by Chrys Cymri
‘Don’t go any closer,’ I warned as I hurried after her.
‘Yes,’ Morey called out, ‘remember what it did to Elisa.’
‘I haven’t forgotten.’ She tore the dress from her body, baring herself to the bright sun. The well-muscled chest expanded and rippled as she sent low sounds at the orcas. I placed myself behind her, wanting to avoid the physical force of her communication.
Tarkik responded. I winced as the pulse of his reply swirled around Sasha and tingled against my arms. Morey took refuge on my back. Several squeaks accompanied the low thrum, and I was certain I heard the word ‘newid’.
‘This kind of speech is easier in the water,’ Sasha grumbled as she turned to me. ‘Tarkik says he is eager to return to Alba, but he’s been affected by the chemicals in the pool. At the moment, he can’t change shape. He’ll have to be transported in his current form.’
‘Raven always takes us through several thin places to get to Abella’s shoal.’ I studied the orca. ‘Sometimes we go over deserts or other hot places. How long can he be out of the water in whale shape?’
‘Not long. He’d dry out and overheat.’
‘Then either the British government arranges transport to Scotland for Tarkik--’
Sasha said a sharp word which I pretended not to understand. ‘We don’t trust your government.’
‘Very wise,’ Morey said, his head pushing through my hair.
‘Or we need to find some way for Raven to transport him.’ I pulled out my iPhone and called up the text conversation with Sue. Tarkik willing to return. Need a way for a dragon to transport him safely. Will speak to vet and get back to you.
Then I thumbed along to Jen’s details. Help, please. How to transport an orca safely by dragon? Needs not to dry out.
‘We can’t do much more for now,’ I told Sasha. ‘You’re welcome to come to my house. I don’t live that far away. When we have a solution to the orca travel issue, we can come straight back here.’
Sasha shook her head. ‘Tarkik won’t like that.’
‘I don’t know how long it’ll be before I’ll hear back from either the minister or the veterinarian,’ I said. ‘And I don’t like the idea of leaving you near water which is poisonous to merpeople.’
‘And surely Tarkik wouldn’t want another death in his pool,’ Morey added. ‘Or for your shoal to lose another member.’
Sasha took a deep breath. I sensed the message throb from her chest. Tarkik thrashed in response, and I grabbed her arm to drag her away from his splashes. The merwoman threw off my hand and spoke in Welsh. ‘Rhaid i chi aros. Rydym yn cynllunio teithio ddiogel.’
The orca stilled. Tarkik had come further out the water, and I bit my lip as I looked at the massive black and white body. He was around twenty feet long, not much shorter than Raven. I couldn’t see how one dragon on his own could carry Tarkik, even before the added weight of whatever might be used to protect the orca on his journey.
Sasha repeated her words, reassuring the orca that we would return. Tarkik whistled, then slid back into his pool. I looked around the small enclosure, then over to the other water enclosures. Midlands WaterWorld held seven orcas and at least a dozen dolphins. I wished there were some way to free all of them.
‘Tyra,’ Raven said as I returned to the spectators’ area. ‘She’ll help me to carry Tarkik.’
‘You have sharp ears,’ I commented as I climbed up his neck. ‘Can you also understand what Sasha and Tarkik say to each other?’
‘I only understand ocean speak when I’m in the water.’ Raven curved his neck to look past me. When Sasha was settled, he extended his wings and launched us towards the blue sky.
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‘I don’t know what to offer you,’ I told Sasha as she took a seat at the table. Both the kitchen clock and my stomach told me it was lunch time. ‘I don’t have any fresh fish, just tuna in cans.’
‘I’ve learned to eat what I’ve been offered,’ she said in a resigned tone. ‘Is there any way I could immerse myself in water?’
I nodded. ‘I can run you a bath. But it’ll be fresh water, and there might be some chemicals in it.’
Morey left my shoulder to land on the counter. ‘Water is a chemical.’
‘Clever clogs. You know what I mean.’ I placed a glass under the cold tap and half filled it. ‘That’s what it’ll be like. There won’t be as many chemicals in it as there were in the WaterWorld pool.’
