Tempest Rising

Page 9

“We’ve been watching over you since your mother left. She had to return to the sea, and you did not inherit her two-formed nature, so she was forced to leave you behind. If you had been almost entirely human, we would have let you live out your life without revealing ourselves to you. But your power is strong, and we would have come to you when you were more mature. Your actions the other night, however, made our meeting more precipitate.”
My power? I thought, confused. “What did I do?”
Nell’s smile faltered. “The body you found in the sea was a halfling, like yourself. Part supernatural and part human. Peter Jakes was apparently in the service of… of some very powerful beings. His presence here in these parts appears to have been on their orders. His murder needs to be investigated by our community and, as the person who found the body, you must be interviewed as part of that investigation.”
This was far more prosaic a reason for “first contact” than I had expected, and also rather galling.
My irritation came through in my voice. “So, if I hadn’t been the one to find Peter’s body, you guys would have just let me bumble along for a few more years, not knowing who—or what—I was? I’m twenty-six years old; would you have told me before or after I was retirement age?”
Nell’s smile returned, full blast. “Child, and you are yet a child to me, human years mean nothing to us. Nor will they mean much to you. Your manipulation of the elements is strong; although you are not two-formed, your mother’s powers are as potent in you as if you were. Age will not affect you as it does humans. You have only lived for the briefest moment of the life stretching before you.”
I could tell Nell thought this was supposed to be good news, but my whole being rebelled at what she was saying.
“Look, you’re crazy. I’ve been in the hospital. And I mean I’ve really been in the hospital. I’ve had about every test done to me that can be done, and nothing ever came out saying, ‘Oh, good heart and lungs coupled with seal blood means she’ll live forever.’ This is crazy. I can’t live forever; I don’t want to live forever. My life sucks enough as it is…” In saying these last words the true horror of what Nell had so blithely told me began to descend upon me. Would entire generations of Rockabillians know me as Crazy Jane?
At least you’ll get your chance to dance on Stuart’s and Linda’s graves, my brain chipped in, unhelpfully.
Nell interrupted my malicious fantasies. “Don’t worry, child,” she said. “You won’t live forever. Just a long time. And you’re certainly not immortal; you can be killed. But human concerns—such as years, age, birthdays, and the like—will cease to mean much to you after a few centuries.”
“Oh, great. I’m sure they will,” I said, sarcastically. “Right around the time I go mental with loneliness from living in my recluse shack where no one can find the lady who doesn’t die. That’s going to be a great life. Maybe I should invest in the property market now, while it’s on the downturn? I wonder what a hermit’s cave is going for these days. I’ll obviously only need the one bedroom.”
Nell shook her head. “You won’t be alone, child.” With these words she looked me full in the face, all traces of her smile gone. “Your life has only just begun.”
I didn’t know whether her words were a promise or a warning. Or both.
I watched, mute, as she climbed down from her rocking chair. She wrapped it up inside the quilt and laid her little bundle over Trill’s back. Disconcertingly, the kelpie had turned back into a pony and I hadn’t even noticed.
“Take a swim, Jane,” she said. “You need it. Recharge your batteries. Tomorrow, an investigator will be in touch. Jakes was important, although I don’t know why, and events are moving quickly. I don’t know who they will send, but expect someone. And don’t worry, we will be here to answer your questions. There is no hurry. You are in my territory.”
As Nell said those final words the air crackled around her with energy, and I suspect she had granted me the merest glimpse of the power that lay within her plump little form.
Before I could protest, she was trundling along beside the pearly gray pony as they walked toward the solid face of the rock wall… and disappeared. Nell took her light with her, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the soft glimmering of the night’s sky.
I sat in silence, absently scratching at a furry belly. With a start I realized that at some point during Nell’s Revelation Hour I’d thrown an arm around Anyan and was scratching away at his densely haired hide distractedly. For his part, he didn’t look like he minded.
