Dead in the Water (Gemini: A Black Dog Series Book 1) Read online

  “You didn’t have to,” I stated the obvious. “What options does she have?”

  All those clothes and hair products didn’t come cheap. I might not be a girly girl, but as often as I traveled, I had gotten lost in my share of superstore aisles and gaped at the seven dollar tubes of lipstick and ten dollar tubes of foundation. It cost a fortune to wear enough cosmetics that it appeared you wore none. Faced with a crimp in her income, of course Harlow would jump at the chance to earn fast cash.

  “I put her up at a hotel in town.” He chose to regard my question as rhetorical. “I’ll send someone to pick her up when we’re ready.”

  Disappointment sapped the fight out of me. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  His jaw flexed. “Someone has to.”

  Graeson set off toward the shack at a clipped pace, and I watched him go. Dell shrank into herself, and it frayed my last nerve.

  “He doesn’t care what it costs the rest of us as long as he gets what he wants.” The kelpie had to be brought down, but I was afraid Harlow would take the fall. “Does he have a conscience at all?”

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier,” she said softly. “He gave his grief to the pack.”

  “Gave it away? That’s something a warg can just hand over?” Her gaze darted from left to right before she nodded, and my stomach cramped. “As in he no longer feels it?”

  “We took it and spread it out among ourselves. That’s why he’s in my head. The pack bond is always present, but usually it’s muted to give us all our privacy. Cord has to keep his mind wide open so we can sort of… It’s hard to explain. It’s like siphoning the negative energy. Right now he’s an open book, and your name is scribbled on a lot of pages.”

  A flush spread up my nape. “How long will it last?”

  “A few days, maybe a week. That’s why he’s pushing so hard. He’s running out of time. The grief was eating his mind. He couldn’t think for replaying the last time he saw Marie. They fought over something stupid. She wanted to go to the movies with a boy, and he said no. She yelled hurtful things, stormed off to her best friend’s house then didn’t come home. He blames himself for what happened.” Her voice wavered. “He’s our beta. Her death happened on Chandler pack land. It’s his duty—as second to Bessemer and as her brother—to find her killer and punish him. If Cord doesn’t deliver before the next full moon, then the first order of business will be an open challenge on him for his position, and Cord is too dominant to let that happen. He’ll fight to the death before he’s demoted. It’s instinct.”

  I spat a string of curses. “What kind of leader throws his own people to the wolves?” Literally.

  Wargs valued strength, both physical and emotional. I got that. They were all about survival of the fittest. I got that too. But the man had lost his sister. And his alpha, who should have been sympathetic, had set Graeson on the kelpie’s trail with an ultimatum. No wonder he was bending all the rules. This was about more than Marie. It was about the rest of his life, his position within the pack. He was fighting for her memory as well as his own future.

  “Come on.” I grabbed Dell by the hand and dragged her toward the shack. “I need to have a chat with Mr. Machination about the rules before Harlow gets here.”

  Damn Graeson for his scheming. As furious as I was on Harlow’s behalf, I couldn’t walk away now. I was in too deep. There was a sliver of a chance Roni might still be alive. That was enough to keep me in line, and Graeson knew it. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him sacrifice us all in the name of revenge. As much as my palms itched to strangle him, one day his grief would rebound, and that was punishment enough as far as I was concerned.

  * * *

  Harlow arrived ten minutes after I retreated up the rickety stairs to my temporary quarters. Dell sat on the cot while I paced the room from end to end, which is to say I took five steps before I had to turn in order to take five more. The familiar ping of gravel bouncing off undercarriage drew me to the window.

  The younger witchy brother opened the rear passenger door of the SUV and offered Harlow his hand with a flourish of harmless gallantry that tempted my eyes toward the ceiling. She blushed prettily and allowed him to help her hop onto the ground.

