The Water Witch (21 page)

Ooooh lu lu lu

Ooooh lu lu oooh

Looking west toward the sound, I saw nothing.

“Turn around,” Duncan whispered. “He’s thrown his voice to fool you.”

I turned and looked east, where a half moon hung in the branches of a white pine. At first I only saw the feathery branches outlined against the moon, but then one of those branches moved and acquired tufted horns and yellow eyes.

“A great horned owl,” Duncan said with pride, as if he’d conjured it himself. “I was hoping for one. It’s the strongest and smartest of the owls. Look at his eyes. Do you feel the Aelvesgold in your blood pulled by them?”

“Yes.” What I didn’t say was that they reminded me of Duncan’s eyes and the pull they’d had on me in my dream. As I stared at the owl, he bowed to us, hooting a long-drawn-out cry as if releasing the sound through the movement of his body.

Duncan bowed back, sweeping both arms out in a graceful swoop. In the moonlight, his shadow swirled around him like a cape. I imitated the motion. When I swept my arms out I felt the air moving over my skin, raising goosebumps on my flesh. When I lifted my head and met the owl’s eyes again, my skin bristled—from the nape of my neck down my spine to my
tailbone. The owl called again.
Whoooo are youuuu?
It seemed to ask.

“Kay-lex,”
I answered, my name becoming a series of clicks in the back of my throat. I bowed again, feeling my arms rise weightlessly on the breeze and my tailbone lengthen. My whole body was weightless. When I lifted my head this time, I saw that the owl’s eyes were not the only things glowing in the forest. Each branch and pine needle was tipped with moonlit white gold—another shade of Aelvesgold. Duncan had said the Aelvesgold inside me drew more Aelvesgold to it like a magnet. I was in control. I would find Lorelei and
compel
her to return to Faerie. How could she resist this much magic flowing through me?

I opened my mouth and let out a long, strange call. I heard an answering call beside me. I swiveled my head—how wonderfully flexible my neck had become! I would never need a chiropractor again!—and met Duncan’s azure eyes. Now they were set in the face of a great horned owl. He stretched out his wings and lifted off the ground. I raised my arms—now wings so long and strong I felt I could touch the moon—then swooped them down and felt myself rise on the night air into the trees. I would have gone higher, but Duncan’s voice in my head called for me to land beside him on a branch. I settled beside him, tucking my wings in and swiveling my head around to check that we were alone. We were. The other owl had flown away.

Listen
, Duncan said,
do you hear the water?

I twisted, bobbed, and dipped my head, twitching my ears toward a faint sound threading through the branches. One of my ears was higher than the other and, by positioning my head just right, I could not only hear the faintest sounds, but could tell exactly how far away they were. Yes, I heard running water. Thirty feet southeast of us.

That’s the Undine. We’ll follow it south through the woods. I’ll take the east side, you take the west. If you see anything, call out
.

I hooted a reply. Words seemed superfluous in this sound-rich, moonlit world. Not only could I hear every branch-creak and leaf-sway, I could see through the darkness as though it were day. Duncan hooted back and launched himself off the branch. I couldn’t hear him moving as he glided in between the trees. His enormous wings silently rode the wind. Then I couldn’t see him either. He had vanished into the thickly intertwined branches.

I had a pang of human fear. I was about to dive into the dark woods. Jen Davies had told me that the fey were flocking to Fairwick to be ready to return to Faerie if the door was closing. From deep inside me, I sensed that there were many otherworldly creatures in the woods, lurking in its shadows. That place inside me seemed to call to them—as if it
knew
them. Lorelei was not the only monster in these woods.

A breeze ruffled my feathers and I heard the sough of wind through the branches. My feathers
itched
to take flight. I stretched out my wings and plunged headlong into the woods.

I
followed the silver thread of the Undine south through the woods, the same path I’d followed with Liz, Soheila, and Diana only three days ago. I remembered slogging through the underbrush, pushing thorny vines out of the way, and swatting insects. Now I soared smoothly through the sky, effortlessly threading through low-hanging limbs. Not only could I clearly see where the limbs were, I
felt
them blocking the flow of air. All I had to do was follow the wind. I remembered that Soheila had told me once that the first incarnation she had taken as a wind spirit had been an owl. I understood why now. I was a
master
of the wind! I was faster than the deer that ran beneath me. Faster even than the beautiful doe and the great stag I’d seen last night, who looked up at me with fear when I swooped low over their heads. I was
master
of the forest, too!

