Eye of the Tempest

“Well, they’re going to have to,” Blondie said, grimly. “Either we come up with something ourselves, or we learn something through figuring out what’s going on here in Rockabill. Maybe whatever is making these people talk is responsible for what happened to Nell and Anyan. We have to get to the bottom of everything.”

“Now,” I added, helpfully.

“Sugar, we need to have figured this here problem out about ten minutes ago,” Miss Carrol said, shaking her head.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Iris and I hummed, lured by the siren’s song of the immature gnome’s inexplicable Southern accent into thinking we, too, could sound like Miss Scarlett.

“You know what you need to do,” Blondie told Miss Carrol, her voice solemn. I looked between the two of them, not sure what was going on.

“I can’t,” Miss Carrol said, pleadingly. “It ain’t right. I can’t just take it from her.”

“I don’t think you have a choice,” was Blondie’s only reply.

Shit, I thought, finally realizing what was happening. Miss Carrol might have to take over Nell’s Territory.

And while that sounded like an ideal answer to our problems, it was anything but. For if Miss Carrol bonded with the land, it would be hers until something happened to rip it away from her. Usually, and except with the interference of ancient Alfar magics, that happened with death.

In other words, Miss Carrol couldn’t just bond with Nell’s land and then give it back to her when her aunt grew up or we reversed the curse. If Miss Carrol took Nell’s land, it was hers until she died. Leaving Nell with nothing.

“There has to be another way,” Trill said, panic edging her voice.

Blondie looked at the kelpie sympathetically, but her voice was steel. “Nell’s Territory is under attack and now it’s unprotected. The weaker creatures here,” she began, waving in Gus’s direction. The stone spirit had peanut butter slathered over most of his chin. “The weaker creatures here will be completely vulnerable without Nell’s protections. You’ve got to step in.”

Miss Carrol shook her head. “I can’t just take it from her like that. This is her home.”

“She might not live to remember how much she loves it if you don’t protect her,” Blondie said, her voice sharpening incrementally.

“Wait,” I said. “This isn’t fair to any of us, especially Nell. There has to be another way. What are the stages you go through to bond with the land, Miss Carrol? Or do you just… bond?”

“No, there are stages, sugar. It doesn’t happen all at once.”

“And are there stages where you can still withdraw?” I asked.

“Why sure. Up until you’re fully bonded, you can always opt out.”

Blondie looked at me, warningly. “Miss Carrol can start the process, Jane, but if she doesn’t finish it she’s not going to have any real power.”

“Okay. But what will she have?” Iris asked, equally eager to keep Nell’s territory free to be given back to her in the future.

“I’ll be like a… squatter. And like any squatter, that means I have some rights. I don’t own the place, but it’s sort of almost mine. And anyone looking at the Territory from afar might not realize it’s unoccupied.”

“Will that fool Phaedra?” I asked Blondie.

“I have no idea,” she said, clearly unhappy even to be talking this way. “It might. It might not. But if she has or does figure out that Nell’s out of the picture… we’re screwed.”

We all looked at each other and I suddenly really, really wanted Anyan. He was always the one who came in at such moments and told us all what to do. I hadn’t realized how much he was our leader until right then. Someone else was going to have to step up.

“Okay,” I said, before clearing my throat. “Here’s what we’ll do. For now, Miss Carrol will begin the process and… squat. The rest of us will take patrols, trying to make sure nothing happens in the Territory. If it does, we call for Blondie. Do you have a cell phone?” I asked the Original, who nodded. “Great. Hopefully no one will notice that Nell’s not actually appearing anywhere. In the meantime, we need to be ready to act if something gets too big. That means, Miss Carrol, you have to be ready to take that last step, if we need you to. We can’t risk everyone’s lives, including Nell’s, just to save her place here.” At that, Trill made a funny noise that I assumed was protesting my giving Miss Carrol such a command.

“And what will we do?” Iris asked. “Besides patrol?” Trill made another strange sound. Maybe she was crying. Or she was really pissed.

“We’ll work on changing these two back,” I said. “We’ll work on figuring out what the hell is going on in Rockabill. We’ll work on—”

At that, Trill stood up. I was expecting her to argue with me. But my friend’s flat-featured face was oddly empty, as if the proverbial lights were on but everyone had snuck out back to the shed.

“The Signs protect destruction!” a voice very unlike Trill’s boomed out from the kelpie’s body. “The Signs protect destruction! The Signs protect destruction! The Signs protect…”

We all looked at each other, totally freaked out. But just as the Original took a step toward Trill, the whole cabin shook as if a missile had hit it. We grabbed onto the furniture around us while the ground shook and Anyan began barking like he was being pestered by rabid groundhogs.

When the shaking stopped, we all looked around to make sure our friends were unhurt. And we were—the only damage to the cabin a few books fallen off shelves or paintings off walls. Trill, meanwhile, was still muttering “The Signs protect destruction,” but when Caleb went and shook her gently, she came back to herself.

But Miss Carrol looked spooked. She was obviously afraid this meant an attack that would force her to bond with Nell’s Territory. And as I looked around, relief turned to fear on all my friends’ faces. None of us wanted to be a party to stealing Nell’s home.

All of us except for Anyan, of course.

He was chewing on one of his own paws.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Yeah, Jane. I’m sure you do want to talk, and we definitely have a lot of catching up to do. But now?” Blondie asked. I squinted at her, the low-lying light of the late-afternoon sun right in my eyes.

“Yes, now. It’ll take five minutes,” I answered, using my Resolved Voice.

“Um, sure. Fine.” Blondie peered around, as if to verify our privacy. Trill was inside, making Nell a bottle from supplies Amy had run over just a few minutes ago on her break from the Trough. When Amy left, she’d taken Gus with her into town so he could work his shift at McKinley’s. In the driveway, Anyan danced around Iris and Caleb, who were trying to load the big dog into Caleb’s SUV. Anyan was having none of it.

That left Blondie and me on the big wraparound porch, in relative seclusion.

“So what’s up?” she asked.

I thought about how to approach my questions, and then decided that diving right in was the way to go.

“I know I owe you my life. Everyone’s told me that, about a million times. But why should I trust you?”

The Original blinked at me. “Don’t beat around the bush, babydoll,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I probably seem ungrateful. But everyone else has had a month to get to talk to you, to get to know you. Last thing I remember, you were a mystery to us. Now everyone’s best friends, but I need to know why.”

“Can’t the fact that your friends trust me be enough?” she asked.

“Frankly, no. After all,” I replied, “they needed you to keep me alive. That was a need you could take advantage of… either through magic or through good, old-fashioned manipulation.”

Instead of looking offended, Blondie grinned.

“That’s a solidly distrusting attitude to have, babydoll. You’re learning. How about we start from the beginning?”

“From the beginning?” I asked, unsure of her meaning.

“Yep,” she said, sticking out her hand for me to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m—” and here, she said that totally unpronounceable string of bendy sounds, grunts, and clicks.

I blinked at her and then took her hand and said hello before trying my damndest to imitate that string of noises she’d just made.

Blondie made a face, before repeating her name.

I tried again. Her grimace deepened.

“That’s terrible. You have a tin ear. How about a nickname?” she asked.

I nodded, knowing it would take me a good year, at least, to pronounce her true name.

“Sometimes my friends call me—” she started, and then, I swear to the gods, she said what could only be spelled “Xctvbivobi.” I stared at her for a second, before giving her name the old college try.

“Yeesh,” was her only response. “That’s even worse. Can you do Cviciaoozozo?”

I tried. I failed. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">