by Ann Gimpel
I have to stop this right here. Before I get so lost in wanting her I miss something critical. Something that might avert disaster for my pod.
He constructed a metaphorical vault and swept his confused places inside, sealing them over with magic. He’d receive enough speculative glances once he joined the others. Best to give nothing away. As if they didn’t face enough complications, ones that made him wonder what their small band would look like a fortnight hence. At the end of everything, once they were done on Wrangel Island, he’d take stock of what was left. Assuming he was still alive.
Nothing was certain. Not his survival, nor Moira’s.
Whichever spell they summoned to seal the fissure might damage Earth or the oceans. They could end up as trapped on Wrangel Island as the Shifters had been in Ushuaia. Minus the Vampire problem.
Maybe. For all he knew, Wrangel Island was crawling with Vamps.
As long as he was lost in what-ifs, a line out of Tolkien cropped up. Something about Frodo saving Middle Earth, but not for him as he faded into the Gray Lands along with the Elves. Tolkien had known about magical beings. He’d been one of the few humans who saw their auras…
Oh for pity fucking sakes. Thank all the gods no one’s close enough to read my mind. We need something real, not the ramblings of a long-dead novelist.
Leif pasted a neutral expression on his face and trotted onto the bridge. Everyone nodded his way, but no one asked where he’d been. In a flash of insight, he understood his pod didn’t want to address the issue of their alpha pairing off with anyone other than another sea Shifter, either. Sometimes the best strategy for a problem you couldn’t solve was to ignore it and keep moving forward. He’d taught them that.
Multiple conversations flowed around him, but everyone was hunting for a way to address what lay in wait on Wrangel Island. He was aware of Moira’s unique energy when she entered the bridge about ten minutes after him. The urge to go to her and clasp her hands was overpowering, but he rode herd on it.
He listened while Ketha urged a consultation with her magic book and Moira’s vulture offered decent advice. The thing that diverted his attention away from Moira was when his missing whale showed up sooner than he’d anticipated, and with what might be promising news.
He hurried to the whale and gripped his arms, Viking style. Because they were so few and he’d experienced each death in his pod as a personal failure, he valued those who were left—probably more than he should. For a fleeting moment, he wondered how he’d react to still more deaths and stiffened his spine. The odds of all of them making it through what lay ahead were close to zero.
He had to face facts, accept them, and be the best leader possible.
The whale let go; Leif took a few steps back, offering space for his story to emerge. If they’d been in the sea, the pod would have gathered in a circle, and whale song would have spread through the water to whale Shifters swimming hundreds of miles away.
Except every single whale Shifter was here in this room.
Leif rebuked himself. Now was a time for happiness, not sorrow. His pod was whole again. Maybe not forever, but for now. He snuck a glance at Moira. She’d been hunkered next to Ketha, but she straightened. Encouragement spilled from her as she waited for the whale to begin.
Aura had a clipboard balanced on her lap, the slip of notebook paper divided into columns. Maybe she’d find a prophecy to match up with the whale’s recitation. Leif hoped so. He was hungry for any good omens that came their way.
“Listen up,” the whale intoned and waited while side conversations died away. “Ketha and I ended up on a borderworld. I suspect Poseidon was behind our abduction, but we’ll never know for sure. We were fortunate to arrive before our abductor, but we felt him closing fast and had to make some swift decisions. Ketha left immediately in wolf form for the animals’ world. I activated a teleport spell with no idea where I’d come out.”
The whale extended a hand, and Boris gave him a tumbler full of water. “Thanks.” He drank noisily, not bothering to mop up water running down his chin.
“I ended up swimming among icebergs. I knew I was on Earth because of the atmosphere and the specific salinity of the ocean. The thing I wasn’t certain of was where, so I poked around hunting for something familiar. Didn’t take long before I found the ruins of Anadyr, a small town in northeastern Siberia. So long as I was close to Wrangel Island, I did a small reconnaissance.”
“You took quite a chance,” Leif murmured.
“Not really. We may be shy of whale Shifters, but I found a pod of Orcas and swam along with them.” A smile softened the harsh planes of the whale’s broad face. “They were delighted to see me. All species are frightened of dying out, and the presence of an elder whale gave them hope they weren’t the only ones left.”
“How’d they survive the Cataclysm?” Lewis asked.
“They were young when it hit, and they’d been playing in a protected cove well north of the Arctic Circle. For whatever reason, the water there never developed the poisonous aspect it did elsewhere, so they had food, but they couldn’t swim beyond a certain perimeter. Once the barrier lifted, they didn’t leave right away.”
“Probably wondered if it was a trap,” Lynda murmured.
“They said as much.” The whale nodded her way.
“The Cataclysm was horrible to live through,” Moira spoke up, “but it did much of its damage in subtle ways by making us wonder if we were the only ones left.”
“Indeed,” Karin said. “Many a day we talked about friends and family back in Wyoming, wondering what had become of them. In truth, we still have no idea.”
“Exactly,” the whale agreed. “Using the Orcas as cover, I swam quite close to our objective. There is a gap in the ether, but it’s not pumping out demonkind as I feared it would be. I watched for several days. During that time, a handful of goblins and sprites emerged, but they’re more annoying than dangerous.”
