by DM Fike
I laughed as he bent over to retrieve it. “That makes us even for the ID stunt you pulled at the bar.”
“I suppose it does,” he said, adjusting the cap back over his ebony hair. A smile softened the dark eyes raking over me. “Guess I’ll have to up my game next time.”
My body temperature rose several degrees, and it wasn’t because of my fire pith. “How’d you get here so fast?”
His perfect smile wavered. “I’m staying with a friend in Eugene.”
It had been a while since I’d flirted with anyone, and besides, that’s not why I’d agreed to meet up with Vincent. I pushed my juvenile emotions aside to focus on the matter at hand.
“So, you’re investigating something out of your jurisdiction?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, his expression all cop now. “Even though no one else seems to care, the Humboldt marten deaths are truly bizarre. They defy any poacher case I’ve ever handled. I decided to widen my search and found a report of a similar incident here with American martens. Not the exact same species, but similar enough. I decided to check it out during my days off.” The way he narrowed his eyes told me he didn’t like what he found.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He headed for the road. “You should check for yourself.”
The parking lot led out to a bridge that crossed the Middle Santium River. It wasn’t very far across, but you had to walk on an extremely narrow sidewalk on a two-lane bridge. Two cars zoomed past, each feeling like it missed grazing me by inches. I relaxed once we got to the other side. Vincent then directed us toward a tree-filled peninsula on the lake. We blazed a barely maintained trail overgrown with ferns and fallen red logs, wading through tall grass on our way toward Foster Lake.
We stumbled upon Vincent’s scene not far in. Five martens lie in various poses like discarded dolls at the end of a tea party, some slumped over, some facedown. I approached one and gently touched the stiff, cold corpse, fighting back a lump in my throat. Her little frozen face mirrored Abby’s terror when the mishipeshu had jumped out of the water.
Vincent’s voice hovered above me. “Martens are solitary creatures, but these are all adults weaned from their mothers. Something must have attacked them and disposed of them here.”
“Like a dumping ground?”
“Exactly, but with no visible signs of trauma, no concrete cause of death. Same as in the dunes. They’re also all freshly killed. I searched this area yesterday morning, and they weren’t here. A fisherman found the first batch of dead martens a week ago and called it in. There was nothing here at 8 a.m. yesterday. I found them early this morning when I decided to recheck the scene, hoping for something I missed. Given their state, I’d guess they were killed sometime late last night.”
The timeframe worked out. We’d last seen the mishipeshu during the afternoon. The distance, though, made absolutely no sense. We were well over a hundred miles away from the dunes with no direct water pathway between them. It went against the weak theory of the vaettur’s fast swimming ability.
As I quietly mulled over all the possible scenarios, Vincent grew suspicious. “You know something, don’t you?”
I straightened, my heart heavy as I viewed the other martens. “You’re right. It’s a vaettur.”
Vincent stiffened, his tone accusatory. “You said it wasn’t a monster before.”
“Lots of things have happened since I last saw you.”
“What kind of things?”
I knew I shouldn’t tell Vincent, but at this point, he was involved, and I wanted his take on things. I gave the briefest summary of how we’d been attacked, leaving out any mention of the vitae cleft. He tensed as I gave him a description of what the mishipeshu looked like. I outlined the battles both at the shore and in the dunes. I ended with Guntram’s encounter with the panther in his youth and how tough it had been to banish.
Vincent deflated a little at this news. “So, you don’t have a plan to kill this vitter?”
“Vaettur,” I corrected, emphasizing the long ‘A’ vowel sound. “And no, we’re kind of at a loss. All we know is that it tends to show itself around bodies of water.” My eyes naturally wandered over to Foster Lake, the sun reflecting off its surface. I navigated through two trees toward the lake. “Maybe something here will help us figure out this mystery.”
I came upon a steep bank of loose rock which led down to the water’s edge. I skipped to the bottom while Vincent carefully picked his way down. The lake wavered up and down before us, the north and south shores forming a rough valley of trees underneath an expansive midday sky.
