Page 82 of Tidal Creatures

There is no reply. There so rarely is, when talking to the dead. She sighs, feeling as emptied-out as the husk that was Catrina, and follows her son and the goddess of the moon out of the apartment.

She doesn’t even try to shut the shattered door. She just keeps walking.

Artemis has managed to guide Luis all the way to the end of the courtyard. The two of them are waiting there, giving her the space and time she needs to catch up. She hurries to join them. Her husband is dead but her son is alive, and the alchemist who transformed her not-quite-friend into something monstrous and sent it hunting for their escaped lab project is still out there. They need to get Luis to safety.

That means the house of the Doctrine, and Isabella is relieved when Artemis waves and starts walking in that direction, destination already set and verified. Luis keeps his eyes shut as he follows; he hasn’t realized yet that they’re never going back. Isabella’s heart aches for the moment when he’ll understand, which is coming faster than either of them would like and will change absolutely everything.

Still, she falls into step, and they walk without speaking to each other. Artemis continues to call out instructions to Luis, keeping him on the sidewalk, distracting anyone who sees them from the oddness of two women, one with a suitcase and the other with an unleashed dog, cutting through the neighborhood at this hour of the day. Not that Isabella is truly worried about being seen: they might not all have the preternatural camouflage the universe affords to incarnations like Kelpie, but for the most part, people see what they want to see, and they ignore the rest. She and Artemis are safe, as long as they’re not covered in blood and actively discussing murder.

The last thing she wants to talk about right now is her husband’s murder. She knows she’s not going to have a choice soon: it’s going to matter to the people she hopes will shelter them, and if the alchemists have moved to turning innocents into weapons and setting them against their enemies, that’s going to make a difference. That’s going to be the sort of thing the Doctrine, at the very least, should know about. But she’s had a long day. She’s tired. Her husband is dead, her home is effectively lost, and she’s not sure either one of them thought to grab dog food.

The thought summons the immediate, burning desire to turn and go back. It’s not an excuse; it’s an actual need to go get something the dog requires. And she knows she can’t give in. Even if, by some miracle, no one has noticed the smashed-in door or the body yet, giving in now will mean she never finds the strength to leave again. Let her son grow up in the care of the gods of the moon; she’ll stay with her love, who needs her now as much as ever.

She fights the urge and looks to Artemis, who is watching her with sympathy. She wonders what the other woman sees when she looks at her, whether she thinks Isabella brought this on herself by getting involved with forces beyond her comprehension, whether she’s angry. None of those questions lead anywhere good, and so she leaves them all unasked, instead asking, “How did you know to come?”

“Erin,” says Artemis. “She came outside and said there was a lot of disorganization rising from your area, and that if I wanted to stop some serious chaos, I should head over. Kelpie didn’t want to come, so she’s waiting back at the house. Unless she’s taken this as an opportunity to run for the hills.”

“What will you do if she has?”

Artemis shrugs. “Grieve, I guess. We both know the people who made her aren’t going to stop looking, and she doesn’t seem to have any natural defenses. I’m … more, when she’s with me, and echoes of it last a little while, or seem to. I couldn’t normally pull my bow even in a dark apartment with the sun still this high in the sky, but it came easily today, and I feel like I could pull it again if I needed to, although it wouldn’t last long. Maybe that’s what the companions are for. They make us more.”

“I’m glad you came. Luis doesn’t know it yet, but he’s glad too.”

“Yeah, well.” Artemis raises her voice. “Three big steps forward, and then stop.”

Luis does as he’s told, coming to a quivering halt on the corner, only about a foot and a half from the street. He stays frozen until the adults catch up to him, when Artemis gives the next instruction and he starts walking again, clearly enjoying this break from his usual routine, even if he doesn’t understand it.

“What was that back at the apartment?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation now?” asks Artemis, and nods her head toward Luis.

Isabella sighs, very slightly. “No, I suppose not. Soon.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Artemis pauses, then laughs, almost under her breath. “This has been a fun game, but he shouldn’t miss this. Open your eyes now!”

Luis stops and opens his eyes, then gasps at the sight of the carnival-bright house in front of him. He looks over his shoulder at the adults, a question in his eyes.

“Yes, that’s where we’re going,” says Isabella.

“The clown house?”

“Yes, please tell the nice people who live there that that’s what you and your friends call the house,” says Artemis, deadpan. “I’m sure that won’t upset them at all.”

Luis looks between her and his mother, uncertain. Isabella sighs again.

“No, buddy, she’s not being serious. You can go ahead and go into the yard, and even up the steps, but you wait for us there, you understand?”

Luis beams. “Okay, Mama!” He unhooks the gate and bounces into the unseasonably green yard, delighted as only a young boy on an adventure can be.

Isabella takes a great, shuddering breath, trying to grapple with the enormity of it all. She flinches when a hand settles on her shoulder, then turns to find Artemis watching her with sympathy.

“He’s safe,” she says. “That house isn’t even there when they don’t want it to be. No one’s going to find him or hurt him while they have him in their care, and they said you could come here for shelter. I don’t know how long-term that’s going to be, but for right now, he’s safe. I swear. Now let’s get you safe, too.”

Artemis leads her to the garden gate. Isabella steps through, and she’s paying attention this time, she feels the moment when the air changes, turning into something timeless and out-of-season, like the house runs on its own chronology. And maybe it does. It would be no stranger than anything else that’s happened today.

Luis is waiting at the top of the steps, eagerly looking at the glorious wonders around him, and Isabella can’t help being grateful that if this all had to happen, it happened now, while he’s young enough to be delighted by the adventure and not dwell on the reasons it would be happening. There’s time for grief later—and it will come, she knows.

Grief is the ultimate ambush predator. If it fails to catch its prey in the moment, it will retreat and lurk until its time arrives. And its time always arrives. It is the price we pay for having loved something, the misery that pours in to fill the holes that are left behind when it departs.