Shifter's Storm Page 9

  “There she is,” said Omorachi. “Better stay upwind of her, though.” She leaned in toward Chantal conspiratorially and pinched her nose. “Right rank, she is.”

  Chantal made a dismissive sound. “We don’t deal in humans.” She allowed her eyebrows to rise in question. “Unless she’s got shifter-mate potential?”

  Trixis shook her head. “No, that’s the cougar. You’ll see.” She crossed to the table and picked up a slender crystal wand to point at Nibi. Bending over an oversized book on the table, she flipped to a bookmarked page and spoke the words of a spell in a language Chantal didn’t recognize.

  She felt the raw power, though. It took all she had to hang on to her human skin. Dauro’s words in her mind urging her to stay with him distracted her leopard long enough for the power to dissipate. She sent him grateful thanks.

  Nibi’s scream of pain transitioned into an unhappy feline yowl as she morphed into a large cougar with copper-colored scales and webbed toes. The change only took seconds and left her panting on the floor. Shifter magic and something more eldritch blew through the room in gusts.

  Chantal pasted a grin on her face, glad the room was shadowed enough to hide her lying eyes. “Oh, yeah, now we’re talking.”

  Get both fairies to drink more dew, said Dauro.

  “Er,” said Chantal. “I’m not supposed to talk prices, but I think you’re going to have a fantastic sale.” She gestured toward the half-empty bee-shaped crystal decanter on the table with glowing chartreuse contents. “If it was me, I’d be toasting with the good stuff to celebrate.”

  Omorachi twirled toward the table, holding up her goblet. “More!”

  Trixis absently sidestepped left to grab the decanter and pour a splash on the proffered goblet. Omorachi slammed it back like she was in a contest.

  Instead of pouring for herself, Trixis paused, expression distant, then put the decanter back down.

  Chantal cast about for inspiration on how to get the damn rock fairy to drink the damn dew.

  She’s greedy, suggested Dauro.

  Chantal took a half step toward the table. “Mind if I try a sip before it’s gone? Nessireth’s dew collection is legendary.” She let some of her leopard’s sly possessiveness show in her smile.

  Trixis’s grip tightened. “No, we don’t have any extra.” With a defiant glare, she took a long draught straight from the decanter.

  The eldritch magic flared again. This time, Chantal knew it came from Nibi.

  The fairies suddenly wilted like spent flowers. Omorachi ended up in a heap on the floor, arms spread in a perfect ballerina circle. Trixis lay across the table like a doll, half on and half off, face flat on the table, her nose inches from the corner of the book.

  Keeping her eye on the fairies, Chantal edged toward Nibi and spoke quietly. “Impressive. Can you walk?”

  Nibi rose to her feet, tail swishing. Her eyes gleamed bright gold-flecked green as she began padding toward the wide doorway out.

  Book, reminded Dauro. And find the bracelet that looks like a kraken.

  Chantal glided to the table. As she eased the big, thick book away from the snoozing fairy, she realized it was too big to fit inside her shirt, so she’d have to carry it. She wanted to smash the force-shift wand, but didn’t dare, in case the magic explosion woke the fairies.

  Tension tightened her shoulders as she scanned the hodge-podge collection on the table, feeling time slipping away. At last, she found the kraken bracelet and slipped it onto her wrist. On impulse, she stuffed several smaller charms into the bellows pocket of her pants, then scooped up the book and strode toward the exit.

  The closer she got, the warmer the book became. Anti-theft spell, maybe?

  Stop, Sunscar ordered. Speak these sounds exactly.

  She halted before the threshold and whispered each syllable. The book cooled at once. She launched into a jog to catch up to Nibi-the-cougar. Demesne magic greeted her as soon as she was outside, inviting her to play.

  Dauro, said Chantal, the water will ruin the book. Is that what you want?

  After a long moment, Dauro replied. The capricorns say it’s waterproof. Nessireth brought it with her when she visited their submerged grotto.

  Was she waterproof? asked Chantal.

  No more than you are. That’s what the bracelet is for. Rosinette knows the spell.

