Blue Tide (The Nike Chronicles Book 3)

by M. L. Bullock

  I glided across the sand and summoned the magic with my hands. With one more quick peek around me, I opened the gate and quickly stepped through it. I had to find Meri and bring her back, or else Minerva would destroy Thessalonike.

  My daughter. Your daughter. That was no cryptic message but a promise. Minerva would have justice—her brand of justice. There would be no reasoning with the being. Like all mermaids, Minerva relied upon her emotions to guide her. What she felt, she felt exponentially. At the moment, she felt raging anger.

  As the fog cleared, I could see that I was not at the Stoa. Instead I was standing before the white columns of the High Council, the heart of the Order. The meaning of this was also clear. I wasn’t going anywhere without their approval. This would mean more red tape, more pleading for help, more time away from my task. I was beginning to hate the politics of it all. I paused in the blue fog and could feel the presence of others near me, but I didn’t step toward them. They waited for me, beckoned me.

  Without a word I waved my hands again, opened the gate and left the Order behind. I had to continue my search. Thessalonike needed me. I had promised her mother that I would do all I could to protect her only daughter. We had been friends, Niceipolis and I—before Philip entered our lives and plowed that friendship under like the bull of a man that he was, at least for a time. I never loved him, but when Niceipolis perished just three weeks after giving birth to the girl, some say at the hands of her unhappy husband, I stepped into her sandals. Like most women in those days I had little choice in the matter, but I did not fight my fate. It was a privilege to be the wife of the king of Macedonia, who would later become the father of Alexander the Great.

  But times were different then. Minotaurs creeped through labyrinths, so-called gods crept into the beds of noble women and magic hung over the world, changing it constantly. And to think, the majority of modern culture shunned such things. They reserved their faith for things they could study under a microscope. Niceipolis had been an exceptionally intelligent woman. While the ancient world celebrated beauties like that brainless twit, Helen of Troy, women like Niceipolis—and myself, dare I say—were shaping governments, influencing leaders.

  Niceipolis had a quiet, elegant beauty, but she wasn’t one to parade through town draped in jewels, as Philip and most men of the time preferred. Thessalonike was very much like her. She was beautiful but not the kind of beauty that required props. And she was intelligent.

  Oh, Niceipolis! I have missed you!

  The magic of the gate ceased, and I stepped out again. This time there was no fog swirling. No supernaturates to greet me. Only an empty plain of tall wheat grass. I spun around to return to the gate, but it was gone. Hidden by the Order, no doubt.

  “No!” I screamed. “Let me through! I have to find Meri before it is too late!” I waved my hands to try to force the gate to appear, but whoever hid it had greater magic than I. With all the strength I could muster I waved my hands again, but with the same results. I screamed in anger but refused to abandon my mission. There had to be another way, something I could use to compel the gate to open, like a sacred stone. In ancient times, during the time of the Great Quarrels between the races, gates were summarily opened and closed without much notice. Thankfully, magic words recorded on sacred stones could be used to force the gate to work during such “quarrels.” Didn’t humans ever wonder where the word “abracadabra” came from? On a whim, I tried it here. Nothing.

  I scanned the horizon. The nearest thing to me was a clump of trees. Perhaps the stone was there. Cedar trees, like the kind that Agrios enjoyed lingering beneath, were old and made good landmarks for old creatures like me. There was nothing else around, only endless fields of tall brown grass. I walked toward the trees, half-expecting something to leap out of the grass. This place had that kind of feeling.

  “You’ll just have to understand, Faydra. She is my daughter,” I said in a whisper, not sure if she heard me. Who was I kidding? Of course she heard me. My disobedience would ensure one thing—that the Order now watched my every move.

  I kept my eye on the tree line and thought about Niceipolis. The day she’d thrown her body across the Compendium of Hope when a priest in her household threatened to burn it. The time she’d stood in the amphitheater, a knife at her neck because she wouldn’t bow to Philip’s horrid oldest daughter, Cleopatra of Epirus. If Philip hadn’t intervened, I can’t say what would have occurred, but my friend had not cowered in the face of adversity.

