Page 7 of Wateredge

Still, it had been odd. One moment, the weather was a touch overcast, gloomy with no hint of a snowmaggedon, and the next she was coordinating snowplows and directing tourists who had flowed to the island for the long, promising weekend at the Astronomy Resort. A text message from the new mayor informed her that Paloma had already instructed several bed and breakfast owners to open their places of business much earlier than usual to accommodate the stranded influx. Seren feared it might not be enough. Dragons had had an unseasonably warm winter this year, and people just flocked over. Too many people. They might even have to house some of the mainlanders in private residences.

A follow-up message from Paloma confirmed as much. Seren all but hugged her phone at the brisk and to-the-point communication. How she loved having a competent woman in charge of the town hall. Only a month into the job, and Paloma Allende was already setting records for efficiency in the face of the incoming natural disaster.

And it would be a disaster if the horizon was anything to judge by. Seren watched the ocean swell and spill onto the land in front of her, eating up chunks of the beach, thrashing the Dragon cliffs behind her. The old stones stood sentinel over her island, but the storm would test even their endurance. Seren wondered at the speed and power the storm would take on by morning.

Another message from Paloma told her the emergency services communications would move to radio, as the cellular tower was taking a beating on top of Viridescent, and pretty soon all of Dragons would lose cell services.

Seren made a face and signaled for Henderson and his newly freed truck. She’d hitch a ride with him. Walking through the quickly accumulating snow was not a wise option. As he stopped by the Tavern, apologizing and thanking her profusely, she waved him away, dropping the axe by the front door and making her way into the quiet and dark restaurant. The neat rows of tables were undisturbed, and the only light was coming from the kitchen. What the hell had her aunt gotten herself into again? It would be just like her…

She had been in the middle of a tirade, cursing out Henderson and the truck and the weather and the owner of the poor, hapless and helpless sedan, when the world narrowed. Focused with sharp precision.

It had not stopped, it had not tilted. Seren felt the floor, stable and certain under her feet, and yet… Something shifted, like water immediately moving its entire volume to the newly established lowest point; her center of gravity changed. It was no longer inside of her, no longer part of her. In fact, to her immediate and immense shock, the center of gravity of Seren’s entire lifetime was now on the floor, lying prone in the form of a slight, disheveled person wearing someone else’s old clothes.

Seren dropped the helmet from her fingertips, her curiosity awoken. More than curiosity, she thought, as her magic buzzed along her skin, desperate to reach out, keen to touch, to⁠—

Save.

It was the only word that somewhat fit—even if it was not quite right either—whatever was happening in the kitchen of her aunt’s restaurant.

On the floor, bundled in something that looked suspiciously like an ancient jacket, pale and bruised and bleeding, sat a woman. Small, thin, and dazed, she looked like a bird that flew into the wrong window. Seren blinked. The world still held the shape of a laser beam, not stopping but pointing Seren’s attention to this one person. If anything, it went about its gravitational business with more precision. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. And yet in the blink of an eye, Seren no longer belonged to herself.

Well, fuck…

The bright blue eyes watched her with panic and a little fear. The colorless lips trembled before the chin lifted a touch higher, stubbornly, and Seren wanted to laugh. She looked lost, yet disheveled and belligerent. Half-dead and completely terrified, and not giving an inch.

Seren smiled and was met with a glare.

“You wrecked my car?”

The accusation, spoken in a quiet voice, did something to Seren’s throat because there was suddenly a lump in it the size of a baseball, refusing to budge, refusing to allow her to speak.

“Well, fuck.” Ceridwen’s voice was so matter-of-fact, so businesslike, Seren almost missed the words entirely. Then, she tore her eyes from the woman on the floor and caught her sister’s gaze. The inevitability in it made Seren realize that Ceridwen had given voice to her own earlier thought.

“Seren, for Goddess’ sake. Be useful and help us get Lark…”

Victoria trailed off, clearly asking for the last name, but the stubborn set of lips refused to back down and relax, and the silence grew longer. Seren approached like one would a feral kitten.

The woman—Lark. Damn, was it really her name?—glared harder.

“Ms… whoever you are, did you total my car?”

Slender arms wrapped themselves around the shivering form, and Seren dropped her chin to her chest, watching the woman from under her lashes.

“Seren Crowhart, Captain of the Crow’s Nest Fire Brigade, ma’am. And no, I did not total your car. Technically.”

The woman struggled to her feet, swaying rather strongly. Seren saw the concern in Ceridwen’s eyes and moved closer. The suddenness of her movement made the already wide eyes grow bigger still. They sat in a slim, tired face with features that were a touch too big for it and yet made for the most beautiful sight.

“Technically?”

There was a semblance of bite to the weak, broken voice, and it only made Seren smile wider.

“Volunteer Henderson nearly totaled your car, but we can figure out what can be done about it. In the meantime, seeing as you’re a tourist, you need to get to the resort, or to one of the bed and breakfasts. It’s coming down hard out there. The last ferry has been canceled.”

“I wasn’t planning on taking the ferry.”

The woman sighed and, for an instant, placed her face in her palms. Seren looked at Ceridwen, who lifted a shoulder, clearly just as lost as her.

To the surprise of nobody, it was Victoria who piped up.