  She’s awake, then?

  We had to. Dauro answered her next question before she asked. Her wings are mending, but weak. She’s beautiful.

  Chantal smiled at the loving regard he had for his friend. She was glad he’d chosen what her aunt called the open-heart path instead of building high walls and closing himself off. Just last week, she’d been complaining about missing her friends for a few months. Four hundred years would be an unbearably long time to be cold and lonely.

  Ahead, Nibi veered from the bridge path and headed toward the river bank. The water seemed to rise to embrace her as she gracefully leapt in and vanished without a splash.

  Chantal clutched the book to her chest and stood at the edge. Suddenly, the kraken bracelet flared to life.

  Come on in, said Dauro. Rosinette triggered the spell.

  Cautiously, she stepped into the water. A thin, elastic bubble formed around her legs as she waded in, keeping her dry. Right before her head went under, she took a deep breath, then ducked under.

  The pygmy hippo swam by, wiggling his tail, making her smile.

  Follow Kelvin, said Dauro. And no need to hold your breath.

  Instinct said otherwise, but she made herself let go of her air and breathe in. Luckily, the charm did its job. Good thing, too, because her next step took her over the silty bank edge and into the flow.

  The river was much deeper and darker than she’d imagined. She could almost see the demesne magic in the water, dancing on the outside of her bubble, parting for her like tiny schools of curious fish.

  The current was stronger than she’d imagined, too. She kicked with her feet and freed one hand to help herself stay on course behind Kelvin. It was sort of like the slow-motion version of riding a bicycle down a steep hill on a windy day, with only her forward momentum to keep her from being blown away.

  A flash of bone-white startled her. It took her a couple of glances to realize it was Sunscar’s albino eel form, spiraling around her. He was wider than her thigh and longer than she was tall.

  Sorry we’re scaring you, said Dauro. He sent comforting thoughts her way.

  She wanted to deny the fear, but Dauro already knew. I’m a bad swimmer.

  You’re not a... Dauro trailed off. A flash of anger came from him. Oh, I see. Those kids nearly drowned you.

  Sunscar had warned them about stray memories.

  Sorry you had to get that one. She’d almost forgotten it. They didn’t mean to.

  I’ll go swimming with you next time, offered Kelvin. They won’t bother you again. I bite hard.

  Thanks. His protectiveness touched her. They’re all grown now.

  The shadow below her that grew as she swam deeper turned out to be Dauro. He looked serene and graceful as he glided through the water.

  Below him, a brilliant flash of red-orange and black resolved into the outstretched wings of a sea wyvern the color of a fire opal.

  Rosinette, said Chantal, trusting that Sunscar’s net was still open, you are even more beautiful than Dauro said.

  Her telepathic reply also came as soft echoes of wyvern music to Chantal’s human ears. “You are kind to say so.”

  Swim to that stone footing, said Dauro, and pick up our treasures. He sent her an image of a woven sea-grass bag. You’ll have to hold the pearl and speak the spell.

  What footing? asked Chantal. I only see Rosinette because she glows.

  I’ll show you, said Sunscar, but don’t touch me.

  A bright curving ribbon of eel-shaped illuminated the watery depths.

  Suddenly she could see Dauro’s greenish-brown fur, Nibi’s dark coppery form, and the pale caprico
rns, tails linked.

  Kelvin suddenly shot upward from the riverbed toward the surface. Dauro angled up after him.

  He’s afraid of me, said Sunscar, regret coloring his thoughts.

  Chantal sent sympathy. Law enforcement officers get that a lot, too. It’s tough to be hated on instinct, especially when you’re helping.

  The stone footing belled out to a wide, rimmed ledge before plunging into the riverbed. She swam to it, then managed to get her feet on the ledge and hook one boot toe into a crevice. Luckily, the bubble seemed very flexible. Someone had helpfully carved ridges she could grab on to for stability.

  That was me, said Nibi with amusement. It’s my scratching post.