  Tonight she wore her candy-bright hair in a French braid that complemented her Creamsicle orange tank top and tie-dyed postage-stamp-sized shorts. Even the straps on her wedge sandals matched. Factor in the serviceable brown leather bag she wore like a backpack, and the bright colors made her appear even younger, more innocent. The ball of anxiety in my gut tightened when she spotted me and waved with so much enthusiasm she wobbled in the gravel. The witch had to steady her by wrapping his arm around her waist.

  “They’re here,” I said more for myself than for Dell. With her hearing, she had probably tracked their impending arrival for several minutes. I blew out a breath and took the stairs at a clip. Two wargs were out on patrol. Two more stood on the porch. Another pair flanked Graeson, who occupied the center of the room with a clear view of the vehicle through the window. Miguel waited at the register with a bland expression, as if only his brother knew the secret to drawing out his fiery temper.

  The witch led Harlow up the steps and held the door for her. She spotted me, scuffed her shoe on the planks once then shuffled up to me. She slid her arms around my waist in a fragile hug I didn’t expect. I went tense, and she felt ready to break apart in my arms. The shock faded when her shoulders hitched in what I feared was a quiet sob, and I squeezed her back with everything I had.

  She didn’t thank me this time. The watery film covering her eyes when she looked at me did it for her.

  “How are you feeling?” I summoned the brightest smile in my repertoire, the Aunt Dot Special, the one I flashed when I got home from a long trip and she was waiting on my porch to welcome me with a kiss to my forehead and a hug that smelled of her homemade rose perfume.

  “The medics waved their magic wands over me.” She pulled back, and her fingers brushed her cheek dry. “They healed me before I had a chance to scar. It’s amazing what magic can accomplish these days.”

  Though she had just climbed the steps, I led her back out again. Warg hearing being what it was, we couldn’t venture far enough for true privacy, but at least I wouldn’t have to see them hanging on my every word and zapping mental commentary back and forth among themselves.

  “What happened at the Rebec place—” I began.

  “It’s okay. Really.” A wavy strand of her hair had come undone, and she wrapped it around her finger. “You did what you had to do. You saved me. Again.” She tugged on the curl. “I think you managed what Mom failed to do. You knocked some sense into me. I see now that I don’t belong here. On land, I mean. I thought it would be… But it isn’t. Guess I’m more fish than girl.” A tired exhale. “I’ve made it this far. Graeson is paying me out of pocket for this gig, and that’s money I need for the trip.” She glanced up. “I’m going to stick around until Charybdis is captured. After that I’m heading home. For good.”

  A pang arrowed through me. If Harlow returned to the sea, our paths would never cross again. Lakes were bad enough. An ocean? No. That was asking too much. I couldn’t face open water. Given Harlow’s experience topside with rage-mongering fae, I could hardly blame her for choosing the sea over land. Even if the water was no less dangerous, it was a familiar threat to her. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “I’m tougher than I look.” Harlow squared her shoulders. “I can do this.”

  “The kelpie is still down there.” Or so the witches claimed. “Can you fend him off alone?”

  “I can swim circles around him.” A smile touched her lips. “I’m a mermaid, remember?”

  An all-too-human one.

  Hinges groaned behind us, and I turned as Graeson stepped onto the porch. The wargs hovered behind him. “We don’t have much time,” he announced. “The Garzas’ latest divination places the kelpie in Butler, Tennessee this
time next week.”

  A prickle of unease lifted hairs down my arms. I didn’t want Charybdis in the same state as my family.

  “I’m ready when you are.” Harlow tugged on the strap of her backpack. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

  The beta looked at me with fierce, shining eyes when he said, “This ends tonight.”

  I hoped he was right.

  Chapter 15

  Sardis Lake reflected the moon in its belly. Insects skating over the surface of the water caused ripples as their slender legs glided. I stood at the base of the pier where the Tanner sisters had gone fishing, the closest I had come to this particular site. A knocking sound made me frown. I scanned the night for its source while praying it wasn’t my knees.

  “It’s not too late to call in the conclave,” I murmured, wary of fuzzy ears picking up the offer.

