Turning Tides (Elements, Book 3)

by Mia Marshall

  “What do we always do when things go wrong?”

  I grinned. My burst of happiness was inappropriate, considering the current situation, but if nothing else we now had a valid reason to contact Simon and Vivian. Yes, they’d moved out of the cabin, but they’d never leave Sera in a lurch if they could help it.

  “Didn’t Simon call earlier? Right before the trial?”

  She groaned. “I forgot about that. He asked for Fiona, said he had a question about healing, but he wouldn’t go into details. I was supposed to deliver the message to her, but got distracted by the whole accused of murder thing. I’ll let her know tomorrow.”

  “No, let me handle it. I may hate healing, but I can still answer some basic questions.”

  Sera took a seat at the small laptop computer set up for guests and booted it up. “In the meantime, let’s see if Vivian will help. You do have internet here, right?” She didn’t wait for me to answer, already opening her favorite music program. If she was going to be trapped for several days, she would damn sure have Social Distortion for company.

  I was relieved to see the cottage was connected, as elementals were historically quite anti-technology. Rumor had it we refused to ride in a passenger train until 1932. However, even we recognized the benefits of internet shopping. We might resist big scary metal things that rumbled along iron rails, but it was a lot harder to resist the lure of books and clothes being sent to the island with the click of a button. Even if it did force me to listen to Sera’s music, having access to the internet would make our investigation much easier.

  Sera found the site she needed and opened a video chat window. “Wait. This isn’t right.”

  I peered over her shoulder, trying to see the problem. Unfortunately, after my decade as a technology-free hermit, video chat was still relegated to the “freaky science fiction” category.

  “Vivian’s not online,” she explained, pointing at the gray dot. “Vivian is always online. What has that woman done to her?”

  The woman to whom Sera referred was Olivia, Vivian’s live-in girlfriend and the subject of my and Sera’s irrational dislike. Sure, Vivian chose to move out of the cabin because she needed a break from the non-stop chaos and murder attempts, but we preferred to blame Olivia.

  We hadn’t heard from Vivian since she left, and we were trying to respect her need for distance. Still, she was a friend, and I had to believe she’d be willing to help Sera avoid a murder conviction and the subsequent death penalty.

  I pulled out my phone to call our earth friend. It went to voicemail, and I left a short message, asking her to call us.

  “What about Simon?”

  “In what world would Simon sit around, waiting for people to contact him?” She had a point. “Mac’s never online, either. When did you last talk to him?”

  “When the plane landed, just to check in. He sounded tired, but he brushed it off when I asked him about it. Think they’re having wild parties without us? Maybe they’re all sleeping it off.”

  I was joking, but my words triggered a thought for Sera. A few keystrokes later, a familiar and utterly adorable face filled the monitor. “Ladies,” said Miriam, her voice booming. Sera adjusted the volume down. “How the hell you doing? Homesick already?”

  Miriam was an otter shifter, and she looked it. Physically, she was as cute as a basket of, well, otters, with big melting brown eyes, a button nose, and cheeks that begged to be pinched. Of course, if you followed through on that urge, you were likely to lose your hand. The woman was brash, outspoken, and often seemed to speak entirely in curse words. I kind of wanted to be her when I grew up.

  Like Vivian, Simon, and a handful of other shifters, she knew my secret and hadn’t told anyone. I trusted these people, far more than I trusted elementals these days.

  “You have no idea how homesick we already are,” I answered.

  “Brook, I’m looking at your tits, and let’s be honest, there ain’t that much to see. Get in the damn frame.”

  I knelt until only my disembodied head appeared in the bottom of the frame. “Better?”

  Miriam nodded. “So what’s up?”

  “Sera’s been accused of murder,” I announced, like any older sister tattling on a younger one.

  “Again? Did you at least do it this time?”

  Sera shook her head, disgusted. “I was thinking unflattering thoughts about the victim, but nothing incendiary.”

