Normal is boring, her otter told her.
“We released Gizelle from a madman’s prison less than a year ago,” Scarlet explained. “She remembers nothing but being a gazelle for all of her life in his zoo. We have no idea how old she is, or where she came from before then. She may even have been born there.” She gave Jenny an intense, appraising look. “How much do you remember?”
Jenny gazed back at Scarlet without seeing her. “I remember driving. It was Laura’s car, I was just going to get her a few things from the supermarket. There was an explosion - I lost control of the car, and it went off a curve. I remember going through the guardrail…”
She shuddered, remembering the scream of metal and the drop into the shattering ocean below, hitting her head, waves and water and sinking…
Comfort came from an unexpected source.
I caught you. I was there for you.
Jenny pushed back. She didn’t want to be grateful to the interloper in her head.
“I shifted,” she said woodenly. “I’ve never shifted before. I didn’t know I could. I don’t think I could, before.”
Scarlet listened, but offered no comment.
Jenny worked her mouth, trying to find words for what came next. She had been more otter than herself, eating, swimming, floating in sleep. She was drawn south, swimming earnestly, day after day, through currents that became gradually warmer.
“I found Laura after her boat exploded. I didn’t really think about things, only knew that I had to help her, and where I could find that help.”
“Shifting Sands was always meant to be a safe haven for shifters,” Scarlet said, nodding.
Jenny felt her eyebrows scrunch together. “Shifting… Sands. I worked on the contract for this place.” Life before this seemed impossibly distant and long ago. “I was - I am - a lawyer.”
“What else do you remember?” Scarlet asked gently.
“I remember Fred,” Jenny said firmly. “He betrayed us. He was the one who sabotaged Laura’s car, and her boat. And… our parents. He killed our parents, so long ago.” Somehow, it stung as much now as it had when Jenny had first uncovered the treachery, weeks ago.
“He’s in custody,” Scarlet promised fiercely. “He will never be able to hurt you again.”
Jenny tried to take comfort in the idea, and nodded.
Somewhere, far away, there was a beep of a car horn and shouting voices, and Scarlet frowned. “Let me take you to the dining hall. You’ve missed lunch, but there’s a buffet available and you must be hungry after your long ordeal.”
On cue, Jenny’s stomach rumbled, and she and her otter finally agreed on something.
“I’m famished,” she admitted. Then she added, “Just please, tell me I don’t have to eat raw fish or urchins for a long, long time.”
She didn’t think she would ever enjoy a sushi bar again.
Chapter 3
Travis rolled out bed when he woke up, habit driving him to get dressed before he registered that it was already midday, and that he actually felt well-rested.
He got dressed and wandered to the kitchen to appease his lynx’s cries for food, and found a quarter of a pie dish full of shrimp kale quiche with his name on it. The cake had a new note on it: “Dragon germs don’t scare me.”
Through the open windows of the house, he could hear distant sounds of the resort below, the ocean and the pool waterfalls making a pleasant backdrop to the hum of activity. It was quieter than the day before. Travis imagined the last guests, nursing hangovers, hauling their luggage to turn in their keys and file into the van that would take them to the little airfield on the far side of the island. The resort staff would spend the day cleaning up at a leisurely pace, putting everything back in order for the next, much smaller, wave of guests.
Quiche inhaled, Travis went to find his tools. He knew there would be work for him today, but he also knew that the insane pressure of the last few weeks was lifted, and his steps felt light and eager for the first time in a long time. His work gloves and boots had been dried, shaken out, and hung up. Travis gave a crooked smile for the thoughtfulness of his housemates.
His feet automatically took him to the largest building on the resort, the building that held the dining hall, kitchen, and conference room on the top level, the bar and mechanical rooms on the next level down, overlooking the pool below. The staff bulletin board in the conference room was where the calendar was posted, and where they left notes for each other about problems that needed fixed.
The calendar was marked “Travis: DAY OFF” and “Breck: Return the keys to rooms 7 and 12.” The dry-erase board had a note: “Fix washer four.” In new handwriting someone had added, “And dryer three.”
Knowing he didn’t have to handle it perversely made Travis want to.
There was singing coming from the kitchen, a tragic opera song in Chef’s booming bass voice. Travis smiled to remember that Magnolia would be returning any day. The resort would feel normal again.