Chapter 5
Istepped away from the table and felt the air change. The meeting was over, and the room relaxed all at once.
I looked at Joy, and she took my hand. Her fingers were cold but steady.
The council broke like a wave, slow at first, then in crosscurrents as people clustered in little knots or drifted for the exits.
I watched the benches empty, and the voices fade from tense to loose, like muscles going slack after a fight.
A few stayed behind, either wanting a last word or not ready to give up the shelter of shared air.
Linda and Evelyn hung back, waiting for the room to thin.
Linda’s cheeks still held a faint sunburn, and she wore the same canvas shirt from before, unbuttoned enough to catch air and attention.
Evelyn’s eyes tracked the motion at the front of the hall.
Both of them looked tired, but not run-down, more the spent energy of two who’d started the day nervous and were finishing it with something close to hope.
When they reached me at the table, Linda’s hand found my forearm, her grip firm and warm.
She said, “That was good. Thank you.” The pulse behind the words was stronger, laced with memories of last night, the way her body had taken mine in, Evelyn’s flavor on her tongue, the slow trust in the way she held Evelyn’s hand while they slept.
Evelyn didn’t say anything, but she squeezed Linda’s fingers and gave me a look that said both “see you soon” and “don’t let the world go to hell before then. ”
“Get some sleep,” I said. Linda grinned and let her arm brush mine before they disappeared toward the stairs, and I was left with a sense of their heat trailing after them.
Joy’s lips curled into a small grin, but she didn’t say anything.
It didn’t matter; I knew what she was thinking.
Oh, she surprised me. I thought I knew what she was thinking; then I listened.
She was contemplating whether to invite one of the other girls to join us for the night.
A list of names and faces crossed her mind.
She considered inviting Linda and Evelyn, but didn’t want the added complication of a third girl, so she started glancing at the others.
There was Katya Nyland, the dark-haired Ukrainian girl who, while not an exact match, resembled Joy in many ways.
Then there was Judy, who spoke during the meeting, and then there was Misty, the one with messy blonde hair, who escaped the Shima with my team and me.
There were several other names that passed through her thoughts, but she quickly dismissed them.
My body was starting to respond. I shook my head and stopped listening to her thoughts. Whatever she decides, let her surprise me, I thought.
Two benches down, Teva sat alone, watching the chandeliers sway with the movement of bodies toward the exit.
Her cerulean skin picked up every amber highlight from the lanterns, and the deep blue of her hair looked black in the low light except where it caught a gold thread from the room.
She was topless, same as every Awenasa woman I’d ever met, but it didn’t register as out of place.
There was a self-possession to her, a kind of ease in the body, that made the nakedness less about display and more about refusing to cover up for anyone’s comfort but her own.
When she stood, the movement was unhurried, as if the world could wait until she was finished with her thought. She padded over to the table, leaning against it at my side. Her eyes flicked to the emptying room, then to me. “You handled that well,” she said.
“Wasn’t sure I did. Glad it looked good from out there.” I gave her a smile, then nodded to the strand of her hair that had come loose from the braid. “You’ve been working? Or just thinking?”
She ran a finger down the braid, her nails a shade darker than her skin. “Both. I like to do something with my hands when the talk gets too much. Otherwise, the nerves take over.” She smiled. “I heard you might visit the Yacht Club.”
“Not yet,” I said. “Autumn mentioned you are working on something but wouldn’t tell me what. Is it ready?”
Her laugh was low, more of a vibration. “No. But it’s better.
I go after my shifts on the Chesapeake. Mostly to sweep and sort what can be saved.
I fixed the boards on the front deck and repaired the stairs.
Water came in when the Blue Wave hit, you know.
So did everything else. The ground floor is heavily water-damaged.
But upstairs? That’s nice. Good wood, strong walls.
If we stay on this island, it could be something.
” Her hands moved as she spoke, sketching the size of the space, the potential.
“It could be for everyone, not just me. A real gathering place, with a view of the water and enough windows that the world outside can’t be ignored. ”
I thought about that for a second. “What do you want to do with it?”
She hesitated, and for a moment I saw a flicker of embarrassment that was unusual for her.
“I want it to be a place people can go,” she said, voice lower.
“Somewhere to sit, talk, maybe have a drink. Food when we have it. Music if someone feels like playing.” She glanced up, then down again.
“I’ve been training two of the Ci Dyn in massage.
Everyone works hard here. A good massage can do a lot for tired muscles and stress.
I thought the pack could use a place like that.
Or the tribe. Or just the ones who don’t have anywhere else to unwind. ”
She said it without drama, but the want was real. I nodded. “It’s a good idea. I’ll come see it soon.”