He stopped to take another drink. “The hole is guarded. The keeper appears weak and harmless, although I’m certain it’s a disguise, and it’s unlikely the creature is human. Poseidon showed up once. Amphitrite twice. Not together, mind you. The man—or whatever he is—spoke with them. Here’s where things get interesting, though. My mythology could be stronger, but other entities I’m almost certain were gods also materialized. On those occasions, the gatekeeper vanished, as did the gap. The place appeared to be one more stretch of Arctic beach, indistinguishable from the rest.”
“Surely some magical residue remained,” Karin said.
“My thought as well,” the whale said, “yet when I tested with my own magic, I couldn’t discern a thing.” He shrugged. “My take on this is some of the gods remain. I have no idea if they’re still sorted into pantheons, or if they gave up on that nonsense and are simply themselves.”
“Could you explain what you just said?” Boris got to his feet.
The whale nodded. “As an example, Diana, Artemis, and Arianrhod are one and the same. Virgin huntresses who control the moon and tides. One is from the Roman pantheon, one the Greek, and the other Celtic. Three names. One goddess. They allowed the split to encourage more people to worship them.”
“Fascinating. Thanks.” Boris sat back down.
“Anyway,” the whale went on, “my guess is the gods got wind of a weak place in the ether, one allowing demons access to Earth. They aren’t overly worried—since it’s not the way of gods to concern themselves with what they view as mortals’ affairs—but they are checking.”
“If the creature manning the fissure were strong enough, it wouldn’t have to vanish when Zeus or whoever drops by,” Leif muttered.
“That’s one interpretation,” Ketha said. “Another is whatever we face is maintaining a low profile so it’s at full strength when we arrive. It is a piece of welcome news some of the gods still remain.”
“Hopefully, they’re not as faithless as Poseidon and Amphitrite,” Leif muttered.
“Or E
iocha,” Moira cut in.
“How often did the ones you thought were gods stop in?” Viktor asked.
“Other than Poseidon and Amphitrite, only twice while I was there, so we can’t count on them showing up when we need them.” He scanned the room with his wise, ancient eyes. “I was hoping some of you would know how to communicate with whomever remains of the deities.”
“You brought up an important point about them not paying much attention to humankind,” Moira said.
“But we’re not human,” the whale protested.
“To them, we are,” Karin said.
“It is how things used to be, but their attitudes may have changed since the Cataclysm,” Ketha spoke up.
“’Tis unfortunate each topic brings naught but more unknowns,” Zoe muttered, her brogue thicker than usual.
Leif offered her points for astute observation and hunted for a unifying concept that would weave the disparate threads of their conversation into something useful. There had to be one if he dug deep enough.
“It seems apparent our lieges have gone separate ways,” the whale went on. “There should be a way to deepen that divide and turn them against each other.”
“Is there any chance at all someone could have detected your presence and underplayed the fissure’s strength?” Leif asked.
“I don’t believe so. Otherwise why would Poseidon and Amphitrite have shown up separately? And why would the gatekeeper only disappear when someone I didn’t recognize showed up?”
“Did you see any dolphins?” Leif asked.
“I did. And sharks. And quite an array of smaller fish. The ocean is recovering faster in the Arctic than around Antarctica. Or maybe things have improved in southern waters over the months since we’ve been gone.”
“What are you thinking?” Viktor asked.
Leif exchanged a pointed look with Arkady’s captain. “The ship is a dead giveaway. We need a way to approach Wrangel Island at full strength without the boat. It’s easy for us. We’ll just take to our sea forms. Sounds as if we’ll fit right in.”
“I can fly,” Moira said.
“As can I,” Viktor tossed in.
“It’s a big island,” Juan said. “I wonder what the back half looks like. The side opposite to the fissure.”
“How do you suppose it looks this time of year?” Viktor asked. “Probably blanketed in pack ice.”
“I have an idea.” Aura looked up from where she’d been writing on her clipboard. “It involves the faeries. At one point, they said they were willing to help.”
Understanding crashed over Leif. “You want them to build a channel, like they did for Ceridwen from Malaita to that borderworld.”
“Yes, but this would be easier since the passageway would be entirely on Earth, from a spot on the Siberian mainland to the island. It fits in with a prophecy too, one where the faeries crawl out from beneath their hills and barrows and break free from their dependence on the Fae.”
“Possibly a win all around. It could work.” Karin sounded excited, which wasn’t like her.
“How can we reach them?” Daide asked. He smiled. “I remember the little green faery. She claimed me for hers until I tried to teach her arithmetic. After that, she decided I was too much trouble.”
“No. She decided you lived too far away to contemplate. She did appear mollified when I reassured her I’d take care of you for both of us.” Karin smiled fondly in Daide’s direction.
“Locating the small folk shouldn’t be difficult,” Leif said, relieved to have a project that was doable, an action plan that might yield results. “I’ll teleport to the British Isles. If I bounce off a borderworld, I can be there fast.”
