Page 48 of Tidal Creatures

“No, not at all. Kelly isn’t a member, she’s not an initiate, and she won’t be attending every circle with me. But as my new apprentice, it was important for her to see what we do here, so she can understand it for herself. She may be running things for me one of these days, after all.”

Catrina sputters, and the whole story comes clear in that reaction. She wants power; she’s said as much. She expects to be able to control the world and people around her without too much difficulty. She offered up her home for the coven meetings; she supplies these pleasant refreshments, which Kelpie is sure are expensive or otherwise special in some way. She’s their hostess. She’s important. And here’s Isabella, telling her without coming out and saying it, that she won’t be the next coven leader, that she’s going to be passed over for a quiet girl she just met, all because that girl has a familial relationship to Isabella.

Kelpie watches the way Catrina’s eyes change, and wonders if Isabella is so used to her environment that she’s no longer sensitive to its dangers. The lab didn’t prepare her for a lot of things aboveground. It prepared her for egos, though, the way they could bruise, the way they could fester; the way they could get so large they pulled the air out of a room, leaving no space for anything but admiration of the ego’s owner. Catrina isn’t quite that bad, but she needs some fawning over or she’s going to become dangerous.

“Did you make these sandwiches yourself? They look delicious,” she says, trying to break the growing tension.

Catrina turns to blink at her, and the hostility that has been building in her expression falls away, replaced by a patronizing softness that Kelpie’s seen before. It’s the look the techs get when she asks them to explain something they consider blatantly obvious, and it means she’s not seen as a threat in this moment—she’s part of the furniture, almost an excuse to show off cleverness and very little more.

“Oh, no, dear, I don’t do my own cooking,” says Catrina. “That would be beneath me. I have a lady who makes these things on my behalf. I do set the menu, however, so everything you taste is a demonstration of my attention to detail.”

Kelpie doesn’t see how you can tell someone else to mix every step of your experiment and still claim the experiment shows your attention to detail, but she’s trying to placate Catrina, not argue with her, so she only smiles and nods. “Well, she did an excellent job, and you have fabulous taste—and a beautiful home!”

Flattery does indeed appear to be the way into Catrina’s good graces. The woman preens, standing a little straighter, gesturing to the kitchen with the mug in her hand. “I chose all the décor myself.”

“It’s very … harmonious,” says Kelpie, who can’t think of a better way to say “beige” without it turning into an insult.

Isabella stands, putting a hand on Kelpie’s shoulder, and smiles at Catrina. “We’re heading out. I have an afternoon appointment that Kelly has promised to accompany me on as an observer.”

“Coven business?” asks Catrina, almost hungrily.

“Hechicera business,” Isabella corrects. “It’s not an exorcism—those are church territory—but it’s asking an unquiet spirit to please move on and stop bothering the people who knew it in life. I wouldn’t bring anyone at all with me, but Kelly is trained enough to protect herself, and she needs to understand this part of the business if she’s going to take it over someday.”

Kelpie tries to look brave and wise, although she doesn’t really feel like either of those things.

Erin and Smita rise from their own seats and move to join the pair. Catrina’s face falls and then falls further, as she sees all the people she was most hoping to make inroads with clearly preparing to leave.

“If you’re sure,” she says, and her tone manages to imply without stating that Isabella is making a terrible mistake, that taking Kelpie instead of Catrina is akin to attempting to remove a nail with a fork instead of the claw end of a hammer. But because she doesn’t say it, Isabella doesn’t have to answer it.

That seems to be the way people communicate outside the lab. Tones and looks and implications, things unsaid but inferred. Kelpie doesn’t like it. They may have lied to her belowground, but they were blunt about it, not trying to tie her into knots with social signals she didn’t have all the background to understand.

Isabella makes a quick circuit of the room, saying her individual goodbyes to all the members of the coven, and then the four of them head for the door, Catrina watching them go. Erin slouches along at Smita’s side, hands in her pockets, walking like she’s never rushed a day in her life and isn’t intending to start now. Kelpie makes sure she stays on the other side of Isabella. She knows an apex predator when she sees one. There’s so much she doesn’t know, so much she still needs to learn, but she and Erin are both cuckoos, and she knows when she’s in danger.

Once they’re outside, Erin’s affect changes. She stands straighter, moving so as to stand between Smita and Kelpie and the street, as if she can somehow block them both from view. Suddenly uncomfortable, she glances up and down the sidewalk, and mutters, “It’s moments like this where I wish I hadn’t gotten over my Hand of Glory addiction.”

Smita elbows her in the ribs, and this time it’s not so gentle. Erin jerks away, putting up her hands.

“Hey, kidding!” she says. “Do I look like I’m trying to find someone I can get away with murdering?”

“Not a funny joke,” says Smita.

Kelpie looks between the two of them, baffled. Isabella is less subtle.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, in another timeline, I”—Erin gestures to herself, then to Smita—“stabbed her to death, chopped her hand off, and turned it into a Hand of Glory that I was going to need later. In this timeline, I chloroformed her, dragged her out of the lab before I torched the place, and let her keep both her hands. I didn’t need the second Hand because I hadn’t used the first hand completely on the night I was supposed to kill her. It was a whole thing.”

“I don’t remember this at all, but since all five of the people I live with insist it really happened, I’m inclined to believe them,” says Smita.

“Anyway, this is where I tell the two of you that you’re coming home with us,” says Erin, frowning. “I need you to meet my housemates so we can figure out what we’re going to do next. And this isn’t something that’s up for discussion, so I’m sorry if this isn’t how you wanted to spend your afternoon. If you really need to be dealing with an unquiet spirit or whatever, just give me the address and I’ll do it.”

“That was just to get us out of there,” says Isabella. “I don’t do spirit removal.”

“Pity,” says Erin. “Could have been fun. Anyway, come on. We’re going this way.”

She waves for Isabella and Kelpie to follow, then starts down the street. Smita stays where she is until she can take up the rear of their little group.

None of them sees Catrina watching from the window as they walk away.