  And when she died, I could hardly believe it. The birth of Thessalonike had been hard on her, but she’d not stayed in bed long. She was back on her feet caring for Philip and his household with the polished grace of a noblewoman who enjoyed the love of her family and her country. And then she was dead. Found dead. Cold dead in her bed, Philip halfway across the country, making marriage arrangements for the ungrateful Cleopatra. And then he would die soon after.

  Only I was left to shield the last remaining issue of the line of Macedon.

  As my head swam with memories, I noticed that I had not made much progress. In fact, I was back where I started, according to the path I had tread. I began my trek again, careful to keep my eyes and mind trained on the path ahead of me. Then I felt it, a flicker in the air, evidence that what I was seeing wasn’t altogether real. I waved my right hand in an arc, and the scene changed. The fog returned, and the presence of supernaturates became apparent.

  I had never left the steps of the Council. With much trepidation, I walked up the stone ramp past the flickering Flames of Truth and into the long hall, the home of the Higher Order.

  Time to face the music.

  Chapter Eight—Cruise

  Cry Wolf

  “Mayor Bostwick, can you give us the latest on what’s happening here on Dauphin Island?”

  Jacketless with rolled-up sleeves, the mayor nodded thoughtfully at the reporter, a young man about my age. He held the microphone in Sherman Bostwick’s face, barely looking at him.

  The mayor pretended he didn’t notice the guy’s aloofness. “Thank you, Chris, for covering this very important human story. Contrary to popular belief, we haven’t washed away down here, but there is significant damage to the aquarium, the ferry and many other properties on the east end of the island. We haven’t lost anyone, which is the most important thing, but we had some near misses. Luckily, our siren system warned us of the danger, and islanders were able to take shelter. I’m sure that’s what saved us.”

  “Those sirens were installed a few months ago, right?” The mayor nodded proudly, and the reporter prodded him a bit more. “How much time passed between the sirens going off and the arrival of the wave, mayor? Half an hour? Fifteen minutes?”

  “Chris, from what I understand, the sirens gave us a few valuable minutes, and that’s what saved lives here. I will be the first to admit that it wasn’t much time, certainly not enough to protect much of the property, but lives were saved. That’s all that really matters in the end.”

  I shook my head off camera, hardly believing what I was hearing. No, we hadn’t lost anyone—not yet—but we did have two missing people. I couldn’t let this charade continue without speaking up. I was the Chief of Police, for God’s sake. These people were my responsibility. I walked up quietly and stood behind the mayor, hoping the reporter would get the hint, and he did exactly that. He thanked the mayor and then acknowledged me on air, finally, after Bostwick blathered on about how the jetties protected the fort and how the USGS had to be wrong about the whole earthquake thing.

  “Anything you care to add, Sheriff?”

  “Chief, I’m Chief Castille.” I held my hat in my hands and gave him a friendly smile. Where was this guy from? I thought every reporter in the area knew that I had taken Belloc’s place. Maybe not. Still, if he could help me get the word out about the missing people, I didn’t care what he called me.

  “Pardon me, Chief. Anything else you can add?” Bostwick stepped between us and attempted to answer for m
e, but the reporter, who obviously cared nothing for the mayor, interrupted him. “I think the viewers would like to hear from local law enforcement too, sir. Chief?”

  Okay, how do I do this diplomatically? “I think what the mayor did, bringing in those early warning sirens, was the right move, but it really wasn’t enough time. We will have to look at how we can improve that. I’m no scientist, but there has to be a way. As you know, Dauphin Island is only one square mile, and the bridge across Heron Pass is three miles long. It takes at least five minutes to get to the mainland with no traffic, and it’s at least twice that during an evacuation. Sometimes the bridge can get pretty backed up.”

  “Are you going to evacuate the island, Chief?”

