Broken Wave: Cryptid Coterie, #2

By Winifred Burton

Tabitha Slate used to worry about her grades or being the only Black girl in her engineering classes. Then she bumbled into the Wardein: the guardians who protect Seattle from its supernatural human hybrid and cryptid citizens hiding in plain sight. She joined them and swore an oath to perform her duty, even if it meant her life. But Tabitha has lost one of the best friends she ever made, and she blames the leader of the Wardein.

 

What's left of Tabitha's family is unraveling, an evil djinn with a score to settle is targeting her and her housemates, but Tabitha is on her own. The Wardein are busy with the biggest threat they've ever faced: Someone is trying to breach the Trench, the only barrier between the Puget Sound and a voracious horror nearly as old as the sea.

 

Tabitha's world is in pieces. Divided between loyalty and duty, she's afraid she will choose the wrong person to protect, the wrong family to abandon, and the wrong person to love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cirrina Books
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9780991466191

Book preview

PROLOGUE

She clutched the wrought iron bars of the fence, and bathed her face in the sharp metallic steam that rose between her curled fingers. The house beyond the gate wavered in and out of focus. She flicked her tongue against her top lip and savored the damp. This place was exactly as she remembered it.

A rotund man shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, stretching up next to her, his tweed suit jacket sleeves receded with the extension, exposing the pasty dimples of his wrists. He adjusted the wide crimson umbrella he sheltered her with, and ignored the water that rolled into his upturned nostrils, threatening to drown him one drop at a time. He drummed the taut mound of his stomach, and strained against his belt. The sparse fluff on top of his head barely reached the black lace ruffle edge of her short-sleeved shoulder. Pain skipped down his ribcage and into his groin. Each second contorted in the ridiculous position carved discomfort into his joints. This reunion was not going how he had imagined.

He cleared his throat gently. When that went unnoticed, he allowed the umbrella to dip forward and deposit a sheet of water onto her face. A silky hiss of steam coiled around the slice of her cheekbones. Her full red lips peeled back to the gums. Only an idiot would mistake this jagged display of carnivorous ivory for a smile.

She said, darling, I wouldn’t, without even glancing at him.

He lowered his eyes and extended his arm once more.

I don’t suppose you still have a key? He said, and chuckled enough for both of them.

She ignored him and abandoned the shelter of the umbrella and pushed the gate open, pleased that the heavy corner edge, crooked with wear, scraped sparks across the paving stones, just as it had in her day. He waited at the threshold. The slow, sweet, rot of youth perfumed the air, and she was drawn to it.

She stalked up the path, but her second foot never touched the stair. She stood perfectly still, rebuffed by an invisible repellent that wouldn’t let her retreat or advance. Her arms hung useless at her sides, but her destructive resources were vast. She spat an iridescent arc at the front door, dropped her head back and ground her teeth, her breath exploded in a roar, igniting the fluid trail that still dripped from her lips.

The fireball leapt toward the house and she waited for the first licks of flame to engulf the entrance. Just because she was not welcome to ring the doorbell, didn’t mean she couldn’t be satisfied watching it burn. The porch rumbled with the grind of stone joints and the scuff of fossilized feathers. Two creatures of rosso levanto marble reared onto their hind legs, the powerful flanks of lions, and blocked the path with a deep terracotta expanse of eagle’s wings. Satisfaction flared to irritation when her fireball met an impenetrable shield of rock.

They opened their beaks and in gravelly unison, spoke with the tongues of men. Leave this house now or forfeit your life.

Fluidity returned to her limbs and she reconsidered her attack, shrugging off failure. She had waited generations; another night was hardly an imposition. She meant to relish the terror of her descendants.

She gathered her skirt in her palm, and swished the tail of her gown behind her in retreat. As she crossed the threshold of the gate onto the sidewalk, she glanced backward. The guardians were crouched and still, statuary once more.

She sighed and said, If we cannot go to the young women who need our guidance, we must bring them to us.

That sounds like the good old days. What did you have in mind?

She rubbed her fingertips together until they sparked like flints, and said Every foundation is plagued by the roots of disloyalty; we must simply encourage its full blossom into betrayal.

Her nails dragged across the bars of the fence as they walked away, the glowing red trail burned into the iron the only evidence they’d been there at all.

1

Tabitha Slate listened to the sloosh of the liquid network as industrial grey water laced with blood, bits of human tissue in varying states of decay, and prescription drugs, flowed through the pipes above her. She'd learned to filter her weapon. Controlling water with her will had become as easy as lacing her boots, even if the contamination made her gag. She sorted and released particles of the wrong density, then molecules of the wrong polarity. Nothing but distilled water remained. A trace of the revolting taint lingered in her focused intention like an aftertaste on her palate. A few months ago being able to boil water simply by thinking excitation bubbles into the liquid was thrilling, but the better she got at waveworking, the more Tabitha wondered what it meant to use it as an understudy Wardein. Surely they hadn’t needed her specifically to force open the water main.