  “It was awful,” I said. “I’m going to have nightmares about what we saw today. The problem is we have no idea who did it. All we know is the councilwoman was about to deliver my sentence, then she freaking exploded. So far as we know, there aren’t any other fires on the island. We’re pretty much as a loss here.”

  Miriam nodded, then a smile lit up her face. “I could come up and help.”

  Sera dumped the last of the cabernet into her glass. “No offense, Miriam, but what could you do?”

  The otter’s grin remained firmly in place. “I could smack some elemental heads together. That would definitely help me feel better.”

  “Maybe later,” I said. “Have Vivian or Simon been around? We could use their help with some surveillance and research stuff.” The otters liked to hang out in the river behind the cabin and seemed to know more about what went on in our house than we did.

  “I was last there yesterday morning. Simon’s been by to visit Mac, and those agents have stopped by a couple of times, but that’s it.”

  That was news. We hadn’t heard from the FBI agents for weeks now, ever since the night Carmichael accidentally killed Mac while trying to protect me. I’d managed to revive Mac, but that didn’t mean I was ready to forget how he’d ended up dead in the first place. I imagined I’d forgive Carmichael eventually, but I wasn’t sure it would be in this century.

  I pulled my notebook from my handbag and began rifling through the pages until I found Olivia’s address. I handed it to Sera, who typed it into the chat window while speaking. “Miriam, could you wander over to this apartment building and let Viv know what’s going on? I think she might be ignoring us, so maybe find a way to convince her that’s a bad idea?”

  There was a beep on the other end as the address went through. “Will do. You want me to tell Will and Carmen?”

  I considered it. We’d recently helped find several missing shifter children, and I was sure their parents would be happy to help, if only to even the score. No shifter wanted to be indebted to an elemental. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything they could do, and I feared their involvement would only worsen matters with the council.

  “Just Simon, if you see him.” We said our good-byes and closed the chat program.

  I’d waited all night to make the next call. Mac might not be able to do any more than Will and Carmen, but just hearing his voice would provide more comfort than every bottle of wine in the kitchen.

  The call went to voicemail. It was one of those automated responses, too, so I couldn’t even be pathetic and enjoy the sound of his voice telling me to leave a message.

  I tried to hide it, but Sera saw the disappointment cross my face. “Get some sleep, H2O. You’ve got a busy day tomorrow, what with exonerating me and figuring out where the hell all our friends have gone.” She grabbed a blanket out of the closet and chucked it to me, indicating the sofa with a jerk of her head. “And accused murderers always get the bed. See you in the morning.”

  She walked into the second bedroom and closed the door, leaving me alone in a silent room.

  To my surprise, I managed several good hours of sleep, only waking when the risen sun peered at me through the blinds. Sera and Lana were still asleep, so I started a pot of coffee for them and put on the kettle for my morning tea. I eyed my journal, craving the clarity I always found in writing, but I didn’t feel safe jotting down my thoughts while surrounded by a bunch of old ones. I always described my life in broad strokes, not wanting to give away the existence of elementals should the journal fall into human hands, but t
hese days that was the least of my concerns. If an elemental read it and guessed that my two halves didn’t refer to one side that liked peanut butter and another that liked chocolate, there’d be no laughing. Blood and death, perhaps, but no laughing.

  Instead, I pulled off my sweats and, in just my underwear and a cotton camisole, I stepped outside, ran around the porch, and dove into the ocean.

  It swallowed me instantly, and I sank to the rocky bottom. I stayed there for a long time, letting the water recharge me and fuel my magic in a way sleep never could. So long as I accessed my element, I could go weeks without eating or sleeping. I had a sense I’d need to be at full power today, and I definitely wanted my water side to be in charge. Even in June, the water was cold, but I didn’t feel it. It just felt like home.

  At last I rose, ready to face whatever new insanity this day felt like throwing at me. I pulled myself up the ladder and drew the water from my body, drying off a bit before heading inside.