  Chantal laughed as she crouched to find the flat, pillow-like bag on the ledge, stuck in a splat of sticky mud. Prying it loose with the bubble between her and the bag was even less fun than wearing welding gloves to pick up a paperclip. She decided not to ask what had been used for glue.

  Her world plunged into darkness.

  Sorry, said Sunscar. I can’t generate the charge any longer.

  Thank you, replied Chantal. It’s a clever way to use your eel’s electricity.

  Rosinette’s voice sounded stronger as she spoke in the watery music. “I’m sending lights.”

  A stream of will-o-the-wisps arose and swarmed around Chantal’s ledge like giant fireflies.

  When she looked down, she noticed that her personal air bubble was slowly enveloping the wet bag, bringing it into her space. The subtle pulse of various magics in the bag strengthened once the bubble fully surrounded it.

  She rested the book on her thighs, then gently pried open the bag’s loosely sewn top and pulled out the small gray pearl.

  She nearly dropped it when the magic sparked and spoke.

  “Where would you like to go today, Brightest Star Rock Ruler Nessireth Amethyst Dolomite Felgranum, Owner of the Best Collections Ever?” The voice was loud, low, and gravely, like the sound of crushing rocks formed into words.

  Magic pressure rose. She sent a slightly panicked thought to Dauro. I need the portal pearl spell now while this thing still thinks I’m the former owner.

  “Er, do you have a name?” It wasn’t what she’d planned to ask, but it felt right. She yawned against the rising pressure.

  The voice finally answered. “I am Pearl of the demesne.”

  In her mind, Rosinette spoke the words slowly, with a layer of music that wormed into her brain. She repeated them aloud just as slowly and carefully. Because it felt right, she used demesne magic to shape the words as keys as she spoke.

  Sweat dripped down her neck. The unabated pressure of magic hurt her head as the voice spoke. “You are not Nessireth.”

  Chantal gulped. “No. I’m a guest who accepted the gift of the pearl. Is that a problem?”

  After five of the longest seconds of her life, the voice spoke.

  “No.”

  The magic pressure dropped precipitously, making her feel almost dizzy with relief.

  “Where would you like to go today, Speak Your Name Here?”

  Her very magical mother often said charms occasionally needed rebooting, just like mundane computers. Somehow, they must have met the magical requirements of the charm and caused it to reset.

  “What are my choices?”

  It wasn’t safe to keep holding the tiny pearl, but it probably required skin contact. After a few seconds of thought, she opened her shirt and pushed the pearl into her camisole and bra, under her breast. It only felt odd for a moment.

  “Castle cellar. Magic vault. Studio. Six habitats. Trade door. Four anchors.” After a pause, it added, “Only the central anchor is available at this time.”

  Dauro, are you and the others hearing this?

  Yes, he replied. Yipkash says the anchor. That’s where you first met them.

  “Pearl, please open a large portal to the central anchor point at ground level.” She focused her will to envision an entry big enough to fit a giant aquatic sloth and a sea wyvern.

  Nothing happened.

  Chantal, said Dauro, tell it where to start the portal.

  Clearly, she shouldn’t have overslept so often for Beginning Fairy Portals class.

  “Pearl, please set the opening in the water under the bridge.”

  “As you command.”

  Demesne magic deafened her magical senses. The free-floating strands in the water became orderly arrows, heading toward a tiny point of light centered below her. Rosinette pushed away hastily with a musical yelp as the light became an expanding gold ring.

  Water roiled, creating chaotic waves that sent Sunscar tumbling until he swam out of it.

  Currents buffeted Chantal as she clutched the bag and book tightly with one arm and clung to the pillar ridge.

  The pearl’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Portable portal paused until trade-door portal stabilizes.”

  “What?”

  We’re clusterfucked! snarled Sunscar in their minds. That’s what the castle statues use.

  No, said Nibi, they have their own near the tall trees.

  Chantal, said Rosinette, ask the demesne.

  Okay. Except she didn’t know how to get its attention, much less talk to it.

  As she shoved the wet treasure bag into her shirt with the pink crystal, she thought back to when the demesne had wanted to help her heal Kelvin. Like it was looking for something to do.

  Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and fired up a little of her free magic to create the faint illusion of a security monitor, like human-world guards used. She imagined it showed a glowing door.

  Demesne magic swirled around and through her bubble in whorls, then solidified the image, morphing the door into a wide, warehouse-style door, and adding detail to the surrounding area. From stray memories that weren’t hers, she recognized Rosinette’s grove.

  She shaped words as magic. Who is behind the door?

  The solid door became transparent, revealing a man and a woman, with overlays of hyena heads, suggesting they were shifters. Between them, a human woman held up a wand in one hand and a glowing charm in the other. Behind them loomed three massive trucks, each laden with two giant cages each. A fourth truck held more shifters of various species and tanks with two creatures that looked like giant sea urchins with starfish arms and legs, and glowing gems above their multiple eyes.

  Shifter wranglers.

  Can you delay them? she asked.

  Demesne magic swirled in turbulent consternation.

  Dauro’s memories reminded her that the drunken fairies had ordered the demesne to let the wranglers in and be nice.

  Hastily, she changed her illusion to show a wide, flat road that would support the trucks. This would be a nice gesture, she suggested, so they can travel comfortably.

  Demesne magic danced, played on her bubble again, then vanished.

  It’s the hunters, she told Dauro and the others. I may have talked the demesne into sending them the long way around the far perimeter.

  Sunscar swam upward fast. I will track them. Go without me if the portal opens before I get back.

  Chantal felt a wave of sadness from Dauro, and sent him sympathy and a wordless query.

  I’m afraid he means to sacrifice himself to save us. It’s what he thinks he was made for.

  The portal pearl’s rocky voice spoke. “Portal commencing.”

  An unexpected underwater jet ripped Chantal from her ledge. Frantically tightening her hold on the book, she tried to kick with her feet, but the current ignored her feeble efforts. Mage lights trailed after her, trying to keep up.

  The currents began to curve into a visible whirlpool, transforming into the gold-colored rings of a portal. Her shoulder slammed hard into another bridge footing, threatening to loosen her hold on the book.

  Help, she sent. I need to be at the portal’s edge so my crystal fools the unauthorized passage defenses.

  On my way, replied Dauro. Kelvin, go to the capricorns. Nibi an
d Rosinette, join them when you can.

  The next moment, Chantal found herself wrapped in a paw and pressed on her side against Dauro’s chest. She curled her legs up to help cradle the book. His long claws extended past his shoulder. She didn’t mind when coarse strands of his thick fur infiltrated her personal bubble to tickle her ear. For the first time since entering the water, she felt safe.

  Pressure from the forming portal pushed her magical senses into overdrive. The pink crystal inside her shirt got warmer the closer Dauro got to the still-growing gold rings of light.

  It’s nothing I can explain, she told them all, and I don’t know how, but I think we all need to go through at the same time.

  Leave that to us, said Nibi. Work your magic.

  The color of the water began to change as it swirled over and around the portal. Bright yellow rays of sunlight lit up the whole underwater portion of the bridge. The collection of captives stood poised on the river bottom, focused on the ring.

  The portal solidified. A rush of water bowed into the opening like a balloon filling.

  Now! ordered Nibi.

  Dauro swam forward.

  Close your eyes when you go through, Chantal warned him, worried the tropical sun would hurt his dark-adapted eyes.

  The crystal seared her stomach. Frantically, she asked the demesne magic to help her and her friends through the portal, then close it behind them. And because it seemed like the right thing to do, she promised she’d come back to play soon.

  Everything stilled for a long moment, and then she and Dauro fell in a tumble of air and water toward a wide pool of rainbow-colored fairy magic.

  Frantically calling her own magic, she asked the pool to give her friends the softest landing possible.

  9

  Dauro clung to the treasure in his paws and dropped through the portal.

  Unfamiliar heat and very familiar pain wracked him. He was being force-shifted to human as he fell.

  To his deep shame, he couldn’t hang on to Chantal as his body remade itself. With the ground rushing toward him, he regretted not telling her that he loved her. Once again, he’d waited until too late to say important things.