Fetid gasses dissipated into the air as the broken pipe flooded the clinic's stairwell. The lights went out.

Another perfect Friday night, wading in stench, alone in the dark. Yep, I'm living the privileged dream of life with superpowers.

Tabitha’s lonely words bounced off the concrete walls. Her sensitivity meant that she could feel the water level rising onto the flight of stairs below her before she saw the red glow of the exit lights reflected on its surface.

A thud shook sediment free from the landing above, in answer to one of Tabitha’s questions. The rumble of combat threatened to cave the ceiling. Either Zenobia was kicking the snot out of the choorile, or an elephant herd was redecorating the upper floors. Zen was an earthquake in human form. A flick of her palm could reshape a coastline but she was equally stuck, flinging destruction at a creature that wasn’t even corporeal half the time, because that was the gig.

The violent shudders of the building renewed Tabitha's sense of boredom. Why was she even here? Zen could handle this dust up. At least Art managed the gear. Tabitha was decorative. Motes of dust drifted into the soft, hazy black of her unrestrained hair and her organs rattled inside her rib cage. She doubted there'd be anything left of the choorile when Zen was done tenderizing it.

Water sloshed over Tabitha's ankle boots. She recoiled to avoid the surge, only to back into the sticky, glutinous grasp of the very creature that was supposed to be someone else’s problem right now. Tabitha struggled to free herself from the choorile’s vice-like grip, but the squeeze around her shoulders and waist only tightened. She pulled water to her, desperately willing it to swell at her call, but unsure of how to use it to get away. An explosion shattered the fire door and Zenobia yelled down in warning.

Mind yourself Tabitha!

She heard shrapnel slice the air as it cartwheeled into the cement, but the emergency lights were not up to a crisis of supernatural proportions and she couldn’t avoid what she couldn’t see. Tabitha fumbled for consciousness as the choorile choked the life out of her. The quivering mass of sentient goo conformed and contracted to her body, learning her, probing her for weakness. Floating wisps of color blurred her vision. She wouldn’t outlast it, and every wriggle of resistance brought her deeper into its embrace. Tabitha did the only thing she could do: surrender on her terms. Her body slackened into the malevolent sludge, her feet pedaled air, and in the breathless fractions of a second, she braced for the fall.

A jagged chunk of stair cut through the wriggling choorile and bit into Tabitha's flesh on impact. Glittering blue light filled the darkness. Her skull knocked painfully against a step when the choorile melted beneath her, but she was free. She braced her side with careful fingers, peeled the velvet of her cape from the cement floor, and blindly retreated. She remembered that chooriles hated water. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she looked down. The light turned the blood seeping through her fingers to a dark magenta stain. Not suffocating in a gummy embrace was progress, but she wasn’t safe yet. Tabitha pushed her shoulder against the cool metal surface of the exit door and lurched to her feet. Zenobia and Art crash-landed at her side. Blue luminescence rolled off the walls and the surface of the water.

Dammit Tabitha, how bad is it?

Zen gently laid her palm over the wound. The rhythm of Tabitha's circulatory system drummed a pressure tattoo against Zenobia's skin.

Tabitha you can slow that down right?

Tabitha couldn't believe she'd been so stupid. She searched for the tingle that fluttered her senses and warmed her skin, sharpening her feelings into will. The effort of focus staggered her.

Zenobia absorbed Tabitha's swaying bulk without shifting a muscle.

Tabitha, Zen said I can stop the bleed but I need you to stay awake. Job's not quite done, and I'm going to need your help. Now brace yourself, this is going to feel terrible.

Zen that's not helpful! yelled Art, but Tabitha floated in a bubble of weakness beyond dread.

Zenobia drew two fingers back across the pad of her thumb, and tenderly peeled Tabitha's hand from the gash. Careful to avoid contact, she placed her hand a breath away from the injury’s surface then flicked her fingers across her thumb, .

The force detonated against the skin. Tabitha’s knees buckled, but Zen didn't let her go. The sense that she was blacking out faded and she smacked back into the reality of a stairwell filling up with dirty water. She straightened her spine and stared back at Zen.

That's it girl, tighten it up.

Tabitha gritted her teeth, grateful to be conscious if lightheaded.

Thanks Zen, it got me good. Actually, I got me good, but I had to get it off me.

The bright blue light flared in the dark and Art scrambled with the contraption she'd been carrying since they left the ship an hour ago.

No good in here. Art said. If I try to access the rhizome under a foot of water with this gear I might corrupt the entire terminal.

Zen growled, Weavers. What does that mean Art?