  I returned to the quiet living room, pulled my sweats back on, and grabbed my phone. I stepped onto the front porch for a bit of privacy, in case the others awoke. I didn’t care how early it was. I hadn’t spoken to Mac since noon the day before, and that was too damn long. Hell, sometimes an hour felt like too long.

  It rang four, five times, and just as the heavy weight of disappointment settled in my stomach, someone picked up. Unfortunately, that someone wasn’t Mac.

  “We are on our way.”

  “Wait, what? Simon?”

  “Of course.”

  “But this is Mac’s phone.” I wasn’t sure if I was the one being simple-minded or if it was him, but one of us was definitely confused.

  “Mac is sleeping. I answered. Are you going to continue to offer inane commentary, or are you going to tell us where to meet you?”

  I was at least three minutes behind on this conversation, and I wasn’t sure I could blame it entirely on my lack of caffeine. “How did you know we needed help?”

  “I’m psychic. Or I have no idea what you are talking about. Choose one.”

  “Wait, then why are you coming up here?”

  “He did not tell you?”

  It was with a great force of will that I didn’t bang my head against the porch railing in frustration. Unconsciousness might be more productive than this conversation.

  “Simon. You know I love you, but if you were speaking in Swahili, you couldn’t make less sense. What is going on?”

  A brief wave of static interrupted whatever response Simon was preparing. “We’re cutting out. I’ll tell you when we get there. Meet us in Seattle tonight?”

  My gut clenched. As much as I wanted to think they were rushing to visit because they so missed me and Sera, experience suggested they were bringing some fresh hell my way.

  We set a time and place. “Can you tell me anything? Cause you’re kind of freaking me out here, Simon.”

  “Mac’s…” His voice cut out, leaving me with only fragments of words. “In… mountains.” The line cleared for a moment. “Why do you need help?”

  “Sera’s accused of murder.”

  “Again?” Simon asked, just before being disconnected.

  I hung up and stared at the phone, hoping it would provide an explanation for what had just occurred. It remained frustratingly silent. I knew I should be worried, and I was, but a larger part celebrated the news that, in a few more hours, I’d be seeing Mac.

  My mind still struggling to make sense of the conversation with Simon, I stumbled into the kitchen where a cup of tea waited, along with a bright-eyed water elemental.

  “What’s the plan for today, Aidan?” Lana asked, hands clutched around my cup. Without a word, I refilled the kettle and dropped a teabag into a second mug.

  Lana was kind, gentle, and more than a little annoying. Some elementals reached centuries of age roughly the same person they’d always been. Others, particularly those who lived alone, tended to go just a little bit weird. Lana fit squarely in the second category.

  One more reason to be grateful Sera saved me from my hermit ways.

  “What brings you to the island, Lana?” And more to the point, when do you plan to leave? I added silently.

  “Oh, David and I are traveling the country this summer. This island isn’t far from David’s home, so we decided to pay your family a visit.”

  “You two are that serious?”

  “Mmmm,” she said, a wordless reply that nonetheless managed to be quite eloquent. Lana was a goner for her stone boyfriend, that much was clear.

  “David’s coming over soon, isn’t he? With the camera?”

  Lana smiled and poured the now boiling kettle into the second mug, which she proceeded to claim as her own. I did not attempt to set her on fire, which I thought said loads about how my emotional control was developing.

  “He’s already texted me five times this morning. He’s so romantic that way. He said he couldn’t sleep without me, so he was on the plane first thing this morning.”

  I did some quick math in my head. The flight back and forth would take just over an hour. Add in the time needed to purchase the camera in Bellingham and the travel time to get back across the island, and I was looking at another hour alone with Lana. I had the distinct feeling that, so long as the other woman remained in our living room, Sera wouldn’t make an appearance.

  “Once he arrives, I’m going to head over to my mother’s, to learn as much as I can about what happened to that councilwoman.”

  “The poor thing,” she murmured.

  “Indeed. You should come.” I was sure my mother wouldn’t mind getting stuck with Lana babysitting duty.