“Take me,” Moira said. “The only way I’ll get better at teleporting is if I practice, and this is one trip where I don’t see any downside if I’m clumsy or use too much magic.”
They were good arguments. Regardless, Leif started to tell her thanks, but no. The words stuck in his throat. He wanted the time with her, particularly since it might be the only time alone they’d ever have. He wasn’t nearly as convinced as the whale that the fissure—and its guardian—didn’t have some ugly tricks up their sleeves. One of the soundest strategies had always been to appear innocuous—until your target drew close enough to kill. Predators had practiced a variation of that technique forever.
He nodded in Moira’s direction. “While we’re gone,” he told the others, “raise Poseidon. Flatter the hell out of the old bastard. It might be enough to get him back in our court.”
“Same with Eiocha,” Aura said. “She could be a valuable ally if we approach her on a better day.”
Grateful to have the beginnings of a plan falling into place, Leif wove through the crowded room to where Moira stood. “Dress warmly,” he told her, “and meet me outside on Deck Three as soon as you can.”
“Thanks for giving me a chance.” She met his gaze in her forthright way.
“Don’t make me sorry.” He turned aside to issue a few last-minute instructions to Lewis. He’d been harsh with Moira, but he couldn’t risk her seeing too deep into the crazy patchwork of emotions roiling through him. Part of him wanted to lock her in her cabin until the confrontation on Wrangel was over. Another wanted to walk away and never look back. Yet another hoped they’d forge a path together, something new where land and sea Shifters had a future as mates. Sorting through options had never been a problem for him before, but it was now.
“What can I do to help?” Lewis asked.
“Make sure Poseidon knows his consort offered herself to me—and that I was horrified and refused. It’s the truth, and he’ll figure that out quick enough once he hears it. If he doesn’t know already.”
“I’m not at all sure I can raise him, but I’ll try. And after that?” Breath whistled through Lewis’s teeth. “I do not like him, but I can’t let it show.”
Leif dropped a hand onto the other dolphin’s shoulder. “The reason you don’t like him is you believe he forsook us.”
“He did. It’s not some errant fantasy.”
“The Cataclysm made us all a little crazy. Listening to thousands of whales singing their pain and death must have cut deep. Try to join with his grief. His sense of loss.”
“Got it. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” Leif squeezed his shoulder and let go.
Lewis leaned closer. “Be careful. Who knows what’s lying in wait in the U.K.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s like going home for me. I’ll return before you’ve even had a chance to miss me, but hopefully not before you’ve had a go at Poseidon.” Leif sprinted out of the bridge, glad to be moving. They’d talked long enough.
He stopped by the cabin he’d selected when he began spending more time on the ship and added a warmer jacket and over-pants. The trip would be chilly, but if he didn’t use a borderworld to speed things along, they’d be gone longer.
He sketched out a few equations, checking his calculations. They were sound. Nothing left but to meet Moira. If she wasn’t there, it would give him the best excuse possible to leave without her. He’d never promised to wait. The push-pull of wanting her versus suspecting his attraction was a minefield waiting to explode left him with a queasy, uncomfortable sensation.
Like he was dabbling in something forbidden.
I am, unless the rules change.
He left his cabin and set a quick pace for the nearest door. Moira stood hunched into a parka, facing away from him. He crossed the open deck to where she stood. Slowly, she turned and said, “I’m ready.”
Concern seared him. She looked terrible. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.” Her expression twisted into something grave and determined. “Running away only makes it harder to face the thing that sent you scrambling with your tail between your legs. The borderworlds give me the heebie-jeebies, but we won’t be there long. And I keep telling myself there’s no way we’d end up stuck there.”
“But t
here is. It’s not a very big chance, but it exists. The energy on other worlds is unpredictable. I’ve never had it trap me, but I’ve come damned close.” He forced a calm, exactly as if he were training an inexperienced sea Shifter. It was a comfortable spot, one he’d been in many times before, and it allowed him to push his longing for the woman standing next to him aside.
“If you come along, you have to pay close attention and do what I tell you as closely as you can manage it.”
“I can do that. Do you have a plan mapped out?”
He nodded. “We’ll visualize the Highlands north of Inverness. Open a channel to your magic, and I’ll send you an image.” At her nod, he went on. “An object can exist in several planes at once, and time is fluid. You have to believe you can be here and other places simultaneously.”
“You sound like my physics professor.”
The words made him smile. “I never went to anything like a university, but that sounded like a compliment. Half the battle with anything magical is believing you can do something. Once you believe in yourself, everything else falls into place.”
She kept her dark eyes glued to his face. He stared back, never wanting to look away. She had beautiful eyes, like luminous, black pools with silvery flecks floating on their surface.
“Your task is to visualize us growing closer to the image I just sent your way of the crumbling castle perched on moorlands. Pay attention to how I weave fire and air together. If things go well, we’ll trade roles on the return trip.”
She smiled gamely. “If I can learn how to do this so it doesn’t drain my magic down to nothing, I’ll be delighted.”
He closed his hands around her upper arms, holding on. “Remember you can exist in more than one form and more than one place. Through our journey, hang onto your sense of my hands on your arms.”
“But our bodies will be different.”