Art's hands slipped on the handles of the metal contraption balanced awkwardly on her arms. She lurched forward with its weight, only the black tubing that tethered the box to the woven leather harness across her shoulders prevented the trap from falling into the water.

Tabitha tried to warn Art to be careful but her mouth didn’t work quite right. Zen and Art’s expressions were frozen in alarm. Tabitha opened her mouth to insult their gaping expressions, but before she could complete her thought, she felt a rush of glossy blackness and the novel sensation of the ground rising up to meet her.

Tabitha sputtered awake. A sudden leveling force pressed her into a soft flat surface, and then retreated just as quickly, leaving her dizzy. She was in her berth aboard the rust bucket the Wardein called headquarters. She inhaled deeply when the current tugged at the ship’s hull, and pitched herself upright as the swell retreated. She ached everywhere. She pulled her still damp chenille sweater over her head and flung it onto the floor in disgust. She’d have to scold whoever was on newbie rescue detail; wet clothes and warm beds were a terrible combination.

She swept her hands over the thick bandages covering the new hole in her side, and cursed her own ineptitude. In hindsight, repeatedly flinging her body into cement was not a brilliant defensive strategy. She dreaded reading Zenobia’s log of what happened. That she had not contributed to a successful mission was obvious, but a full account of her failure would make for fascinating reading. At least she didn’t have to worry about public humiliation. As far as she knew there was no cryptid magazine, no Wardein Weekly, to make fun of how bad she was at her job. She didn’t know how long it took to transition from clueless to capable, but the plodding regression after every step forward was exhausting.

She hopped off her bunk, and winced over to a dresser built into the dull wood paneling of the cabin. She rummaged through the drawers until she found her spare cape, a grey blouse with deep wrinkles in its draped collar, and a long flannel skirt she’d had for so long, she couldn’t remember if it had intended to be grey from the start. She pulled on a fresh pair of thick, not-quite-big-enough tights, covered her wounds with her clothing and carefully exited her room.

Tabitha limped to the end of the dim corridor, grateful for the peaceful rocking of the ship, and opened the pneumatic door. Of all the spaces she’d gained access to since she became a Wardein, the bow cabin of this decommissioned ferry was the most haunting. A dingy halo of light shone through the portholes. It flattened and obscured the cabin’s copper contours into layers of shadows. She sensed the cool rectangular bulk of Vieira’s tank across the room. Its whisper filled the space as it sucked up and filtered the sea, but she couldn’t actually see it.

Wind moaned against the hull. Her fingers curled into the soft meat of her hands. She strained her ears, and exhaled in deliberate measure. She waited out the silence, and when nothing happened, she sighed and said to herself Oh Tabitha, you may not be a badass but you are a first class velvet-wetter, even when you’re safe and alone. Your Scaredy-Cat skills are next level.

A quiet rasp in the dark answered, Even the dark fears itself.

Tabitha’s heart pumped ice. Her muscles burned as she snapped her arms out, palms first and shifted her center of gravity into a squat as Vieira taught her. Every nightmare she’d had for almost four months was just like this. They were always the same: that voice taunting her on this boat. The scrape of metal against metal triggered Tabitha. She snatched water from Vieira’s tank with one hand and imbued it with mortal force. The blow glanced off target, and shattered a porthole. Shards of glass showered into the cabin.

Sue said I’m not transformed Tabitha. If I were transformed, we’d be having a very different conversation. I’m going to turn on the lights. You’ll calm down when you can see me.

Not a chance. Stay where you are. I’m going to get a containment kit, and I will turn on the lights. If you slither a single muscle I will send you and this rust bucket to the bottom of the Sound.

Tabitha didn’t know if she could work waves on a ship sinking scale, but she was more than willing to attempt it. She’d risk anything to give herself a chance against It.

How could she have been so careless! She’d assumed the other Wardein were out. She swore that she would never get sealed up in this tin can alone with Sue. She’d rather listen to Zen play bass drums with her feet, Art and Foster argue about ley circuitry, and get a disapproving lecture from Amelia all at the same time. She’d rather call her younger, prettier, gossipy sister Whitney and ask her for fashion and dating tips. Sue looked like a harmless silver haired housewife, but Tabitha never forgot that an endless coil of smooth white scales and fangs hid behind that facade. The predatory light in Sue’s fish belly blue eyes never went out. For Tabitha, cryptid surveillance and policing started in the home.

Tabitha scuttled to the other side of the cabin, and pressed the antique light switch. An array of recessed footpath lights winked on, illuminating a path to the cabin doors. They weren’t very bright but she had visual confirmation that she was not sharing airspace with a twenty-five foot winged snake with a nasty sense of humor. She decided against a containment kit; the time wasted searching for one was time that gave Sue time to contain her instead. It was better to be off the ship and away to safety.