  I didn’t give her a chance to come up with some daft reason why she needed to stay at the cottage. Instead, I disappeared into the bathroom and showered for the next forty-five minutes. The islanders piped in their water from the canals and never bother to heat it, so I didn’t even need to feel guilty about the waste. Instead, I reveled in the privacy.

  When enough time had passed, I dressed for the day in a clean pair of jeans and a blue tank top. I combed my hair into a neat ponytail. I was almost desperate enough to start applying makeup when I heard the stone’s low voice in the other room.

  I rushed out, barely remembering to offer David a civil greeting in my hurry to get out of the cottage. I taped a note to the coffee maker, where Sera would be sure to see it, then dragged Lana away from her boyfriend.

  “I’ll be back soonish. Let me know if you have any problems with the camera.”

  He nodded, unperturbed, as he removed each item from the box and lined them up on the kitchen counter. David was a stone. He’d read the instructions from beginning to end, then reread them to make sure he understood. He would be there for a while.

  At last, with Lana at my side, I stepped out into the bright light of morning, bound and determined to prove my best friend innocent and get the hell off this island.

  Chapter 5

  The island hadn’t been so much planned as built around hundreds of years of various Brooks planting a stake and declaring the land theirs. There weren’t property lines, just canals that ran between houses, and not a single home was built along a straight line with another. The gravel walkways zagged in every direction, often doubling back on themselves when they encountered a large fountain or random building. Even so, it never took more than thirty minutes to walk from one end of the island to the other.

  The unprotected west shore belonged to the guest cottages. The east held the pier, where the seaplane and all the island’s boats rested when not in use, tucked into a small cove and hidden by the tall fir trees that lined the shore. The south shore was the calmest of the lot, and the only part of the island that had a true sandy beach we would lounge on during the warm summer months. Our version of a town center was plopped in the middle of the island.

  There were houses scattered all over, in every possible style. The younger elementals favored the Craftsman and Art Deco styles, while the olde
r ones built Colonials and faux Tudors. Nothing matched, not in color or style or size. The first time I’d seen a planned development in the human world, I’d stood on the sidewalk for a full five minutes, unable to imagine the mind that could produce such order.

  The northeast shore belonged to my nearest relatives. The house I’d grown up in was furthest west, a simple white Cape Cod home with green shutters. Grams lived to the east in a large brick two-story Georgian that was completely dwarfed by its proximity to my great-grandma’s house. Hers sat between the other two homes, a neoclassical monstrosity complete with columns and a curving driveway, despite the island having no cars.

  Great-grandmother was the oldest resident of the island and its proud matriarch, and her home was more than a house. It was where the island gathered for companionship, entertainment, and news. Despite her absence, the house maintained its role as community center, and the porch and living room were crammed full of people looking to relive the scandalous trial and murder. My aunts, who lived in matching bungalows close to town, had appointed themselves hostesses, keeping the gathered masses content with food, gossip, and mimosas.

  My mother was already there, working on damage control. When I entered, she was patiently suggesting to two distant cousins that it was perhaps overkill to require all members of the Blais family to register themselves as deadly weapons.

  There were too many people around for an open conversation, so I stayed just long enough to suggest she entertain Lana for the day, then rushed out the door before she could protest.

  Alone for the first time since landing on the island, I headed for the transportation center on the eastern side of the island, hoping to convince Robin to lift the travel ban just long enough for me to pop into Seattle and meet up with Simon and Mac.

  On a whim, I detoured through town. It wasn’t much of a town, at least according to most definitions of the word. There was a general store that stocked basic necessities and a private post office that delivered mail whenever someone bothered to take a trip to Friday Harbor and collect from the island’s P.O. box. There was one coffee shop and a restaurant with three tables, both run by people who liked to cook and thought it seemed like a fun way to pass the time. The stores were only staffed for an hour or two a day, as more often than not the proprietors didn’t feel like coming in. People would take what they needed and leave an IOU behind, which the owners never bothered to collect.