  Somewhere wolves prowled the woods on soft paws. Harlow’s one sticking point was she wanted complete privacy for her “change”. I got a pass, because I knew her secret. That and she had been shivering since we left. Even in the dark, the temperature hung in the mid-eighties. Cold wasn’t to blame for her teeth chattering.

  “I’ve got this. Don’t worry so much.” Harlow dropped her bag on the planks, adjusted her skintight neoprene top, this one in black, and sat. “You look ready to yak. Are you sure you can handle this?”

  “No.” I backed up until the heels of my boots sank deep into the sandy soil. “I’m not.”

  My honesty must have shaken her, because her fingers slipped on the lock fastened to an inner pocket. “We’re not alone.” I got the feeling she was comforting herself. “We’ve got the wolves for backup.” She wiped her hands and tried again. “That’s what—eight wargs? They can swim, right?”

  “As far as I know.” The smell of wet dog almost bowled me over whenever I entered the shack. “I don’t see Graeson making his stand here if the pack wasn’t willing to get their paws wet.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right.” After that ringing endorsement, she let her eyes go unfocused while she gazed across the water. “There are no naturally occurring aquatic caves in the area. Whatever’s down there was hand carved. The Mississippi River is maybe an hour away. Freshies use it like a highway. It’s not impossible that a large body of water like this one, so close to a main ‘road’, might be used as nesting grounds.” Her voice went soft. “There could be caves for miles down there depending on the size of the pod.”

  “Freshies are freshwater mermaids?” I clarified.

  “Yes.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Salties—like my parents—view them as hillbilly cousins or something. Lots of animosity there.”

  Thierry hadn’t said one way or the other, but the mermaids in Wink must be freshies to live so far inland. That might explain why Harlow’s attempts to soothe the kraken backfired. If it shared its masters’ hatred for salties, then it wouldn’t hesitate to attack an enemy invading a potential nesting ground. Going in a human and a saltie? Harlow never stood a chance. She should have bowed out once she realized how long her odds were, but she hadn’t. Youth tended to give us all the illusion of invincibility.

  “What are the odds of us recovering—” I almost slipped and said a body, “—Roni?”

  “Warrens are difficult to navigate even when you’re familiar with them. Scent markers are the only way to be sure of where you’re going, so keep your fingers crossed that it’s been a while since a pod used the lake.” She opened a jar and removed a glob of flesh-colored goo. “The fewer smells competing for my attention, the easier it will be to lock on to where the kelpie is hiding.”

  I wrinkled my nose when she liberally applied the gel to the sides of her throat. “What are you doing?”

  When Harlow removed her hand, pink-rimmed gills flexed from her collarbone to under her ears. “A girl’s gotta breathe, right? It takes a few minutes for them to become fully functional.” Next she removed a dagger with a shell-encrusted handle and tucked it into a pouch sewn into her top. Gingerly she eased out what appeared to be a pair of black yoga shorts from her pack. Instead of standing upright to change, she laid back on the planks, wiggling her hips to pull the stretchy fabric on over the pair she already wore. “If you like that…” she huffed, “…you’ll love my next trick.”

  I waited. Nothing happened. “Should l clap?”

  “Give me a second.” She scooched over to the edge, dipped her hand in the lake and poured water onto her lap. Golden scales with a rosy hue glimmered where each drop fell. “The real magic happens in the water.” She rolled hard to her left. “Be right back.”

  Splash.

  Her tail breached seconds later, and her head popped up five minutes after that. Streaming water, she was radiant.

  I gaped after her. I owed her applause after all.

  “How is this possible?” Magic was capable of many things, but giving a girl reusable fins and gills? “Can all initiates do this?”

  What I meant was—did the same change that allowed the merfolk to walk on land for a year also cause a false positive? Maybe Harlow wasn’t human. Maybe if I touched her now, while she wore her tail, I would read her differently. As long as I had puzzled over her mystery, I couldn’t stem my curiosity. Being stumped by a classification for the first time had been driving me nuts.

