Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Orvik
There was another kraken in the cove.
The truth of it resonates through my ribs, travels through my gills, and ends at the tips of my restless tentacle hair.
Why? What could they possibly want from me?
And are they a threat to Jackie? The possibilities circle around in my brain, from mundane to horrific.
I walk beside Jackie as we approach her beach house, my patterns running with pulsing light along my forearms where her hand rests in mine.
Swimming with Jackie was something else entirely.
I don't have a word for what it felt to swim with my mate, but it was the most exhilarating experience of my life.
I brought her there this morning without fully thinking through what it would mean to watch her float in water, to see her marks blazing bright in the current.
Everything. It meant everything to me and more.
Her beach house comes into view around the bend, small and cedar-shingled, with the afternoon light on the windows. It’s a beautiful, peaceful place. A place close enough to the ocean for my kraken heart.
"It’s adorable when you do that," Jackie says.
"Do what?"
"Your tentacles do a thing when you're excited."
I look at her. She is watching me with the expression that means she finds me both exasperating and amusing, which I have come to understand is her version of affection.
"Sorry," I say.
"Don’t be. I like that." She squeezes my hand. "Come in. I'll make tea."
We walk up the steps to her porch and I see it before she does.
A piece of black coral, no larger than my thumb, placed precisely in the center of her doormat. Branching and dark and unmistakable, the kind that only grows in deep water, far below the reach of any land dweller's nets. It has been broken cleanly from a larger formation. Deliberately. Recently.
I stop walking. Jackie takes another step before my hand pulls her back.
"What?" She follows my gaze down. "Oh! Is that coral? How did that get up here?"
I bend and pick it up. It's still damp, still smelling of the minerals only found in the water of the deepest trench. Someone carried this out of deep water and placed it at her door within the last few hours.
"It's a deep ocean coral," I say. My tentacle hair tightens against my scalp. "Krakens use them as tokens when they visit."
When they want the person who owns the place to know they were there. Krakens use the black corals for many things. They can be sent as tokens of love from relatives. They can be sent as gifts to express gratitude. They can also be sent as warnings to an enemy.
It’s the last part that scares me. Because I see no reason for any kraken to come to my mate’s doorstep that could be positive. This is no coincidence and I still don’t know what they want.
"You think a kraken came here to my house?" Jackie looks at the coral in my hand, then at the ocean beyond her porch. “Why?”
"I don't know," I answer truthfully, turning the piece over in my fingers. "It could be a territorial marker. It could be a message. I'm not sure what it means yet, but someone from the Nautilus was standing on this porch while we were in the water."
Jackie is quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she says. "Come inside. We'll figure it out."
I pocket the coral and follow her in.
Her house is exactly what I expected from her, and somehow, it's still a surprise.
Bookshelves line the walls, and more books are stacked on the coffee table.
A faded throw drapes around the worn-looking sofa, bathed in morning sunshine.
Sea glass hangs from strings on the windowsills, arranged in decorative patterns the way someone arranges things they've gathered over years and can't bring themselves to stop gathering.
A ceramic seal with a chip in its tail sits on the kitchen counter, watching us with a happy smile.
I stand in the middle of her living room while she fills the kettle and I take in the look and feel of my mate's nest. She clearly chose this house because she loves the ocean.
Three windows face the water, and the back door opens onto a small deck that leads directly to the beach path.
From any point in her living room and kitchen, she can see the ocean, surrounding her like a friend.
It's a good house. A good place.
But it's also a vulnerable place, if the threat was to come from the water. From whoever left the black coral on her doorstep.
I turn around to inspect the few items on her side table and pick up a photograph in an old gilded frame.
In it is an older man with Jackie's eyes and blond hair, smiling next to a boy and a girl of about twelve years of age.
I can't be sure. I've never been good at guessing the age of human children.
I look at it for a moment, at the smiling girl with her blue eyes and long blond hair.
That happy, open face, beautiful and innocent.
Jackie. My Jackie as a child.
"My father," Jackie says from the kitchen doorway. "And Chase."
"You have his eyes," I say.
She looks at the photograph and for a fleeting moment, grief etches her features, then her expression softens again and she smiles.
"He used to say I had his stubbornness, too. He wasn't wrong."
She brings two mugs of tea and we settle on the sofa. Through the large windows I can see the water, the lighthouse in the distance.
Jackie tucks her legs under her, turning to face me. "You're still thinking about the cove."
"Yes."
"The kraken you sensed."
"Yes."
She sets her hand on my knee. The patterns wake at the contact, slow and warm. I look at her hand there and feel two things at once, the loosening in my chest that happens every time she touches me, and the tightening everywhere else that has not stopped since I felt that presence in the water.
"Are you so sure they were a threat?" she asks.
I cover her hand with mine, the question burning through me like a hot poker.
"I can't be sure, no," I answer truthfully. "But they want something from me and they want me to know it. They've been circling Saltford Bay for over a month."
Jackie nods, hesitation and fear warring on her face. I want to cradle her and hold her against my chest, tell her everything will be alright. Tell her I will protect her against any threat.
The door opens behind us, and I am on my feet within a heartbeat, putting myself between whoever is coming in uninvited and my mate.
A human man steps through the front door. He is tall, blond, and carries two canvas grocery bags.
I hiss a warning, my tentacle hair spreading behind my head, my entire body on high alert.
The man stops. The grocery bags lower an inch. His eyes move from my face to my tentacle hair to the bioluminescent patterns running up my forearms, and he takes a step back.
"Whoa." He takes half a step back. "Easy."
Jackie steps closer and tries to walk around me, but I reach for her, preventing her approach to this unknown male.
"Orvik." Jackie's hand lands on my arm. "It's okay. This is Chase, my brother."
I look at her. I look at him.
Her brother. The resemblance hits me all at once. The human man has Jackie's eyes and nose all rendered in masculine configuration under the same blond hair.
“Your brother?” I blink, allowing the information to make its way into my brain. I’m on such high alert that it takes a few more seconds for it to fully register.
“Yes, my brother.” Jackie removes my arm to move toward Chase and I let her, although reluctantly.
His gaze drops to Jackie's arms, where the bioluminescent marks, now permanent, are visible below her rolled sleeves, then to the pearl at her collarbone. He doesn't acknowledge either, but I watch him register both.
I step aside. My tentacle hair settles, but slowly.
"Surprise," Chase says, not quite looking away from me. "I'm back."
"I wasn't expecting you." Jackie folds her arms and watches as her brother moves to the kitchen counter, placing the grocery bags on the neat, clean surface.
"Thought I'd make it up to you." He starts pulling food out of the bags, lining it up on the counter.
"I stopped at that market you like in Portland.
Got the good olive oil, the truffle pasta, that cheese you're obsessed with.
" He sets the bags on the counter and turns back to her with a smile and open arms. "I'm cooking you dinner tonight.
My famous chili. Consider it a peace offering. "
His eyes slide to me. The smile doesn't change shape but it loses temperature.
"Your friend is welcome to stay, of course."
I keep my expression level. Jackie glances at me, then back at Chase.
"Chase, this is Orvik. He's —"
"I know who he is." Chase extends his hand toward me, his smile still on his face and still not reaching his eyes. "You’re the harbormaster. Jackie's mentioned you."
I shake his hand. "She's mentioned you as well."
We shake hands and I squeeze with just a tad more force than I usually do. I watch as his smile shakes for just a second before releasing his hand.
"Good things, I hope." He's already moving toward the kitchen. "Where's your big pot, Jax? The one Dad got you for Christmas?"
"Chase." Jackie's voice is firm enough to stop him mid-reach. "You can't just walk back in here like nothing happened."
"I know." He turns at the kitchen doorway, and now the charm softens into something that might be genuine. "I know, Jax. I was out of line. I've been out of line for a while and I know it." He pauses. "That's why I'm here. I don't want to lose you over this."
Jackie's face shifts and I can see she’s preparing herself for a fight. I don’t know what happened between those two, so I stay silent and listen.
"Then talk to me," she says. "Actually talk to me. Not cooking-and-charm talk. Real talk." She folds her arms. "Did you break it off with Sylvie?"
The shift in Chase is immediate. His shoulders tighten. The easy warmth contracts into something guarded.
"That's complicated, Jackie."