Page 112 of Cathmoir's Sons

Rhodes leads us to a tumble of regularly shaped rocks, crusted lichen and seaweed. We circle the rocks for a minute, checking for anything that might interfere with the transponders. I let my magic lick over the site. Old, old wards flare briefly blue, fading to an antique gold, before they shimmer out of sight. I release them gently. Whatever they protected—maybe an ancient fort, maybe a lighthouse—is long gone. A school of striped, silvery fish dart away from us, disturbed by the vibration.

Arch and I take the transponders out of our bags. We lay them in a diamond pattern among the rocks, fastening them with a charm that will hold them for a month and then dissolve with the transponders, leaving nothing to pollute the ocean or disturb its rhythms.

A sizzle around my wrist from Danny tells me the transponders are placed correctly. I give my team a thumbs up and they all echo my gesture. With a tug on the line. Rhodes leads us onward to the next grid.

We crest the mount, finding rock piles on which to place each set of transponders. As we place the last group, I’m lured by the dark mouth of a sea cave in the side of the mount. A yellow lobster, its tail tipped with red, scurries around the lip of the cave to disappear into a fringe of waving grass. I point it out to Rhodes. He nods but once Arch finishes affixing the last transponder, he pulls the line and leads us away.

From the mount, the sea floor falls away sharply, fading into blue depths. Rhodes doesn’t lead us down. Instead, he heads toward a rocky uplift, crowned with spires of coral and seaweed. We place more transponders after I break another nearly-exhausted ward. This ward doesn’t feel the same as the first one, which had a sense of solidity. This one repels very slightly, like a bad smell.

Three sharp stings from our bracelets have us heading back to shore. My arms and legs are heavy, sluggish, from the unaccustomed activity; I’m grateful for Rhodes’ golden line that keeps pulling me toward land. Arch tugs on the line hard and we all turn to look at him. He beats his chest with his free hand.

Rhodes swims to him and takes his hand. Arch immediately relaxes, probably because Rhodes is helping him breathe. I swim to Val and take her hand, pushing my Element into her to inflate her lungs. Rhodes signals “up” with his free hand. I nod and follow him as he kicks toward the surface.

The day has darkened to scudding grey clouds. A strong breeze pushes the waves into strange geometric shapes outlined by foam. I release Val’s hand, letting her tread water, while I float on my back to bring as much of my body back into contact with my Element. It’s so rare that I’m not immersed in Air that my magickal core feels oddly deprived. Once power flushes me again, I draw a set of runes in the Air and blow on them. A cushion of Air rises under us. Arch and Val flop into it gratefully. After Rhodes sees that I can steer it without him, he climbs into my magickal raft as well and puts his arm around me.

“That countercurrent was so much stronger than I was expecting,” I say. “It made for tough swimming.”

Rhodes nods. “It’s worst near the point, so we should work to the west as much as possible.”

We all agree.

“I saw something that definitely wasn’t a fish,” I tell Rhodes.

“I saw you point but not what you were pointing at,” Rhodes says. “Not a shark?”

I shake my head. “Scales were big and defined. The size of my fist.” I hold one up to demonstrate. “And pearly. I’m not aware of any pearly sharks.”

Rhodes chuckles. “Me, neither. You’re going to want to go back to that sea cave, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Legend says Charybdis lived in an underwater cave along this shore. Sure, that could have been an anthropomorphism, but legends often hold a grain of truth, so that’s where I want to start.”

“I’m betting on that trench to the west,” Arch says. “I thought we might be able to see it on this dive, but we didn’t get that far. I saw it on the underwater maps Danny had. Narrow and deep, perfect for a whirlpool.”

Rhodes grunts but doesn’t say anything. I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking: whirlpools are formed by tides. Thetopography of the seabed plays a part but meeting tides are what create whirlpools.

We float gently to land as the first drops from the heavy clouds patter against our wetsuits. I trudge over the wet sand to Danny and while Danny shows Arch where the transponders have been placed on a colorful map of the seabed, I walk a square around Danny’s set up, tracing runes in the sand. Digging a spare shirt out of my bag, I flap it in the sea breeze and watch it expand into a pavilion that covers our group and equipment.

I strip off the top of my wetsuit to let my skin breathe. Law walks over to me with a striped midnight blue and black sweater and drapes it over my head. It’s definitely his sweater; it smells deliciously like him. I lift handfuls of the warm fabric up to my face for a sniff. Law wraps his arms around me.

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” he says, nuzzling my ear. “But you can always sniff me if you need a hit.”

I nip his chin. “I love the way you smell. I saw a sea cave I want to investigate, once we have the magar online. And something that wasn’t a fish.”

Law grunts. “I saw that, too. Long, split tail.”

“Big, pearly scales. What has big, pearly scales?”

“A big, pearly dolphin?”

I chuckle. “I don’t think so.”

“Something to research when we’re back at the villa, tucked up with lemon tea in front of the fire.”

“That sounds good.”

“It’s a date, Professor.”

I squeeze him even while I wonder if I can still call myself “professor.” I’ve been ignoring my email since we arrived in Italy, focusing on the hunt, but I’m very afraid a summons from the Academic Standards committee is waiting for me.

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