I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around everything I had learned tonight. It made no sense, yet it made every sense. And Nell’s words, if I was honest, scared the shit out of me. I may have hated the fact that I had been so defined by the events of my life; how I was trapped in a place that never let me be anything but one version of what they wanted to see. But I also knew my role, my place. There were no questions or insecurities about what I’d do, day to day. Suddenly, everything had changed. And I couldn’t begin to understand how.
Part of me, however, was quite certain that I’d wake up tomorrow and realize it had been a dream. But for right now, Nell was right. I needed a swim the way Joel Irving, our town drunk, needed that first shot of vodka in his morning coffee.
I stood up, stretching my still-aching legs. I was going to feel tonight’s run something awful tomorrow morning. I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my jeans and socks. I was just starting to pull my shirt over my head when I realized that Anyan had slipped away. I let my shirt fall and turned around to find him looking back at me as he headed toward the breach in the cove walls.
No teleporting for the pooch, I thought, smiling, as I pulled my shirt over my head. Anyan jerked his head around so quickly he smacked his muzzle against the break’s rough walls. My head throbbed in sympathy.
That is one odd dog, I thought, as I pulled off my bra and panties and ran toward the ocean, plunging in gratefully.
And what exactly had Nell meant when she said he’d told her all about me?
CHAPTER FIVE
My walk back into town the next morning was a strangely surreal experience. Surprisingly, I’d slept well that night, which meant I hadn’t really had time to process what I’d seen. But throughout breakfast I kept going over the previous evening’s events. I’d gotten a glimpse into a whole other reality and I had no idea what it all meant. The thing that most caught my imagination was when Nell had said that her kind were all around us. Granted, Nell or Trill would stand out in a crowd, but my mother had looked totally normal. Were there other supernatural creatures running around Rockabill?
And why was I accepting all of this so calmly? I’d just met a talking garden gnome and the nightmare version of My Little Pony. Oh, and I mustn’t forget my little race with the saber-toothed canine. Why wasn’t I more alarmed at what I’d seen?
Because, the little evil voice I tried to suppress chimed, you always knew you were more of a freak than anyone—even Linda or Stuart—could guess.
Of course, I considered, the doctors could just be correct and you’ve finally gone off the deep end. Maybe you really are Crazy Jane True.
My blood ran cold at that thought. There had been more than a few times during my hospital stay when I’d genuinely feared that I was losing my mind. When I felt there was more than just grief shrouding my thoughts in darkness. I’d had the most vivid dreams about a stranger who held my hand and told me stories, all through the night. They’d seemed so real, and yet they could not have happened. Maybe I am mad, I thought. Maybe madness is what drove Mom away, and she left it for me, in my blood, as her parting gift.
Whatever, Jane, my brain admonished. Either some “investigator” shows up today, like Nell said would happen, and you know you’re okay. Or, nobody appears and you check yourself back into the funny farm. In the meantime, get over yourself and go with the idea it’s all real.
I imagined the whole day spent analyzing Read It and Weep’s customers, searching for some clue as to their true identity. In other words, I’d play the supernatural version of Sesame Street’s “one of these things is not like the others.”
Grizzie presented me with my first challenge. She looked resplendent, as always. Over shiny black leggings she sported purple thigh-high patent-leather boots with enormous stacks that made her about six-foot-four. On top, she wore a fuzzy purple angora sweater that fitted snugly down over her hips. The sweater was cinched tight over her waspish waist by a wide patent-leather belt that had an enormous silver lightning bolt for a buckle. For a bra, she’d chosen a very fifties “lift and separate” number that made it look like she was wearing traffic cones under her sweater. She’d done her long ebony hair up into a giant coiffure from which a fake ponytail streamed down to the small of her back. Her makeup was minimal. After all, it was bad taste to wear purple thigh-high stacks and overdone eye shadow. She had only two wings of black liquid eyeliner accentuating her vivid violet eyes, and the barest hint of pink blush and lip gloss.