  “No, not at this time. I’m thinking we’ll have the report from the geologists and will then know what the next steps are. No problem with local oil rigs, no major construction. I can’t understand what else it could be. But as I said, I am no scientist.”

  “What are you focusing on now, Chief Castille?”

  “Right now, all our efforts are focused on finding the two missing islanders. Beyond that, I don’t know. I guess wait and see what the USGS tells us and be ready.” Kendra stood off camera waving at me. I took the opportunity to excuse myself. Mayor Bostwick glared at me, but what could he do but fire me later?

  “Missing islanders? Can you give us the names and descriptions of the individuals? I’m sure we could help get the word out, Chief.”

  “I’ll get them for you. I didn’t know we were having a press conference, or I would have had that prepared. Give my staff a few minutes to gather the info. Will you please excuse me?”

  Kendra covered her mouth and whispered to me, “One of the missing people, Emily LaFonte, has been found. She’s alive, but just barely. Your friends Nike and Ramara dragged her out of the sea. She’s on her way to the hospital on the mainland, but they want to talk to you. They saw something.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Now there were two local stations and a national television station setting up for interviews. “Come on, let’s talk in here.”

  Kendra waved Nik and Ramara over, and the four of us hustled past the growing crowd of media and into one of the unused rooms of the Dauphin Island Air Force Station. The place had been shuttered since the ’80s, but recently the Coast Guard and local marine biologists had begun using it again. The buildings had been opened today and used for storage and meeting places. The room smelled like wet sand and old paint, but it was the best we could do for privacy at the moment.

  Ramara whispered in Nik’s ear, and she nodded at him. I didn’t like seeing that one damn bit. “You need to tell me something?” I said, anxious to hurry this along. I had better things to do than watch the woman I was crushing on hook up with some other guy. And he wasn’t even a guy. Aw, crap. Neither was I, not one hundred percent. She wasn’t human either, for that matter. Kendra stared at me as if to say, Get it together, Castille.

  “We thought you might like to know that Minerva is lurking in the waters off the island. She’s here because of Meri.”

  I scratched my head and replaced my hat. I didn’t have time to figure out puzzles. “What does that mean? What’s Minerva? Some kind of fish? Bottom-line it, please. I kinda have my hands full, what with a tidal wave and all.”

  “Hey! She’s trying to tell you that this isn’t over. Minerva isn’t a fish—she’s a mermaid, and a very powerful one at that. She’s not even supposed to be here. Meri is one of her shimmer.”

  “Shimmer?” Another stupid question. I was on a roll today.

  “Yes, Cruise. That’s what they call a group of mermaids—a shimmer. You’re missing the point, though. Minerva caused the tidal wave—it was a warning shot, and there’s more to come if we don’t appease her.”

  Kendra broke into the conversation. “How do we do that?”

  “She wants Meri. She obviously doesn’t know what happened to her daughter.” Nike chewed the inside of her lip and brushed a mass of brown tendrils out of her face. God, she was sexy. She had sand in her hair and had never looked more beautiful. What the heck is wrong with me? This is no time to be thinking like a teenager.

  “The mermaid never came back, did she? What does Heliope say about this? Wasn’t she a part of that?”

  “She says she left Meri with the Order, but obviously that message didn’t get to Minerva because she’s here churning up the water and pretty pissed off. And I was Meri’s friend. Minerva is going to hold me accountable for what happened to her.” Nike paced the small room, kicking at a forgotten piece of paper.

  “You sure know how to treat your friends,” Kendra said under her breath, her short temper shining through. Even I wouldn’t have said that, and there was nothing wrong with Nike’s hearing. Ramara broke in to stop the inevitable argument.

  “Hey, no finger-pointing right now, please. Listen, we didn’t have to tell you a damn thing, but we’re here. We want to help you protect what we have here—and the people, of course. Of all races. We’ll find Heliope and see what else she can tell us about Meri. Just be prepared. If I were you, I would make sure everyone got off this island until we can figure out how to get rid of Minerva.”

