’t be scared,” he said, “as long as you’re holding my hand, you’ll be able to breathe just fine. You won’t even get wet. You ready?”
This time all I managed was a nod, but when he went under, I went with him, instinctively closing my eyes. After a few seconds, Lucas said, “Jinx, you’re not going to see much like that.”
Cautiously opening first one lid and then the other, I saw Lucas floating in front of me in a soft halo of aquamarine light. The waterproof aura flowed down his arm and over our clasped hands to surround me as well.
“Wow!” I said, my voice echoing slightly in my ears. “This is amazing.”
“No,” Lucas said, pointing with his free hand. “That is amazing.”
There, lying on the bottom of the lake, sat a massive domed city. The superstructure itself was complete, but inside I could make out multiple construction projects in progress. On the outer edge of the city, teams of what I thought were horses pulled materials toward domed entrances. Then I looked closer. The “horses” had flippers and long serpentine tails.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Huh?” Lucas said. “Oh. The Kelpies? They’re water horses. And you see those seals there? Those are Selkies. Once they’re out of the water, they take human form. You’re not in Kansas anymore, kiddo.”
Half expecting to see some deep sea version of the Lollipop Guild show up, I said, “So, are we off to see a wizard?”
“Nope,” Lucas said, kicking forward and propelling us into a gentle dive, “a turtle.”
22
When Lucas said “turtle,” my mind went to a hard-shelled creature roughly the size of a breakfast plate. Instead, I was introduced to a massive leatherback whose bulk rivaled a VW Beetle — one with grayish-black paint and rows of pale spots.
“He rarely gets out of the water,” Lucas whispered as we approached the pond where Lute serenely floated listening to progress reports from his engineers. “The old boy probably tops 1,500 lbs. and he really doesn’t have feet, just flippers. There are ponds and canals constructed throughout the city for his convenience.”
Keeping my voice low as well, I said, “Honestly, I thought the whole city would be underwater.”
“Portions of it are,” he explained, “and from what I understand, multiple chambers can be flooded and drained according to need. Many of the merfolk breathe in both water and air.”
I started to answer when a sonorous voice boomed out, “Lucas! Come talk to an old reptile, and bring that pretty woman wi
th you.”
Lute had spotted our approach. His beaked face broke into what I took to be a smile because the tiny, elliptical eyes squinting at us twinkled with good humor.
We stepped into a dry area that jutted into the pond. The space was lined with seats facing toward the water and reminded me of a half-submerged conference table. When we sat down, we were on eye level with the massive sea creature
“Lute,” Lucas said, “allow me to introduce Jinx Hamilton. Jinx, this is Lute, the leader of the merfolk settlement.”
The turtle raised one thick flipper, which I accepted with a slight shake. “Hi,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Lute replied. “Barnaby has spoken of you. He tells me you’re quite something, young lady. What are you doing hanging around a scoundrel like Lucas?”
The turtle’s easy banter seemed to be inviting me to play along, so I did. “I’ve been wondering that very thing myself,” I said, throwing a teasing glance toward Lucas. “Is he as bad as I think he is?”
Lute shook his head, raising little ripples on the surface of the pond. “Worse,” he said regretfully, “much worse. There are mermaids in this city who start crying the instant he walks in a room.”
I think Lucas would have jumped between us if it hadn’t meant leaping into the water. “Well, okay then!” he said. “We don’t want to keep you, Lute. I know you have a lot to do.”
The turtle laughed so hard water sloshed over the edge of the pond. “You know what they say, Lucas, guilty shark, bites first.” Then, gliding closer to me, the old turtle said, “Truth be told, the boy runs backward from the ladies. I’m delighted to see him in your company. Always running around, this one, jumping from one portal to the next, taking every exotic assignment. Settle him down a bit, will you? Everybody needs to just float in calm water sometimes.”
I mentally filed that last bit away as possibly some of the best life advice I’d ever received. Before I could respond, a man’s voice spoke from behind us. “A useless endeavor. My nephew has made it his life’s purpose to swim against the tide.”
Lucas turned toward the newcomer, sweeping off his hat and actually going down on one knee and bowing his head. “Uncle Owain,” he said, “fare thee well?”
“I do, nephew” the man replied. “And how fare thee?”
Looking past Lucas, I saw a tall, reed-slender man dressed in leather clothing that would have looked more at home in Sherwood Forest than an underwater city. In fact, Owain had a total Robin Hood thing going, right down to the pointy beard shot through with silver.
“I am well,” Lucas said, rising. “Allow me to present the Quercus de Pythonissam, Jinx Hamilton.”
Something told me to stand as well. When I did, Owain bowed at the waist, and said, “Madam, forgive me, I did not know, or I would have spoken to you first. Owain Kendrick, at your service.”
“Uh, no problem,” I said. “Pleased to meet you.”
Lucas grinned. “Now that we’ve scared her half to death, Uncle, can we loosen up?”
“We can indeed, you rascal,” Owain said, drawing Lucas into a manly man hug and pounding him on the back. “I told Moira to get you down here to say hello before I had to come to the surface and find you myself.”
“My apologies,” Lucas said. “The DGI has been keeping me busy. But seriously, you’ve outdone yourself this time, Uncle! This place is amazing, even better than the tree city.”
Tree city? I made a mental note to ask Lucas about that one later.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Lute rumbled. “He captured my vision for Qynn perfectly.”
Owain tried to deflect the praise, but he flushed with pleasure all the same. “I merely had the honor of drawing up the plans,” he said, “and of working with exceptional artisans from Shevington.”