  “I’m a changeling.” She bobbed in the water. “The human half of the equation, obviously.”

  So much for that theory.

  “That explains the texture of the magic in your aura.” The sensation was so slight even charismatic humans registered in her range. “At first I thought it meant you were a witch, but the signature was too faint.”

  “No hocus-pocus here. Well, none generated by me.” She returned to the dock, dragged her bag closer and removed two small discs I recognized as rudimentary healing spells. She jiggled the pouches to settle their contents then tucked them into her top before snapping and knotting the various closures. She spoke to the fabric as if telling it her story was easier than facing me. “My parents made the arrangements for me.”

  “Your parents.” Human or mermaid or both, I wondered.

  “Both merfolk,” she answered my unspoken question. “I’m the only human in the pod.”

  “How did you manage that?” I asked, half joking. Changelings were usually compatible on a base level with their adoptive parents. Dropping a human infant into the sea and expecting it to survive among merfolk stretched that definition.

  “My mother is cursed. All of her children die the hour they turn six weeks old. Sixteen years ago my father was so distraught at her pain, he made a bargain with a brownie who cleaned and mended for a human family with thirteen children. They couldn’t afford another mouth to feed, and the brownie made sure they didn’t have one for long. The humans had been praying for a miracle, and the brownie overheard them and granted one.”

  “The brownie swapped you for the merchild,” I supplied.

  “Yes.” She secured the backpack to one of the pilings, and when the fabric got damp, a cluster of chalky-white bay barnacles burst over the surface, the kind you’d expect to see on the belly of a freighter. Glamour perhaps? “When the infant died, my father left my birth parents my weight in gold and precious gems. They were compensated for their loss, as much as any mortal is among the fae, and Mom got what she had always wanted.” She pointed both of her thumbs at her chest.

  If she expected condemnation from me, she would be waiting a long time. Fae traditions were older than the ground under my feet. The rights and wrongs of fae and men were not mine to judge.

  “The Rumspringa thing I told you about…” She blushed. “It’s pretty much a total lie. Sorry. Telling the story was habit by the time I met you.”

  I waved off her apology. “Your parents were wise to give you a chance to see how humans and fae live topside together.” Otherwise she would have always been curious about the wonders of land, maybe even grown to resent her mother and father for not having a chance to em
brace both sides of her heritage. “I do have one more question. Why do you wear the tail sometimes and not others? It seems like it would give you an advantage.”

  “The magic requires time to regenerate. It’s not an issue at home, in salt water, but here it’s difficult to recharge that specific type of magic.” A dismissive shrug. “Not so much a mystery as a practicality.”

  I mulled over her answer, imagining her soaking the shorts in a salt bath in her hotel room to rejuvenate them, and found the whimsy of Harlow’s life enchanting. “I hope you’re happy with your choice.”

  “That makes two of us.” A tight smile stretched her lips. “Well.” The barnacles’ cling was tested by Harlow twisting the bag until it faced under the dock. “I’m ready. How about you?”

  “I hate that you have to go alone.”

  “I’ve survived worse odds.” She knocked on the warped planks. “Besides, you’re here.” She drifted away from the dock. “You won’t let anything happen to me.”

  The pearl bracelet felt tight around my wrist. I ran my finger underneath to loosen it.

  With a flip of her tail, Harlow vanished beneath the surface, and the waiting game began.

  Chapter 16

  Ten minutes passed counted out by my fingers tapping against my thigh. Ten. Some humans could hold their breath for twenty-odd minutes. The record was something like twenty-two minutes and twenty-two seconds. Nonaquatic fae had a similar lung capacity. That said, the average human only managed thirty or forty seconds before they started gasping for air.

  Not that I was obsessed with drowning statistics or anything, but how would a nine-year-old girl survive such an arduous trip to the surface? If she was still alive at all. Harlow might be fast, but if the caves ran as deep as she thought they might, then pressure sickness might also be a factor. Too many variables. Too many grim thoughts circling me. I was sick of them.