  “How can we do that?” Kendra asked. “The mayor is never going to go for that.”

  “We just won’t ask him. I don’t need his permission to order an evacuation of the island.”

  Everyone looked uncertain, but I was adamant. “Seriously. I know what I’m talking about. Who here besides me went to the police academy?”

  Kendra raised her hand with a glare.

  “The point is, I can do this. I might be out of a job afterwards, but I can do it at least once. If it means keeping everyone safe, it’s a no-brainer.”

  Nobody tried talking me out of it so I said, “I’ll go out there now and give the order. Then when the place is empty, we can do what we have to do.”

  “Come on, Cruise. What? We’re going to fight a mermaid? They are in the water. We’re shifters, in case you didn’t remember that. You haven’t even experienced a full shift yet. And for your further information, we don’t shift into sharks—we’re wolves,” Kendra said with a snort. She wasn’t having any of this nonsense, as she liked to say. But it wasn’t because she was fearful. Kendra had buckets full of brave. She was worried about how I'd handle my shifter powers in a fight…and she had every reason to be. I didn't have a clue. She continued, “There are going to be choppers everywhere, news media, even after you evacuate the island. You can’t keep the press out, dude. And I’m sure none of this has escaped the Order, by the way,” Kendra added authoritatively.

  “Nobody says you have to be here,” Nik snapped at her, totally misinterpreting Kendra’s commentary. I heard Kendra growl, but I was pretty sure I was the only one who could discern it. Then I saw Nik’s face.

  Nope, I was wrong.

  A scuffle outside the window broke up the potential catfight. I heard someone swear as they fell to the ground. I ran to the open window and stuck my head out. The jerky reporter was running around the corner. I only caught a glimpse of him, but his scent lingered behind. Kendra came up beside me sniffing too.

  “Who was that? Or better yet, what was that?”

  “The reporter, the one I was talking to earlier. The guy with the blond curly hair and expensive shoes. Chris Hanson.”

  She whispered to me, “Don’t trust him. He’s not our kind.”

  “But he helped me earlier. If it weren’t for him, nobody would have known we have people missing.”

  Kendra nodded. “Fine, but be careful. He’s a different kind of shifter.”

  “I better make the announcement before the media does it for me. Let’s catch up later. Call me, Nik.”

  “Sure. Thanks, Cruise.” No hug goodbye. No kiss for luck.

  I walked out, leaving Nik and Ramara behind, but Kendra was right beside me every step of the way. If nothing else, at least there was that.

  Chapter Nine—Nike
r />   Second Wave

  “I don’t like her.”

  “I think that’s pretty apparent, but we’ve got bigger fish to try.”

  Crazy to think that in the midst of all the “crazy” I could smile, but Ramara made it easy. “I think you mean fry.”

  He chuckled. “I see. Well, that too.” He was hanging out the open window now and not listening to me at all. “The wolves were right—that was a strange scent. And here’s another question, how did our spy get up here without a ladder? This building is a good three feet off the ground. And why would he go to all that trouble?”

  So strange hearing Cruise referred to as a wolf. I didn’t know what to think about all that. I’d not met any shifters until recently. I’d heard of them, of course, but I imagined them to be hairy and kind of crazy. Cruise was neither of those things. I looked down and saw that Ramara was right about the height. “That is weird. Maybe he had a friend helping him. A tall friend with big shoulders.” I nudged his arm playfully and said, “We better go find Heliope. We don’t have time to get involved with their shifter-drama.”

  “Right.” We left the building, skirted the crowd and made a beeline for my car.

  “Oh my goodness. I left poor Springer in the house today. Poor guy. I hope Heliope thought to let him out. If not, he’s probably torn my house up, hopefully not as bad as the last time.” I started to say more but remembered sweeping and finding the scroll in the garbage can. All the power was out on the island, and I allowed myself a second to glance at my store. It felt like I hadn’t been there in so long.