Her face opened into a broad, genuine smile. “Thank you.” She glanced around. “If you need help tonight, I can stay.”
I looked at her, at the easy way she carried herself, and said, “Tonight, just rest. I’ll get through it.”
She tilted her head, watching. “Okay. But you’re not alone.
” She squeezed my shoulder, then walked away, her stride relaxed.
As she left, her thoughts lingered in the air like perfume: the flavor of vanilla, the comfort of baking bread, the sound of laughter echoing off the wooden beams. I wanted to see her project succeed, for her sake as much as mine.
The rest of the council faded out by ones and twos.
Taylor left after a short word with Joy, who stayed to help clear the last of the benches.
Akia finished her notes and wandered off toward the kitchen, probably to copy her diagram for the record.
Even the elves didn’t linger; Lyubor and her three followers stood near the side door, holding a low, fast conversation in their own language before vanishing into the dark.
When the room was mostly empty, I spotted Gascha alone at the edge of the dance floor, her arms folded, tail still. Her ears had dropped from their on-duty alertness and now flopped outward, signaling that the performance was over. The relief in her was plain, but so was the fatigue.
I walked over, not in a rush. She didn’t pretend that she didn’t see me; she just let her eyes settle on mine as I approached.
“How’s the head?” I asked.
She shook it once, slowly. “I’d rather patch a hull or sort a pack fight. But I’m fine. The meeting went better than I thought.”
I leaned against the wall beside her. The smell of her was clean and sharp, a little sweat and the echo of soap. Her shirt clung to her chest, showing the curve of her muscles, and her hands flexed against her biceps like she was squeezing the last tension from them.
“Lyubor’s watching the room,” Gascha said, voice low. “She’ll wait until she’s sure we mean it before she lets her people settle.”
“She’s smart,” I replied. “She’s seen worse than this.”
Gascha considered that, then nodded. “She’s right to be cautious.
Even if we’re all together now, things can change fast. Especially with so many new people in the mix.
” Her eyes lingered on the far corner of the hall, where a few Fatu Hiva girls swept up the last of the plates and cups.
“They look up to you. Even the ones who pretend not to.”
“I hope it lasts,” I said, a little too honest.
She turned to face me, her floppy ears finally going loose, the last bit of vigilance draining away. “You always think you’re one bad call from losing them all,” she said, with a small, private smile. “You’re not.”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I let the quiet of the hall settle, the only sound the surf and the slow clatter of the last dish being cleared.
Gascha stepped closer, enough that her arm touched mine. She wasn’t wearing a top, only the short skirt with the slit that let her tail free. “I’m not tired,” she said, though her body said otherwise. “Not if you want to talk. Or… anything.”
Joy stood on my other side, quiet, watching both of us.
I put my hand on Gascha’s back, just above the base of her tail, and she relaxed into it.
The tension of the meeting faded as she let her weight rest against me, her cheek coming to my shoulder.
I ran my hand over her ribs, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath. Her bare skin was warm under my palm.
She said nothing for a minute, then: “Sometimes I wish I could turn it off. The thinking, the planning. Just be in the moment.” She laughed, a short exhale. “I guess you make that easier.”
I stroked her hair, then scratched behind her left ear the way I knew she liked. She pressed into the touch, a deep, contented rumble vibrating through her chest.
Joy’s hand found the small of my back. She didn’t say anything, but her thoughts were clear enough. She knew how long it had been for Gascha. Since that first time, the list had only grown, and Gascha had stepped back without complaint.
“We can stay here a while,” I said. “Nobody’s going to kick us out.”
Gascha chuckled. “I know. I just don’t want to be the first to go.”
We stood like that, the three of us. The last of the staff cleared out. The hall was ours. I felt the softness of Gascha’s fur at the nape of her neck and the warm breath of both of them against my skin.
Gascha pulled back just enough to look up at me. Desire was plain in her eyes, but she didn’t push it. “It’s been a while,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
She gave a small, private smile. “I’m still on the list. I can wait.”
Joy’s hand stayed against my back. After a moment, she spoke, soft but certain. “You won’t have to wait tonight.”
Gascha’s ears flicked toward her, then back to me. The meaning landed. She leaned in and kissed me once, unhurried and firm. When she drew back, she rested her forehead against mine for a second.
“You’re warm,” she said.
“So are you.”
She stepped away first, straightening her skirt. The need was still there, but she had it under control. Joy’s fingers lingered against my back a moment longer before she let her hand fall.
We left the hall together. The night air felt cool after the closeness inside.
Joy walked on my right, Gascha on my left.
Neither of them said anything more, but the decision had already been made.
The future would come. The world would keep breaking and rebuilding.
For now, the three of us walked in silence, and the weight of the meeting was set down for a little while.