I left Sasha sniffing at the water as I collected bread, cheese, and tuna. Morey shook out his wings, glided to the floor, and went out through the cat flap. Our flight over the vicarage had revealed that Skylar’s car was missing, so I only called out my brother’s name from the bottom of the stairs.
James took in the merwoman at a glance, his eyes only glancing the once at her bare breasts. They exchanged names, and then he pulled off his light fleece. ‘Here. It’s a bit colder in the house than outside. You might want to put this on.’
Sasha’s eyes narrowed. I had the feeling that she knew the true reasons for James’ offer. But she accepted the garment, pulling the blue material over her head. ‘Thank you.’
James did his best to engage her in conversation as he put together his sandwich. The merwoman’s responses were as short as possible. I wondered if she were unwell, tired, or simply not interested in conversation with a human male. She picked at the tuna, drank some of the water, and I was relieved when neither seemed to have any negative effect.
The cat flap rattled, and Clyde slid inside, followed by Jago. Sasha suddenly brightened. ‘A snail!’ She reached down, lifted him to the table, and held out her right hand. Her skin colour changed to oranges, greens, and blues. Clyde pulsed colours in return.
Jago leapt from the floor to my leg, and from there to the table. ‘You can speak snail shark?’
‘I often visit ocean snail colonies,’ Sasha said. ‘This one has a rather strange accent.’
‘I don’t understand everything you’re saying to him,’ Jago retorted, his crest rising high above his head. ‘But maybe someone living underwater has different things to say than a snail on land.’
‘That could be it.’ Sasha lowered her hand and looked over at me. ‘I’ll risk that bath.’
‘No problem.’ I took her upstairs, showed her how to use the taps, and placed a towel and a bathrobe at her disposal.
When I returned to the kitchen, James had cleared the table and the kettle was gurgling. I took a seat and watched in pleased amazement as he made two cups and two bowls of tea. As we sipped at our drinks, I wondered if this had come from Skylar’s influence.
Clyde aimed his eyespots at Jago and blues and purples trickled down his tentacles. The gryphon dipped his head in a nod and turned his gaze to my brother. ‘Uncle James, you know that Uncle Clyde wants to train to be a priest?’
‘Sort of, maybe, yes.’ James shifted in his chair. ‘Penny’s the one to talk to about things like that.’
‘He’s talked to an archdeacon and he’s going to see a bishop soon.’ Jago leapt onto Clyde’s shell. Afternoon sunlight made his grey feathers shimmer with twists of blues and greens. ‘And if Uncle Clyde does go off to train, he’s going to need an interpreter.’
‘Well, yes, it’s not like lots of people speak snail.’ Then James leaned back in his chair. ‘But you do.’
‘His sign language helps,’ Jago said. ‘I use that and his colours. But he’ll need me with him to speak to other people.’
‘Take time to think it over,’ I told him. ‘You have to want this for yourself.’
‘Yes,’ Clyde agreed.
‘I’ve talked it over with Uncle Clyde, and he’s said the same thing. I think it’ll be neat to spend some time at a Bible school.’
James groaned. ‘Better you than me.’
Jago’s crest lifted high above his head. ‘I like the debates my Tad and Uncle Clyde have. They’re really interesting.’
‘Theological college can be a place for great debates,’
I agreed. ‘Or even door slamming rows.’
Jago leapt over to James’ arm. ‘But it means I have to leave. Leave here. Leave you.’
‘I kind of guessed that.’ James stretched out a forefinger and scratched the gryphon’s head. ‘Like Pen said, is this what you really want?’
‘Yes. But I told Uncle Clyde that I’d have to ask you first.’
I found myself holding my breath. My brother’s face was flushed, and for a moment I feared that he would make life difficult for his friend. But James took a deep breath. ‘You don’t have ask me for anything.’
‘You saved my life--’
‘And I’m very glad I did.’ James scooped Jago into his palm and lifted the gryphon so they could look eye to eye. ‘But that doesn’t mean you have spend the rest of your life with me. You have to do what you want to do, Jago. And if this is what you want, then do it. Okay?’