“The mishipeshu sure loves lakes.” I slipped out of my hiking boots and checked to make sure I had my phone secured inside one of Sipho’s watertight pouches. Then I waded out knee-deep into the water, careful to balance myself on the shifting rocks.
Vincent took several steps toward me, soaking his own sneakers. “Where are you going?”
“To swim around the lake.” I motioned him back to the shore. “You won’t be able to keep up with me. Just wait there.”
Vincent did not seem pleased with being left behind. “What if the vaettur’s in the lake?”
I glanced up at the partly cloudy sky. “There’s no storm forming. Relax, cowboy. I’m just going to take a quick peek. I doubt I’ll find anything, and if I do, I’ll come right back.”
I didn’t give Vincent a chance to argue as I dove, plunging my head into the water. I kept near the surface, though, so I could inhale a breath now and again. I briefly tried to repeat everything Baot had taught me about the underwater breathing sigil, but I soon got sick of trying and just swam along, kicking deeper underwater to search for anything suspicious before coming up for more sweet, sweet air.
The lake was a bit of a misnomer since a dam had formed it. Artificial reservoirs generally feel less comfortable to a shepherd than a natural lake, kind of like eating fruit out of a can instead of fresh from the garden. Not my favorite kind of swim, but I got used to it as I stroked forward. Rainbow trout, their telltale pink scales blinking in the murky under dark, swam past me as I dove toward the middle of the lake. Using fire pith, I lit my hands so I could view the lake bottom easier.
I reached the deepest point in the lake and flashed my lights around. Having no expectation of what I’d find, it wasn’t shocking that nothing stood out. It was a muddy lake bottom with bits of small fish swimming around. My pithways filled with water, the urge to breathe slowly returning. I rotated to break to the surface when something flashed out of the corner of my eye.
A blue light blinked on and off somewhere, half-buried under a pile of murky rocks. I kicked my legs and plunged toward it. It took me a second to pinpoint exactly where the light originated from, since a lot of algae-laden gunk covered it. I expected to find an electrical device, maybe something a boater lost while fishing, so I was shocked to uncover the flat surface of an unusually smooth stone with little cracks running through it. Light shimmered from the fissures and then faded again.
I poked at it with a stick a few times. It appeared ordinary enough besides its self-sustaining light. I reached out my fingers and brushed the sides, like petting a wild animal you weren’t sure would bite. It caused the pith inside me to flurry in a pattern I’d never experienced before, so I withdrew my hand quickly. The sensation immediately abated.
I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at, but it certainly wasn’t an ordinary rock. I finally decided to ditch being timid and slapped my palm right near the blue streaks. It gave off a strange buzz that resonated with my pith, like a tuning fork ringing inside the corners of my pithways. It was odd, to be sure, but not harmful.
My lungs burned. I didn’t know how long it would take me to get to the surface, so I drew an underwater breathing sigil, almost out of habit. And to be honest, it actually wasn’t half bad, probably because my mind concentrated on the weird rock.
The moment I finished drawing the sigil, I spun out of control, caught in a strange
undertow. The world flipped upside down. Water swooshed past my ears in freefall, then suddenly the sensation stopped, and I found myself in darker depths than before.
Disoriented, I searched for the water’s surface. The faintest light flickered below me, where I had previously stood at the lake’s bottom. Figuring I must have gotten turned around at some point, I righted myself and made a break for air.
At first, gasping in ragged chunks, I didn’t have the sense to observe my surroundings. As oxygen refilled my brain, though, I noticed some glaring inconsistencies. The lake seemed to have widened somehow. The forested trees that once lined the shores had disappeared. An RV campground appeared not far off in the distance. Flustered, I swam for it, wondering if maybe I’d swum farther than I originally intended.
My feet found ground again, and I pulled my soaking body out of the water. Several yards away squatted a handful of RVs. The door of one shot open, and a heavyset man in a tank top with a beer can in his hand gaped in my direction.