Sue said, I love this kind of light, the border between night and day. There’s just enough to see that we’re just two sworn guardians of the Wardein having a non-lethal conversation, but not enough light to blind me.

Yeah because it’s important that giant, human-dangling snakes have mood lighting when they are crushing the life out of innocents. Whatever. I’m leaving.

You’re not allowed because you’re wounded. You’re to stay here. You’re feisty aren’t you? That’s good. The motto of our order, translated from the Mycenaean means ‘Brave and Stupid’. Sounds better in Mycenaean of course. Strictly speaking, I only constrict to stun. I prefer it when my food wriggles.

Tabitha bit the insides of her lips. The last time Sue or It, had called her feisty, she had been in its grip, fighting for her life at her Wardein initiation, and losing. She took a deep breath and visualized the ferry floating in the dilapidated marina. She reached out with her will, felt the vastness of the water around her, the many billions of molecules strung together, as they rocked, advanced, and retreated. When she exhaled, she sank to one knee and slammed her palms into the deck.

The rusty ferry groaned in protest, as Tabitha’s undertow pulled it to its starboard side. Chairs slid across the cabin, and she tucked herself into a squishy ball, and prayed that she rolled away from Sue.

The ship rocked back, and Tabitha was relieved she’d tipped herself to the exit. She gathered her energy to strike again, but a furious thump splashed frothy water across the floor. Vieira, bare breasted and dripping with glittering strands of polished sea glass and precious stones, had swum into her tank from the passage beneath the ship.

Sue! I heard that! What is the matter with you? said Vieira, her fin slapping against the glass.

I was correcting a misconception about who I am. The rookie overreacted.

I don’t give a damn! yelled Vieira in her full-throated eastern seaboard warble. What you are Sue, is on a ship! Don’t piss off the unstable water hybrid!

Tabitha interrupted Vieira, Oh, right because it’s totally unreasonable of me to freak out when I awake to find that I’ve been left vulnerable in the care of a coworker, that just happens to have eats coworkers on her resume! Everyone knows giant snakes make the best babysitters of wounded victims. What could possibly go wrong with that plan! Not to mention you’re not exactly the poster child for Sane Mermaids of Puget Sound.

Sue eyed Vieira warily.

Oh dear, it’s time for me to go. She turned to Tabitha, I owe you a formal apology. If you don’t survive the rest of this conversation, I’ll be happy to mail it to your loved ones. Then the cabin was silent except for the muffled friction of Sue’s fleece tracksuit, as she hurried away.

Vieira tossed her hair and pushed her shoulders back as she smiled at Tabitha.

What do you mean by that?

Tabitha rolled her eyes.

Now Vieira, you can’t honestly tell me you don’t know that you’re sometimes, like, a bossy goldfish who should switch to decaf?

Vieira responded by revolving so fast a wave flowed over the lip of her tank. She snorted, and shook her head at Tabitha in wonder.

You talk a lot. Too much. I’ll admit you got the drop on Sue, even if it was late and she already had the drop on you. Do you know how to defend yourself without lashing an anchor to you and your attacker and hoping that works out? You already got wounded on the choorile mission and had to be carried home. Any other, you know, self-defense innovations you gonna dazzle me with?

Tabitha couldn’t believe she was still being yelled at. This is so unfair! What are you mad about? I’m the one that was nearly eaten alive.

"Sue was right. You overreacted Tabitha. It’s smart to be wary of Sue. She’s predictable until she isn’t, and her willpower is the only thing standing between us and that big time evil inside her. Yeah she sometimes says horrible things, but unless she’s transformed and doing horrible things, we don’t try to kill her. We absolutely do not resort to sinking the Wardein command center for the western territories in the process."

Tabitha crossed her arms and pouted but she didn’t argue.

Suit up kid. There’s daylight left and I want to show you something in the water.

When she trained with Vieira in open water, she wore a wetsuit beneath her clothes to keep her focus on wave working instead of staying warm. Tabitha pressed the pneumatic panel to return to her room.

Fine. What are you going to show me now?

Vieira arched her eyebrows.

What bossy looks like.

2

Tabitha raised her arm too late. The slick scaly flesh of Vieira’s tail slapped her face; a thick articulated hammer that knocked her beneath the spume. She sank without resistance.

The seconds it took to resurface were her only respite. Tabitha preferred the smooth, dark currents of Elliot Bay, to the icy needles of rain that waited to stab her eyes and cheeks. She stopped counting how many times she’d been forced under after the first dozen. Provoking a mermaid to melee in open water was the stupidest thing she had ever done.

Tabitha bobbed to the surface and said Wait, wait, wait!

Vieira’s mane of black curls rippled over her shoulders into a dark glistening mantle. The mermaid’s pale orange skin glittered in the oppressive grey afternoon. Tangled ribbons of storm clouds bunched