I dipped up and down on my great silent wings, my eyes taking in every detail of the forest floor. I saw every twig and leaf, every field mouse in the underbrush and tadpole in the stream. I felt as if my eyes were truly open for the first time in my life. Was this my power unblocked? I felt stronger than I
ever had before and … 
unfettered
. Not just by the bounds of gravity, but also by the qualms of conscience I’d felt moments ago over Lorelei’s fate. She had threatened me and hurt me. She was my prey. When I found her, I’d swoop down on my silent wings and dig my talons into her slimy flesh. We’d see who ate whom.

But first I’d have to find her. It made sense that she’d be near the water, but as I sailed through the woods I realized that the Undine wasn’t the only water in the forest. My new eyes, which seemed to turn night into day, spotted flashes of water everywhere. Springs bubbled up from beneath rocks, still pools were scattered like silver coins under the trees, swampy marshland stood in the low places. As much water as I saw, though, I could
hear
even more. It was percolating deep below the earth in hollow caverns and running in underground streams. The whole forest was a honeycomb channeling water through a thousand secret passageways.

And the streams were full of plump trout, their gills iridescent with Aelvesgold. My mouth watered at the sight of them. It took all my willpower not to dive down and spear one with my sharp talons and tear into its raw flesh.

It would have been easy. Where springs bubbled up into pools, the trout hovered in the currents, transfixed. Easy prey. At one of these pools I found a fisherman standing knee-deep in the water, casting his line. I landed silently in an oak tree above him and observed. He wore rubber waders and a flannel shirt (big surprise!). His hair was cut short, exposing the meaty nape of his neck. When he drew back his arm to cast, I caught a glimpse of his face. His full lips were pursed with concentration, soft blond down grew over his plump cheeks … I recognized him. He was the young man from the diner who’d been chowing down on an Angler’s Special with his father and grandfather. The Stewarts, the waitress had
called them. Apparently the stories his grandfather had told him about fishing the Undine hadn’t deterred him from trying it. I soon saw why.

Within seconds of my landing on the branch, young Stewart was reeling in a huge trout. I clenched the branch with my talons to keep from stealing it out of his hand. He had plenty! His creel was full. I inhaled the smell of fresh fish … and something
less
fresh. A smell like spoiled sardines that was oddly familiar …

A splash in the water drew my attention away. I swiveled my head and cocked one ear toward the sound. It had come from the far bank of the pool. I trained my eyes on the bank and saw nothing … but then I noticed strange ripples in the water: a V-shaped pattern trailing streamers, heading straight toward young Stewart.

Stewart was too intent on his catch to notice the disturbance in the water. He took the hook out of the fish’s mouth, then slid it into his creel, trying to find room for it among the other fish, swearing when his new catch slipped from his fingers and landed in the water. He bent over to retrieve it … and a slim white hand broke the water’s surface and grabbed hold of his wrist. A puzzled look overtook his bland, plump face, and then the hand yanked and he toppled headfirst into the river.

I let out a screech and dove, talons out. I grabbed the collar of the young man’s shirt and pulled back, my wings beating the air. It was enough to bring his head and arms out of the water. He thrashed and sputtered, windmilling his arms, very nearly clocking me. I let go to get out of his way. A head rose out of the water beside Stewart, a head with long streaming hair, fish-belly-white skin, and malevolent green-black eyes:
Lorelei
. When Stewart saw her, he screamed and tried to backpedal away, but he tripped and fell backward into the
water. Lorelei no longer seemed to care about the fisherman. Her eyes were fastened on me.

“You!” Lorelei screeched. “Interfering again. What’s the matter? Can’t you find a man of your own?”

In answer, I dove straight at her, talons fully extended. At the last second, she ducked and evaded my attack. My claws grasped a hank of her hair and ripped it out. She screeched and flailed her arms, reaching for my wingtips. I beat the air backward to evade her grasp, and landed on a branch just above her head.

