Chapter 8
Ro
I watch my female through the thick glass of the tank. I hate it in here. The confines are claustrophobic beyond even some of the tightest underwater caverns I have swum through, even without the sides closing in around me. I am willing to endure it, however. I am a tireless hunter and well known for my capability among my pod. I won’t be dissuaded from my hunt so easily by a mere tank. If this is what it takes to get close to my mate, then so be it.
Not that I seem to have much of her attention at the moment. I tap a finger on the glass, but she must not hear it because she does not look in my direction. She only looks up when the machine beside the tank beeps so that she can write down whatever information she collects from it. I frown and bat away the wires that drift across my field of vision.
The wires are annoying, and today there are numerous wires attached to me—to monitor my vitals, she has explained to me. Apparently, she is there just to check the equipment while the machine the wires are attached to does its work. Her attention has otherwise been focused all day on the thick book in her hands. I study it thoughtfully through the glass. I have seen books from time to time preserved in the depths of the sea, but I have never felt any deep curiosity toward them. It might be because I cannot decipher the symbols of written communication, but generally, my lack of interest is rooted in the fact that Aquana pods don’t bother with such things. We are capable of communicating over distances through simple, long-range songs. Anything beyond that is not worth the trouble as we prefer to keep to ourselves within our pods, sharing and preserving our knowledge with only each other.
Humans are different, however. They insist on recording vast amounts of information that are of no immediate use to their communities. I admit the concept intrigues me. What would it be like to have easy access to a wide range of information? Humans certainly place a lot of importance on reading. There is writing displayed everywhere, much of which appears to be some form of instruction from what I have gleaned from various conversations. To my understanding some of the visible writing demonstrates territory boundaries. That I can appreciate even if my kind has its own way of marking out our territory, something which I have spent the last several nights painstakingly doing. But it does make me wonder what such a thick book could possibly contain that is so interesting.
Whatever she is reading, it is clearly demanding all her concentration. I study the small line that creases between her brows. Its instructions must be highly rigorous. As I am curious and tired of being ignored, I will simply ask.
With a powerful flick of my tail, I shoot up the short distance to the surface and break from the water. It does not take much strength, but the end result is that I have to catch myself on the edge of the tank to keep from going right over it. While I can easily leap from the tank, the impact would be unpleasant enough to make me want to avoid it. There is a reason they have a hook there for helping me hoist myself in and out of the pool, and it is not because those at the lab think I am incapable of leaping the distance. Not only is the floor hard but there is all manner of things scattered around the room that would be unpleasant to fall on. I am certain that the lab would also not appreciate me breaking them.
The machines filling the room are more confusing than fascinating to me, though Keri takes the time to explain what each one does before using it. I know that she does this so that I will not be uncomfortable with their use and presence—and as much as I appreciate it, I do not have enough interest in them to care about them beyond understanding that they will not harm me. There is only one thing in the room with me that I care about, and she is sitting in the chair across from my tank—and apparently has not noticed that I have surfaced. I consider playfully splashing her but immediately reconsider. Water—especially salt water—damages many human things and I do not want her to be angry with me.
I prop my chin with one hand and watch her. The lighting of the lab makes her appear sallow and tired and casts half of her downturned face in shadows. With my vision, she could be entirely in darkness and the smallest trace amount of light would allow me to see her, but I do not like these cold lights. She should be out in the sun, but it seems that every time I see her, whether meeting at the library or during our time here, she is always trapped indoors far away from natural light. Does she spend time outside? How does she spend her day when she is not here with me or at the library? These questions intrigue the hunter in me.
I watch with fascination as her lips twist in an expression of distaste. Finally, her eyes lift to me, annoyance glittering in their depths, and I inwardly laugh. It seems that I am the reason for that look.
“Why are you staring at me?”
There is no hostility in her voice, but she does sound tired. I cock my head as I study her. Maybe it is not just the lighting. She cannot fall ill.
“Why do you bother with that when you are tired?” I ask, nodding toward the book in her hands.
My question is innocent, and I mean nothing by it, but her knuckles whiten as she grips the book and I wonder if I misspoke.
“I bother with it because since I am now doing this as well as my normal duties, I need to take whatever opportunity I’m given to keep up with my own studies. Since all I need to do is record what the machine says, I’m trying to catch up on reading this grimoire. Beyond my own studies, I am hoping to find some information on how the Underidge coven might have made the supplement.”
That piques my curiosity. “Anything so far?”
She sighs and shakes her head. Placing a ribbon in the book, she sets it aside. “I’m not confident that I’m going to find anything. Most of these books are either old enough that they speak in archaic language or include only vague references, to the point of not possessing relevant information, or do not possess a depth of information on the topics I need.”
“I do not understand,” I reply.
She rubs a hand over her face. “Donated grimoires come from everywhere, but in terms of subject matter, they can vary a lot. Older covens are generally family-based. Different focuses and skills can vary a lot among them. Likewise, the guidelines and type of education in the arts can also cover significant different areas in specialization. The grimoires that we have access to are ones donated from families that die off or otherwise discontinuing the art can vary significantly. Many grimoires are readily available to those with membership in the Arcane Society. Those dealing with subject matter that requires a certain level of permission to access are in the restricted section. As a librarian I have access to both of these types. But then there are those that are considered to possess heavily restricted and potentially dangerous information or delve into depths of the art that the council decides to not make available that are stored in The Vault. I don’t have access to these. Only certain members of the council can access The Vault.”
“You think the information you need is in such a book?” I query in surprise. “You believe it may be dangerous?” I am finding the subject of books to be both fascinating and concerning now with this new information. Just what could a book hold within it?
“It could be,” she slowly agrees. “Or there are elements within this sort of spell and others within this sort of grimoire that the Council has deemed unsafe. But really what we need are contemporaries to the Underidge coven who are familiar with aquatic heavy magic, and I just haven’t found that yet.”
“I see. I did not realize that there is so much to magic of the seas,” I observe. “For my kind, the energies are all based on instinct and the inner shifts of our own powers. There is a deep knowing and well of power, but our knowledge is not organized in the way you describe and a lot depends on one’s own abilities to learn from the source of the magic itself.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “I guess the source of the sea magic didn’t help much regarding a supplement.”
I laugh at the sally. “The sea is a loving mother but also a jealous, moody one. Why would she willingly give her children the means to abandon her?”
Keri taps a finger on the book’s cover. “Actually—that’s a good point. I’ve been scouring trying to find references that are solely connected to magic of the sea, but I may have been limiting my search too narrowly. Thank you, that may help immensely,” she adds, gifting me with a grateful smile.
My own smile widens as I lean forward over the edge of the tank. “Is it worth a reward?”
“Reward?” Suspicion fills her face, and it takes every bit of my willpower not to laugh. “What exactly do you want as a reward.”
My sweet mate is far too easy to read. And I love every bit of that. I especially love the fact that she sees through me to recognize and call out my own nonsense.
“Nothing much. Just a kiss will do,” I purr.
She blinks up at me and the corners of her mouth hitch. “Nice try. I don’t just give out kisses. It will take a lot more than that,” she adds as she picks her book back up. “Now back in the water with you. This study isn’t going to help much if you’re perched on the side of the tank like a toad on a log.”
“Very well,” I agree, sliding off the edge of the tank. “I can admire you just as well beneath the water and plot ways to earn a kiss.”
Her soft laughter follows me as I dive back down into the water and that feels like a victory and reward in itself. My mate is not an easy female to lure and seduce but I would have her no other way.