Mop Up

Something was tapping in the distance, like large bullets of rain falling against glass. The low, resonating clang slowly pulled me from my sleep.

“I hate that bird,” Oceanna’s voice drifted from across the room.

“What bird?” I asked, my mind still hazy with sleep.

“That bird.”

I cracked an eye open. A large raven sat outside the window, sporadically tapping the glass with his beak. I sat up, the sudden movement making my head sway. Oceanna glared at the bird from her bed, but made no attempt to let him in. Even as I staggered off the couch and strolled for the window, Soot continued to beat against the glass, relentless in his pursuit to come inside.

Oceanna threw off her covers and swung her feet to the floor. “If you let that thing in again, I swear-”

She dove right back under the blankets when I unlatched the window. Soot pushed in, doing a half circle around the room before he realised it wasn’t meant for his large wings. He landed on the kitchen table, scratching at the surface as he skidded to a halt, then stared at me sideways with one yellow, beady eye.

I glared right back. One month. That’s how long I had been waiting for an answer. I stalked toward him, gaze intent on the message on his foot. He cawed a complaint but didn’t peck me when I grabbed him. He knew he wouldn’t get fed if he did.

Oceanna emerged from her refuge, sea-green eyes shifting between me and Soot. I unfastened the small metal cylinder and slid out the parchment. Oceanna’s soft footsteps approached, halting when Soot let out a loud screech. He was suspicious of anyone whose mind he couldn’t read. I shushed him, then carefully unrolled the paper.

I stifled a frown when I read the message.

Getting Jaxon Blau arrested had not been the best thing to do. It was, in fact, the worst thing to do, but I didn’t expect to have to deal with the consequences. After all, I’d done my job and gotten him to stop his misdealing. Even if it hadn’t happened as initially planned. But with him gone, his network and smuggling operation were up in the air.

Oceanna peeked over my shoulder, trying to look at the paper while keeping me between her and the bird. “What does it say?”

I rolled the message back into the small tube. “I need to follow up on something.”

Oceanna’s face scrunched up into a scowl. “You promised,” she hissed, arms folding over her chest. “No more jobs. You’re supposed to be helping me—”

I silenced her with a stare. I may have promised to help her, but I didn’t work for her. Besides, Oceanna’s request was not the easiest to fulfil even without her short temper sabotaging us both, and she knew it.

“How long?” she demanded.

I smoothed Soot’s feathers. The bird cawed a demand to be fed. “As long as it takes.”

She stalked away, threw on her fatigues and was out the door faster than a morning drill call. The loud crash made Soot shoot up in the air again, half hopping, half gliding across the room.

One month ago I had written up my report, detailing everything that had happened in Radegast. My warning, Blau’s response, the escalation, and eventual breakdown. He was not fit to lead and his presence did more harm than good. I’d listed all known parties and businesses that would be affected by his removal, too. And of course, I’d kept a few facts out: no, I hadn’t used my abilities; I wasn’t involved in the labour dispute, which was technically true; and in no way had I put myself in a compromising and possibly incriminating position. After the last few disasters I’d stumbled into, I expected anything from critique to threats of being sent away to the farthest corners of the continent.

Instead, I got a single sentence:

Deal with it.

I toyed with the little paper, rolling it, and unrolling it.

Cleanup was not my speciality. Well, not the kind of cleanup she would like. That was her talent and I’d hoped she would take care of it.

The message was written in the familiar neat writing — big curvy letters in the middle of the page, thicker than usual. And the period looked like it had almost punched through the paper. Deal with it.

Like I had time to travel the province, go through the list and investigate which businesses deserved to sink and which had to be preserved. I turned the note round, folded it, unfolded it, turned it again, hoping that miraculously an “I’ll” would appear on the page. But no, it still read the same: Deal with it.

I cursed, drawing Soot’s attention. He stared at me across the table for a moment and then continued pecking at his bowl of canned fruit.

Oceanna was growing impatient, getting into all sorts of trouble while I was busy with nonsense. Last time I was supposed to be gone for a month. The mission had taken a year. I still wasn’t done hearing about it. At least she hadn’t gotten herself suspended by yelling or punching a superior officer. We both knew I wouldn’t bail her out a third time. Even if there was any viable place left to relocate her to.

I picked up the pen, but I had doused it in too much ink because the first sheet of semi-transparent paper turned blue.

I crumpled the note and reached for another.

Not my problem.

Scratch.

I don’t have time for—

Scratch.

You should have thought of that before—

Scratch again.

Last time I checked, guild business was no longer my concern.

Scratch. Double scratch. