15. Lena
LENA
O f course I didn’t go straight to the portal. I wasn’t about to abandon my friends to a reality-melting storm and the end of the world.
So instead of running for the pier and safety, I grabbed my beach bag, wrapped myself in a towel, and headed inland. If I reached Marisol, I reasoned, she’d have an evacuation protocol to get everyone off the island.
The admin building shook in the high winds, and rain started pounding the path as I arrived. Fat raindrops, big enough to sting when they hit me, and traveling almost horizontally on the wind. That was not a good sign.
I made it just in time to see the Celestial Tiki Bar’s roof rise into the air, then crash back into place. Someone inside screamed loud enough to be heard over the storm. A glance through the door showed me a crowd gathered in the bar. Marisol would be there, I reasoned, rather than in her office.
I was right, of course. The siren was there, trying to keep her guests calm. Surrounded by guests, all demanding something from her, her perfect control looked like it was on the verge of failing her.
Another time, I’d have been interested in seeing what happened when she lost her temper. From a safe distance, anyway. Ten miles, watching from the safety of a bunker?
“There will be time for your questions later, ” she said in the calm tone of someone holding onto her last nerve for dear life. “As per the emergency protocol in your handbook, right now we need to get into the safety bunker before anyone gets hurt.”
With a stab of guilt, I remembered my copy of the handbook. It lay, its bright blue cover unopened, on the bedside table in my cabin. I wondered if any of the other guests had read it. From the crowd’s confusion, I guessed I was far from alone.
Everyone was talking at once, and the wind howling through the damaged roof didn’t help anyone make their point understood. We didn’t have time for this.
I tried speaking up. I tried shouting and waving. No one paid attention; even Marisol just acknowledged my presence with a nod. Frustrated, I glanced outside, seeing trees whipping back and forth in the wind. Things were getting far too dangerous.
I tried screaming over the noise, which got the attention of a couple of guests, but it wasn’t enough. Then, before I lost all hope, a sharp, powerful whistle cut through everything. Even the storm seemed to take notice and fall silent.
“Looks like Lena here has some important news,” Rook said into the sudden silence. “Figure we ought to listen, right?”
Someone started to argue, but Marisol shut him up with a glare, and all attention turned to me. I swallowed, remembering I was wearing a towel and nothing else. Public speaking had never been my forte, and this was turning into a nightmare.
“You can’t hide in the bunker,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I mean, you can, but you’ll probably die. The Void Gate’s opening, and we need to be in another universe when it does.”
Chaos. Confused shouting. Anger directed at me. I flinched away from the crowd as they turned, and for a moment I thought I’d maybe downgraded my death from ‘the end of the universe’ to ‘a riot.’
Then Greg, the mild-mannered accountant from Ohio, stepped between me and the crowd. “Now hold on, everyone. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
His wife slithered into place beside him, and Gwenhild the goth vampire took his other flank. Her voice cut through the noise easily, a predator commanding attention from her prey.
“This woman is the mate of our host, fools.” Her archaic accent dripped with contempt. “If she says we need to leave, then I will not stop to ask questions. And if you want to harm the fated mate of a dragon, you are idiots and I will not let you bring his wrath down on me.”
Fortunately, no one wanted that fight. The mob of guests splintered, and I breathed again.
“Thank you, Gwenhild,” Marisol said, back to looking calm and collected, as though her facade had never cracked.
She sounded as though the vampire had handed her a drink, not kept the resort from collapsing into anarchy.
With a decisive clap of her hands, she continued.
“Due to new information, I’m updating the emergency plan.
We are all leaving the island posthaste.
No time to gather your belongings, I’m afraid. ”
She motioned toward the door, and Rook and the rest of the staff backed her up, herding everyone outside. A few glared at me, but most either ignored me or, wonder of wonders, gave me a grateful nod.
One, a pale man I only vaguely recognized, stopped to ask a question. A last attempt to stop the exodus.
“Your dragon will protect us, surely? The bunker will be safe until he secures the island?”
“He’s not my dragon,” I snapped. “And he’s trying, but look around you!”
I couldn’t have timed my comment better—the roof of one of the nearest cabins tore off and blew away, carried by the dreadful wind.
“You can’t make your safety his responsibility. It’s dangerous for you, and unfair to him.”
“Lena is right,” Marisol said. “Lord Varyx will do his best, but the more people stay here, the more he has to worry about. So, we’re going now.”
Rather than giving the man time to reply, she marched through the crowd and into the storm.
She didn’t look back, serenely certain we’d all follow.
I envied her confidence and coolness under pressure, and it was effective.
Everyone followed her out into the lashing rain, even the vampire, who now looked more ashen than pale.
“You’re killing us all,” he said as he passed me, his voice barely audible above the storm. “There’s no way we’re getting to the portal without getting washed away.”
“Sorry about him,” Gwenhild said, rolling her eyes. “Gunter left his courage in the 8th century, but he’ll come around.”
Something about her tone said he’d better, and I didn’t want to hear what she’d do to him if he didn’t. It was good to know she’d watch my back, though.
“How did you know I’m Varyx’s mate?” I asked, mostly to change the subject, but she shot me a pitying look that made me regret it. Beside her, Thalassa giggled.
“It is a little bit obvious,” the sea serpent said.
“I’d have put money on it, even before today,” Greg added. “But now you’re marked, how could we miss it?”
I frowned and started to ask what the hell he was talking about, but Gwenhild interrupted with an annoyed noise and prodded me in the chest. I looked down to see dark energy flickering along a line under my skin. Faint but definitely visible, it followed a pattern beneath my skin.
A very familiar pattern. One I’d traced across a dragon shifter’s skin several times over the last few days. “Mother fucker.”
“You did not know?” Gwenhild asked, taken aback. “How?”
I felt my cheeks heat and shook my head. “It’s new.”
Only a small patch showed compared to Varyx’s full-body markings, but clearly the same. Varyx had left me something to remember him by.
As though I could ever forget.
The wind howled around us, sending beach furniture flying past as we staggered through the biting rain to the beach.
Gunter stopped halfway across the sand, radiating I told you so energy as he watched waves the height of a man crash over the pier.
How the hell were we supposed to reach the portal through that?
But staying here wouldn’t help, so I followed Marisol across the beach. Walking into the storm wasn’t easy. The wind plucked at me, threatening to pull me off the ground or hit me with flying debris. No one else fared any better, and we were a battered procession as we reached the sea.
As she walked, Marisol sang. At first, I heard nothing over the howling wind and cracks of thunder, but then the melody made it through, clear and beautiful words in a language I didn’t need to know in order to love.
She took her first step onto the pier, and the waves calmed. Golden light flickered around her, and the water settled as though listening to her song. The first oncoming wave burst around her as if it hit an invisible sphere, and the next died before it reached her.
The song tugged at me, pulling me along in the siren’s wake. Everyone else followed, mesmerized, and I realized just how powerful a siren’s voice was. All around, chaos reigned, but near her, even the storm paused to listen.
The portal at the end swirled with purple energy, twisting in strange ways as the Voidstorm raged. It hurt to look at, so I forced my eyes away.
Unfortunately, that took my gaze to the black cliffs of Varyx’s mountain, the source of the storm. The place where my dragon lover fought against the monstrous devourers trying to fight their way into reality.
All because of me. Me and my stupid, inquisitive fuckup.
I slowed, despite the pull of Marisol’s song. This is my fault. I can’t just run out on him.
Which was stupid. Varyx told me to go. He was willing to lay down his life for me, and for the others. How could I consider refusing that?
Because I don’t want him to die. It was a brutally simple answer and an impossible challenge. I stumbled to a stop, cursing under my breath.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I said to myself, the words lost in the storm’s roar. “There’s nothing I can do to help him fight. All I’d do is distract him.”
It didn’t sound very convincing. True? Probably, but not convincing. A world without Varyx was an awful price to pay for survival.
Marisol reached the vortex and turned back to wave us through, her staff lining up to guide the guests. All of them followed as quickly as they dared, drawn by her song and the promise of escape. I was the only guest not rushing toward the portal, which drew the siren’s attention.
I shook my head. She narrowed her eyes. I turned away, but her song twisted around my limbs and into my mind, and with all her attention on me, it felt impossible to resist. With no decision on my part, my feet took one step toward the portal, then another.
I tried ordering them to stop, and they took a third.
The waves grew larger, more violent, as she pulled magic out of the storm, sending it at me instead.
A wave struck Marisol at hip-height, and she only stayed upright by clinging to the portal as the sea tried to wash her away.
She didn’t stop singing, and I realized the siren meant to save me despite myself.
Touching, sure, but I refused to let her stop me.
I fumbled through my bag, meeting Marisol’s gaze. Hoping she’d be able to read my lips, I mouthed ‘sorry’ to her. Explanations would have to wait; I had a dragon to save. Fortunately, she didn’t realize what I was doing until I’d stuffed my earbuds into my ears and hit play on my phone.
The Voidstorm might not overcome Marisol’s song, but nothing could get through the heavy metal beat. It drowned out both the siren and the storm, letting me turn my back on the portal and dash toward Varyx’s mountain lair.
This is definitely a bad idea.