“Why ya swimming in the lake with all yer clothes on?” he asked.
I ignored his question. “What campground is this?”
“What campground?” His face alit with the kind of confusion usually reserved for an algebra problem.
“Yes, what campground?” I said slowly, enunciating each word as if talking to an alien. I decided to hijack his mother tongue as well. “What is the name of this here place?”
“You mean Fern Ridge Shores?”
My heart stopped. That couldn’t be right. “Are you sure?”
“Yer the one asking,” he moaned. “Now tell me why the hell yer swimming with yer jacket on.”
I ignored him, plunging right back into the water.
How did I end up over a hundred miles away from Foster Lake?
CHAPTER 15
YOU KNOW THAT moment when you pull off an awesome combo in a fighting video game and you just decimate your friend? I’m talking full health to KO in one move. Your buddy, who plays religiously, didn’t even realize your character could do that. It gives you a surge of invincibility. Even though you have no idea how you pulled it off, you feel like nothing can stop you.
Until you try to pull it off again, and you fail. Over and over. No matter how you try, you have no idea how you did it the first time. You play for hours against your friend, and he just crushes you into the ground because you can’t repeat your ultimate move.
That was me, diving into the bottom of Fern Ridge Lake, dozens of times, trying to activate the glowing rock that had transported me from Foster Lake. I kicked it, stomped it, poured every type of pith I could think into it, but nothing worked. I spent ages diving down into the depths, trying to figure out exactly what I had done. Coming up for air also irritated me, breaking up any progress I might have made at investigating the stupid thing.
As the sun sank behind the hills, I had to give up. I swam my way toward a remote shore, no small feat given how close the lake was to Eugene, one of Oregon’s more populated towns. I plopped down on my butt, defeated, staring glumly out at the water.
A faint hum resonated somewhere near my bellybutton. I pulled the underwater pouch containing my cell phone and discovered a stalker’s worth of calls from Vincent, calling me every five minutes. My heart stopped. I’d left Vincent back at Foster Lake. He had no idea where I’d gone. I answered the phone on the last dial before it went to voicemail.
“Hey,” I said sheepishly.
“Ina!” The edge in his voice made him sound breathless. “Ina, is that you?”
“Yeah. Sorry about the wait. I got carried away by something.”
His next set of questions came out in a panicked rush. “Did the monster attack you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Really.”
“Then what happened?”
I wanted to placate him. “I found something strange at the bottom of the lake. I just spent a long time checking it out.”
“Where are you? I drove around the lake looking for you. I can pick you up. We can look at it together.”
“Uh,” I paused, scrambling for the right words. “No can do, Vincent. It’s not possible.”
Vincent’s tone lowered several notches, from fear to barely contained fury. “You’re not going after this thing alone, are you? I know you’ve got powers, but by your own admission, this thing can kill even your best wizards. You can’t…”
“Hold on, sheriff,” I interrupted dryly. “I’m not trying to upstage you or anything. You physically can’t come pick me up. I’m at Fern Ridge Lake.”
“Fern Ridge?” I imagined watching the wheels turn in his skull as he calculated the distance. “You ran away from me?”
“Of course, I didn’t!” I yelled. “This isn’t some 19th century drama. Look, I found this weird rock at the bottom of Foster Lake, and I touched it and it transported me here.”
This made him sputter. “What? You mean, like when you jump into trees and disappear?”
“No, it’s not like that. Those are wisp channels. We use ’em all the time. This is something else, something foreign to me.”
His voice became accusatory again. “So just come back.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do, Garcia?” I snapped. “I have no idea how I did it. As far as I know, the whole thing is a one-way trip.”
This finally put the game warden in his place. “Oh,” he said lamely.
“Yes, ‘oh.’” I should’ve cut him some slack. He had less idea of what was going on than me, but I was still irritated that I couldn’t figure out the ridiculous stone. And if I couldn’t understand it, I’d have to request help from a higher authority.