Lorelei snarled and snapped her teeth at me. “So now you’ve become a hunter, Doorkeeper.” Through her defiance, I heard the fear in her voice. It made me hungrier for her blood. I spread my wings out for another attack and her eyes widened. “Keep your prize. I like my meat fresh and this one’s nearly dead.”

As I dove, she plunged into the pool in a great wave. My claws grasped only water. I could just make out her long, sinuous white body cleaving the black water, and then she vanished in a flash of light. I felt an urge to follow her, but then I recalled what she’d said about young Stewart. I swiveled my neck and saw that he was still lying on the muddy bank. The water level had risen above his head. He’d drown if I didn’t do something. I flew over him and snagged his shirt collar in my talons, dragging him backward. It was hard work: he was a big guy, his sopping clothes and rubber waders adding weight. I got him halfway out and then cocked my head to his chest to listen for breathing. Even my acute owl senses couldn’t pick up any.

I gave one more screech and then I willed myself back into human form. I tilted back the young fisherman’s head to clear his airway and struck his chest, once, twice, three times. Opening his mouth, I winced at the reek of chewing tobacco,
but still I blew in. I repeated the procedure until he heaved and spit pond water in my mouth. I spat, wiped my mouth, and sat back on my heels to watch him cough and retch, unsure what else I should do but not feeling right about leaving him. It was too late to try to follow Lorelei anyway. Besides, now that I was in human form, my bloodlust had dissipated.

When he’d finished coughing up water, I patted him on the back and, not sure what else to say, said, “Thataboy. It’s okay.”

He turned and stared at me, his eyes going round as marbles and then going up and down.
Crap
. I was naked. I started to cross my arms over my breasts, but then thought
Heck, what’s the point?
Covering myself at this stage seemed kind of cringing and undignified.

“You!” he gasped. Was he about to faint? Or attack me? He might think I was the one who’d tried to pull him underwater. “You!” he spluttered again, staring at me wide-eyed as he painfully pulled himself into a sitting position. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life!”

I snorted pond water out my nose. The guy was … what? Nineteen? He lived on a farm with his father and grandfather. How many naked women could he have ever seen?

“Thank you,” I said, wiping my nose. “That’s nice of you …”

“I mean it! You’re more beautiful than …” He creased his brow, clearly trying to think of beautiful women of his acquaintance. “Angelina Jolie!”

I laughed again. He
was
kind of cute. “Well, I don’t know about that, but again, thank you. I’m just glad you didn’t drown. You know, you really shouldn’t fish here.”

His eyes went even wider. “Are you the Lady of the Lake? Did I break a rule so you had to punish me?”

“No! Or … er … yes!” I straightened my spine and
shook out my hair. “I am the Lady of the Lake,” I intoned in a deep, sonorous voice. I used a little bit of what I’d learned as an owl to make my voice echo-ey. “I protect these woods and streams. Tell all your friends that no one should come fishing here. Or else!”

“Or else what?”

“Um … or else they’ll feel my wrath!”

He furrowed his brow again. “But you saved me,” he said. “Only so you could spread the word. Next time I won’t be so lenient.”

“You’ve got feathers in your hair.” He leaned closer to me, not at all cowed by my act. “Hey, you’re not the Lady of the Lake, are you?”

I slumped, disappointed at myself for not being able to pull it off. Angelina Jolie would have. “Okay, you got me.”

“You’re an owl princess!” he said, plucking a feather from my hair. “You’re one of those animals that turn into beautiful women. My nana told me stories of your kind—selkies and swan maidens.”

I sighed. I would get the one fisherman raised on animal-bride tales. “I’m not an owl princess.”

“You are! And I’ve got your feather, which means you gotta come with me and be my wife.”

I punched him in the arm. “That’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his arm and looking hurt. “You don’t want to marry me?”

“Sorry, but no. Not that you’re not a perfectly nice young man … um …”

“MacKenzie Stewart, but my friends call me Mac. I just got my associates degree in ag business from SUNY Cobleskill. I’m a partner in my family’s dairy farm. I’m going to turn the whole thing organic. You should like that, being a bird and
all … Oh, gosh, we do raise chickens, though. We could go free-range if that would make it better … and I guess I could become a vegetarian …” His brow creased again, no doubt wondering if I was worth giving up Big Macs. “… or maybe you don’t mind eating meat, you being a carnivorous bird.”