Children of the Sea 02 - Sea Fever

residual headache that exercising his magic always gave him. The map pulsed and swirled with color. “The gray”— great swathes of it—“indicates human habitation.
    The blue represents our people.”
     
    A few, too few, thousand scattered points of light, almost lost in the vastness of the oceans.
     
    “The children of earth are here.” Conn’s finger followed the trail of green along the mountain ranges, tapped the sacred places of the sidhe.
    “Demons here.” A sweep of his hand indicated the children of fire, spattered like blood across fault lines and land forms.
     
    Dylan stepped closer to the desk, narrowing his eyes in concentration. “I do not see the children of air on your map.”
     
    “Because they are not there. Angelic intervention is less common than most humans believe. Or would welcome,” Conn said dryly.
    “Besides, it is the demons’ activity that concerns me.”
     
    “Because of Gwyneth.”
     
    Conn’s rage welled, deep and slow as ice. Six weeks ago, the selkie Gwyneth of Hiort had been lured to land, stripped of her pelt, tortured, and killed by a demon in human form.
     
    “Because they murdered one of us,” Conn agreed, “and because they attempted to cast blame on the humans. I will not be tricked into taking sides in the demons’ war on heaven and humankind.”
     
    Dylan frowned at the map. The darkness Conn had sensed earlier was a red blot off the coast of Maine. “You may not have a choice. If the demons upset the balance—”
     
    “Margred restored the balance when she bound Gwyneth’s murderer in the sea.”
     
    Dylan raised one eyebrow. “A life for a life?”
     
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    “After a fashion.” Elementals were immortal. The selkie would be reborn in the sea; the demon was trapped for eternity. A fair enough exchange, in Conn’s view. “But Margred’s action carries its own consequences.”
     
    “You think she is in danger?” Dylan asked sharply.
     
    “I think she could be.”
     
    “Revenge?”
     
    Conn considered. The demons understood justice; they were not ruled by it. Revenge would certainly play a part in their response. But they were driven by more practical considerations. “Say, rather, that Margred’s demonstration of power may have put her at risk.”
     
    “Why are you telling me this?”
     
    “She married your brother.”
     
    Dylan’s lips pulled back from his teeth. “Unfortunately. She is human now. Which means her choices and her fate are really none of my business.”
     
    Or yours. The implication hung in the air, unspoken.
     
    “Unless she carries your brother’s child,” Conn said evenly.
     
    Dylan’s pale face turned white. There were feelings there, Conn thought. Feelings he would not hesitate to use for his own purposes.
     
    “What difference would that make?” Dylan asked.
     
    “Your mother’s blood was strong. Her gift was powerful. There are songs—” Prophecy or history? Conn wondered. Impossible to tell from the whales’ song. The great mammals had even less concept of time than selkies. “There are stories that a daughter of Atargatis’s lineage could forever change the balance of power and the destiny of her people.”
     
    “A daughter.” Dylan’s eyes were black. “Not a son?”
     
    Conn sympathized with his disappointment. Better for them both if Atargatis’s power had devolved to a son. To Dylan.
     
    29
     
    “The songs say a daughter.”
     
    “Then . . .” Dylan scowled, still regarding the red-tinged map of Maine. “My sister?”
     
    Conn shook his head. “Both your brother and your sister are human.
    So far the demons have considered them unworthy of notice. But if your brother were to have a child—”
     
    “Or if I did.”
     
    “Yes. I had hoped—” Conn broke off. He did not indulge in hope any more than anger. “The combination of your mother’s blood and Margred’s gift might be regarded as an advantage for our people. Or as a threat by the demons.”
     
    “So what do you want me to do? Tell my brother he shouldn’t fuck his wife?”
     
    Conn thought about it. “Would he listen to you?”
     
    “No.”
     
    Conn shrugged. “Just as well. Our numbers are declining. We need children. We need this child.”
     
    Dylan sneered. “Assuming he can get Margred pregnant.”
     
    “Assuming their child is selkie. And female. Yes.”
     
    “You assume a great deal.”
     
    Conn’s mouth twitched in a rare smile. “True.” And few of his court dared to