For a long moment man and gryphon looked at each other. Then Jago said, ‘Okay.’ He rubbed his head against James’ chin, then hopped down to the ground. Snail and then gryphon pushed themselves through the cat flap and went into the back garden.
James rose to look out the window. ‘They grow up so suddenly.’
‘Yes,’ I said, gazing at my brother. ‘They certainly do.’
Chapter Twenty
The last parent and child combination left the church. Skylar closed the door behind them as I staggered to a pew. My curate showed no signs of the weariness which I felt. ‘Thirty adults!’ she exulted. ‘And forty children!’
‘Our first Messy Church went rather well,’ I agreed, although my heart sank at the sight of glitter in the carpet, fruit peelings on the pews, and the number of broken crayons scattered across the floor. ‘Well done, good and faithful curate.’
‘I knew it was worth promoting this through the school.’ Skylar glanced around. ‘And now for the clearing up.’
‘You get started, I’ll join you in a moment.’ I felt a knee creak as I rose to my feet. ‘I need to check the reserved sacrament. You’ll need to do Communion by Extension tomorrow. I’ll be busy returning a were-orca to Alba.’
Clouds had built up over the course of the afternoon. The lack of light in the corner which held the tabernacle made me carry the ciborium to the altar. I took the lid off the silver container, checked the number of wafers, and decided that there was more than enough to cover the six people who attended the Friday communion service.
As I carried the receptacle back to the tabernacle, my foot caught on a tile. I stumbled forwards, determined not to spill the consecrated bread. My arm bashed against the corner of the altar, and I fell heavily onto my hands and knees. The ciborium clanged against the hard floor, but the lid stayed on as it rolled to the wall. ‘Well, yes, look after yourself, why don’t you,’ I told God as I stood up, my right knee aching. ‘Don’t you worry about me.’
Several bats fluttered down as I hobbled over to the container. ‘Are you injured, Father Penny?’ Angwyn asked after he’d shifted to human form.
‘Nothing’s broken,’ I assured him, keeping my eyes on his face.
‘Can we assist you?’ asked a female vampire.
‘The church needs a thorough cleaning,’ I said lightly, expecting them to immediately revert to bats again and fly back up to the ceiling.
‘Certainly.’ The magister looked upwards. ‘Come on, everyone. This is our church too!’
I watched in amazement as the colony landed around me. They marched down the aisle and collected brooms, brushes, and rags from the tower room. Skylar worked alongside them, laughing at their jokes and pointing to escaped crayons. The distaste they had once shown my curate seemed to have disappeared.
With over thirty pairs of hands, the church was quickly restored to her normal dignity. The vampires flew back to their usual roost. I paused by the door, taking in a deep breath of the mixed smell of polish, flowers, and incense.
‘It’s a good place to be,’ Skylar said beside me. ‘St Wulfram’s.’
‘Yes,’ I found myself agreeing. ‘It is.’
We emerged to the sight of a double decker bus and a throng of people in sharp suits and colourful dresses. Skylar pointed at the couple standing near the west end of the church. ‘Is that a bride? And her groom?’
‘And their photographers.’ I turned to lock the door, then led her up the gravel path to the church gate. ‘It’s happened before. They’ve probably had their wedding in town, either at the registry office or one of the newer churches. They come here for the photos because St Wulfram’s makes a much prettier backdrop.’
‘Then why not get married here in the first place?’
I waited until we were inside the Golf before replying. ‘I’ve talked to you about marriage law, remember? You can’t just choose whatever church you want for your wedding, not in the Church of England. If you don’t already live in the parish, you need to have a qualifying connection.’
‘Through residency, baptism, confirmation, or if your parents lived in the parish or if your grandparents were married in the church,’ Skylar rattled off. ‘But they can also qualify by attending services for six months.’
‘In my experience,’ I said, ‘most couples find it onerous enough to attend three Sundays to hear their banns being read.’
‘Maybe all they need is an invitation.’ Skylar opened the car door. I watched as she hurried back down the path. Wedding guests listened politely as she moved through the crowd. Part of me admired her enthusiasm as she handed out yet another flyer. A larger part, however, looked at the clock on my dashboard and wondered if I’d have time for a cup of tea before going out for a baptism visit.
