Page 47 of Tidal Creatures

“Join the others?” asks Kelpie, blankly. “They left.”

“They left the circle,” says Isabella. “Cleaning up the ritual supplies is my job, because I bring most of them to be sure they’ve been purified and treated correctly. Everyone’s all still in the house.”

“Oh.” Kelpie had truly believed that once the other women left, they were gone, rejoining their own lives outside the influence of the coven.

“I have to deal with the granola brigade in a social setting?” asks Erin, sounding genuinely horrified.

Smita elbows her as she rises, lightly and with affection. “It won’t hurt you. Come on, you might enjoy it.”

“There are usually sandwiches,” says Isabella, as if that changes things. She gathers a few more dishes, then gestures for Kelpie to get the ones filled with water. “You remember where the front door is?”

“Yes,” says Kelpie uncertainly, picking up the dishes.

The group exits the room roughly together. Isabella smiles reassuringly at Kelpie. “Just follow the voices once you’re done. We’ll be waiting for you.”

Indeed, the faint sound of unintelligible conversation drifts from the back of the house once they’re in the hall, marking the location of the rest of the coven. Kelpie turns away from Isabella and the others, carrying the dishes of water to the door, careful not to spill any on the polished floor. Her hooves leave little scuffs as she walks; Catrina will be able to see those, even if she didn’t see the hooves themselves. Kelpie wonders what the woman will blame for the marks. Will she decide someone must have kept their shoes on inside? Or will she find a way to justify it away?

It’s a small thing to be concerned with, scuffs on a floor. But as she lets herself gingerly outside, dishes balanced on her arm to keep from spilling, it seems like the most important thing in the world. If she can just make sense of the small things, the big ones will unsnarl themselves.

One by one, she tips the dishes out onto the lawn, watching the water cascade onto the uniformly cut green strands. She’s never seen a lawn by daylight before, and the smell of it is indescribable, bright and vibrant and living. Given her obvious cervine traits, she’s briefly concerned that the smell will trigger some biological need and have her down on hands and knees, chewing on the landscaping.

To her great relief, that doesn’t happen, and she straightens after tipping out the last of the water, taking a quick look around before she turns and flees for the front door, back into the safety of the house.

Once inside, she follows the sound of voices until she comes to the kitchen, which is nothing like Isabella’s. It’s as large as Isabella’s whole apartment, or close to it, for one thing; the ceiling is higher than any other she’s seen in this house, and one whole wall is windows, looking out onto a lush green backyard that’s clearly been landscaped to within an inch of its life to look like a wild and carefree garden. One half of the space is taken up by appliances and cabinetry, while the other half is occupied by an oval table, a large hutch full of very fancy dishes, and a dark wood sideboard.

Kelpie lacks frame of reference for this room, but she can tell it must have been expensive. Everything is gleaming, wood, metal, and tile, all of it polished with the same intensity as the backyard landscaping. The appearance of perfection is the only thing that matters here. The reality is less compelling.

The women from the coven are mostly seated at the table, while Catrina holds court against the counter, next to a tall stainless steel urn which the other women visit, one by one, like supplicants coming to an altar. The smell of coffee fills the air. A tray of pastries has been set out on the table, next to a tray of tiny crustless sandwiches.

Catrina waves the mug in her hand when Kelpie enters the room. “Our guest!” she proclaims jubilantly, as if she’d been the one to invite the stranger into their midst. It’s clear from the way the kitchen is laid out, the way people have positioned themselves, that she needs this moment to seem like the most important person in the room. This is where Catrina finds the power she was requesting during their circle, whether or not it’s real.

Isabella is one of the women at the table, seated at the end along with Smita and Erin. Kelpie pauses long enough to flash Catrina an uncertain smile, then hurries over to the safe familiarity of the woman she came in with and the dangerous newness of the only other cuckoo she’s ever knowingly met.

For her part, Erin seems to have noticed her the moment she stepped into the room. The other woman watches her every step, as silent as a snake. Kelpie stops next to Isabella, who looks up and smiles, reassuringly.

“Here, sit down, have a sandwich,” she says. “You look like you must be hungry, and this is a part of the coven meeting. The cooldown afterward. We can go soon, and you and Erin can talk more.”

“Or at all,” says Erin. “I don’t feel like we’ve even started scratching the surface.”

“Oh that’s so intriguing!” says Catrina, appearing at Kelpie’s side as if by magic, mug in her hand and a curious expression on her face as she focuses in on Erin. “Do I hear the chirp of lovebirds in the air? Oh, dear, Smita, I’m so sorry it looks as if your love may have a wandering eye!”

If she was trying to cause trouble, she missed the mark fairly widely. Smita blinks, twice, then turns to Erin as she starts to giggle. Erin isn’t that subtle. She begins to outright guffaw, laughing so hard all conversation in the kitchen stops, the other coven members turning to stare at her with suddenly focused fascination.

“You thought we were—” she manages to gasp, between peals of laughter.

Smita shakes her head, still more subdued in her amusement, and elbows Erin. “It’s not that funny; I’m not that unfortunate to look at! I make good money, I’m clever, and I knit, which means I’m useful around the house. You’d be lucky to have me.”

“I would,” admits Erin, slowly getting herself back under control. “But it would be like dating my sister, and I’m not that kinky.” She looks at Catrina, the last of the laughter slipping away, leaving her as reptile-calm as before. “Why does my wanting to talk to Isabella’s cousin mean I must be romantically interested in her? She’s at least ten years too young for me.”

Catrina sputters, then focuses on Isabella, apparently not wanting to risk Erin’s clear willingness to verbally draw blood. “We have a rule about guests at circle because you said we needed one. You said it could disrupt the energy in the room.”

“Yes,” says Isabella. “That’s correct.”

“Yet you brought two guests today.”

“We all agreed months ago that Erin was welcome if she ever wanted to stay and enjoy our company,” says Isabella. “And apprentices or initiates have never been considered guests. The rules allow them explicitly.”

“But don’t grant them membership.”