“Show these fine folks around, Owain,” Lute suggested. “I need to swim down to the seabed gardens and check in on the planting.” Swiveling his head toward me, the turtle said, “Traditionally we leatherbacks survive on jellyfish, but as I have no quarrel with the creatures, eating them seems rather unnecessarily aggressive, wouldn’t you say?”
“If I were a jellyfish I’d sure think so,” I agreed earnestly. “What do you eat?”
“Seaweed,” Lute said genially. “Ever tried the stuff? Highly nutritious. What we’ll be growing here will be completely free of human contamination.”
“What kind of contamination?”
Lute’s eyes grew sad. “More things than I can tell you, young lady,” he said. “Everything from medical waste to nuclear radiation.”
“That’s awful!” I said. “I had no idea.”
“Most on land do not,” Lute said, turning slowly and paddling away. Just before he disappeared under the surface, he called over his shoulder, “Come back soon, Jinx Hamilton, and often.”
As the water stilled again, an overwhelming sense of awe filled me as I realized I had just been in the presence of both greatness and true benevolence.
“That,” I said, looking at Lucas, “may have been the most amazing experience of my life.”
He and Owain both laughed. “Lute has that effect on people,” Owain said. “For a creature who has lived five centuries, he remains remarkably light at heart, though deeply saddened by the impact of humankind on the great oceans.”
“Is that why he decided to seek sanctuary in the Valley?” I asked.
“Yes,” Owain said. “The sea people are losing the fight to protect the integrity of their home waters. Lute believed the time had come to continue the fight from a more secure base, one that would help to preserve the best of merfolk culture. Shall we have that tour Lute suggested?”
Lucas and I walked with him through the streets and along the canals of Qynn, a city whose graceful curves and flowing structures mimicked the lines of the sea environment lying beyond the protective bubble. Everywhere, incorporated in the architectural decorations, I spotted objects from the human realm — ship’s figureheads and wheels, harpoons, anchors, buoys, and even ancient gold coins no doubt plucked from sunken treasure chests.
When I asked Owain about the items, he said, “The merfolk are great collectors. For centuries, they derived all their knowledge of mankind from the things that sank into their world from the surface. There is not a wreck lying on the seabed they have not explored. Lute was one of the first to see the great vessel called Titanic after she sank on a cold winter’s night in 1912 with 1,503 souls lost. He cannot tell the story even now without weeping for them.”
Owain continued to point out rescued artifacts as we strolled down the long central boulevard flanked by flowing canals filled with sea creatures busily going about their business. I was passing the time of day with a lovely purple octopus when a commotion at the far end of the promenade made me look up.
A young man ran toward us, his voice rising in volume as he came nearer. “Owain!” he cried. “Owain! You must come. There has been a terrible accident.”
Catching the boy by the arms, Owain commanded, “Steady, man. Steady. Tell me what has happened.”
Gasping for breath, the worker said, “We were bringing the last dolphin pod through the Atlantic portal. There was a new man on the team, a fellow from the Shevington stables. He misjudged the current and got caught in the suction.”
“Is he alive?” Owain asked urgently.
“I truly do not know,” the boy said. “One of the dolphins dove after him. We could not reach them before the portal closed. It will not open again for six hours.”
Cold foreboding ran down my spine. “What was his name?” I demanded, catching hold of the messenger myself and almost shaking him. “The name of the worker from the stables? What was it?”
Blinking, the boy said, “Endicott, ma’am. I think his name was Connor Endicott.”
I felt the weight of Owain’s gaze on me. “Do you know this Endicott?” he asked. “Is he of importance to you?”
“He is,” I replied w
oodenly. “He’s my brother.”
Everything after that still blurs in my mind. I remember Lucas taking hold of me and steering me as we hurried to an airlock that would give us access to the water outside. Owain pressed a small bottle of iridescent liquid in my hand saying, “Drink this. It will allow you to breathe underwater on your own.”
I did as I was told, experiencing a cascading warmth similar to the earlier sensation when Lucas took my hand. Together we entered the inland sea. Then, I was beyond the confines of the dome, swimming between Owain and Lucas toward the work site. Two large pillars marked the portal’s location. Groups of workers clustered around the area along with a pod of approximately 25 dolphins. One of the creatures broke away and came toward us.
“Owain,” the dolphin said, in a high-pitched, clicking voice. “Please accept my personal apologies for this incident. I could not reach the humanoid in time.”
“We know you tried, Delphinus,” Owain answered. “I understand one of your number went through with him?”
The dolphin nodded. “Capensis was nearest to the man and dove with him through the torrent of the portal.”
“Torrent?” I said. “Is it really that bad?”
Delphinus answered me with deep compassion. “Humanoids are somewhat less capable than we of negotiating the current,” he said gently.
As I looked at his sinuous form, easily nine feet of powerfully packed muscle under tough gray skin, tears came to my eyes. “Is my brother dead?” I asked in a choked voice.
“Your brother?” Delphinus asked, tilting his head to the side. “Forgive me. I did not know. Capensis is our strongest swimmer. If anyone could successfully safeguard the boy through the portal, it would be he.”
Lucas, who had been hanging suspended and still in the water near Owain throughout the conversation, spoke up. “There has to be something we can do,” he said.
“Sadly, not for six hours,” Owain answered. “The portal can only be opened according to a set schedule so as not to alert the humans on the other side and to maintain the correct volume and salinity here in the Sea of Qynn.”
Witch on Third (A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 6) Page 18