I was engrossed in a debate on Facebook when Skylar finally returned. ‘What did you say to them?’ I asked as I reversed the Golf out of our parking spot.
‘That all those who put their trust in Christ will be present at his marriage feast to the Church, his bride. And that spending an hour in church on a Sunday morning is worth paying in order to gain eternity.’
‘Oh, very good,’ I said, although inwardly I was cringing. ‘We’ll see if any of them actually come.’
‘They will,’ Skylar declared with a confidence I didn’t share.
The car parked near the vicarage made me slam on the Golf’s brakes in surprise. Skylar gasped as we were both thrown against our seat belts. ‘What’s wrong?’
The sudden stop had stalled the engine. I re-started the car and drove her onto the drive. ‘That’s Bishop Nigel’s Nissan Leaf. Why’s he here? Did I miss something? Was I supposed to be meeting with him?’
We hurried into the house. I paused in the hallway, but heard no sound of voices. A quick glance in the living room showed no signs of a purple-shirted man. The study was also clear. When I went into the kitchen, I saw that Bishop Nigel was sitting on the outside bench. Clyde rested next to him, tentacles writhing and various colours chasing through his body. Jago was perched on the Bishop’s shoulder, obviously serving as translator.
‘Hi, Sis, Skylar.’ James grinned as he joined us. ‘You know I’m not big on the Church, but it’s great that someone high up like Nigel comes out to talk to a snail.’
‘I didn’t know he was coming,’ I said. ‘Did you?’
James nodded. ‘His chaplain booked it with me. She said you’d only flap if you knew, so maybe it was better that you didn’t.’
‘I do not flap,’ I said indignantly. ‘Has he been offered a cup of tea? Coffee? Biscuits? A wee dram of whisky?’
‘And I rest my case.’ My brother stepped around me to give Skylar a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Still free tonight? There’s a new American diner I think you’d like. Their hamburgers are supposed to be the best outside of Texas.’
‘Sounds great.’ Skylar tapped my shoulder. ‘Penny? Aren’t you supposed to be going out to see the Thompsons?’
‘Yes,’ I said reluctantly. Bishop Nigel was speaking, but I couldn’t hear a word of what he was saying. I went into the study and dialled the Thomp
sons’ number. ‘Hello, Alice? It’s Penny. Could I meet you about an hour later than we’d planned? I’ve been delayed at home.’ An affirmative noise came down the phone. ‘Great. See you at six.’
I sat down in my chair and tried not to glance out the window every few seconds. The minutes ticked by as I answered some emails and updated the parish Facebook page with photos of the Messy Church afternoon. By the time Bishop Nigel finally rose from the bench, I’d managed to change my computer’s desktop picture twice, comment on several Facebook postings, and ponder the wisdom of joining Instagram.
‘Penny, lovely to see you,’ the Bishop said as I opened the back door. ‘It’s been an interesting afternoon.’
‘The garden’s not usually in that state,’ I blurted.
Bishop Nigel chuckled. ‘Yes, it is, but I’m of the firm opinion that clergy have the right to decide what they do with their gardens. The long grass is certainly good for wildlife.’
‘And snail sharks.’
‘And snail sharks.’ His grey suit jacket had been left on a chair, and he reached over to tug it free. ‘And, yes, I’ll be recommending Clyde to Bishop Aeron. I certainly feel that he has a vocation to ordained ministry.’
I found myself smiling. ‘Clyde must be thrilled.’
‘He is, although he’s under no illusions about the barriers he will face.’ The Bishop headed towards the hallway, and I followed in his wake. ‘Your friendship will be very important to him.’
‘We’ll all support him,’ I said as we reached the front door. ‘We’re his family.’
Bishop Nigel paused on the doorstep. ‘That’s something I do admire about you.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your ability to look past a person’s physical attributes and accept them for who they are, not what they are.’ He gripped my arm with one strong hand. ‘It makes you an excellent Vicar General. I’m so pleased I appointed you to that role.’