I hated authority.
“This has to be connected to the monster,” Vincent said. “I could come pick you up. Maybe if you showed me what you saw, we could puzzle it out together.”
“No, Vincent. This is above both of our heads. Besides—” I stared up at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late. I gotta go.”
Vincent realized my intent a second too late. “Wait, Ina, don’t hang…”
I clicked the phone off and powered it down so he couldn’t bother me by calling fifteen times in a row.
I grimaced as I treaded toward the nearest wisp channel without my boots. It was going to be a real doozy explaining all this to Guntram. Maybe I’d luck out, and he wouldn’t be at the homestead when I got back.
* * *
Of course, Guntram had already returned when I arrived at the homestead.
The ravens darted among the darkened branches of a full moonlit night, indicating my augur’s presence. I expected Guntram to lay into me as I headed for the lodge. If his birdbrains had spotted me, he already knew I’d left the homestead in his absence. He rarely waited when he wanted to give me a piece of his mind.
So, imagine my surprise when I found the lodge empty. No one, not even an ailing Zibel, remained in any of the rooms. I considered reveling in my good luck and taking a nap, but curiosity refused to let me relax. I sauntered outside, sure I’d find signs of life at least in Sipho’s cabin, but no light poured from the window. Stranger than an empty forge, though, an external vibration rippled across the back of my neck. The energy in my pithways churned with unease.
Something was going on.
I whirled around in a circle and caught the faintest green hue lighting up the grove of trees behind the library. I crouched down low, clutching the new batteries in my kangaroo pocket. I had no idea what could be happening, but I approached the scene cautiously, prepared for the worst.
A few steps in, something brushed past me, almost knocking me over. I cried out as I regained my balance, already drawing a square to lift the ground beneath my assailant’s feet in a counterattack. I noticed the deer’s spindly legs just in time, and let the earth sink back into my pithways as the fawn hopped toward the green light.
I hesitated. Animals don’t usually run toward danger.
Another scurry of motion to my right cau
sed me to whip my head around. Two more deer emerged out of the darkness and leaped past me as graceful as ballerinas. The hair on their spines stood straight up, indicating they also perceived that same strange pith sensation.
I recognized them as Tabitha’s kidama. Perhaps she was in trouble. I jogged after them, hands in fists to defend myself.
As I rounded the corner of the library, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
In the dead center of the grove sat a cross-legged Tabitha, her fingers flying in a series of complex sigils. Sweat beaded on her brow, her eyes closed in concentration. Above her lap floated one of the vitae orbs, a strobing light pulsating from within its depths. In front of her stood a black-tailed buck with antler stubs. Jortur, one of Tabitha’s favorite kidama. A semi-circle of encroaching black-tailed deer surrounded the augur and kidama pair, watching with the kind of blank awe that only that species can achieve.
“Glad you could make it,” a voice whispered in my ear.
Baot nearly scared me out of my shorts. He smiled as I flinched away from him. A line of shepherds stood watching beside him: Guntram with his arms folded, Darby wringing her hands, Sipho flanked by her mountain lions, and even Zibel resting on a crude stool.
I calmed my pounding heart. “What’s going on?”
Guntram answered with a glare. “Hush.”
I zipped my lips as the vibrations crescendoed, as if someone had injected my spine with them. I could feel individual strands of nerves in my body, all humming in a bizarre kind of harmony. Everyone else must have felt it too because they all swayed, the less experienced shepherds fidgeting more. Meanwhile, Tabitha’s fingers never stopped dancing, the light of the orb slowly seeping from within the glass itself and gliding across the distance into the buck’s pupils.
A flash of green fireworks unexpectedly sizzled between Tabitha and Jortur. I averted my eyes as they wobbled in their sockets. With my vision compromised, I could only hear the odd snorts and squeals of excited black tails, followed by what I swear sounded like a ghostly voice whispering directly in my brain.
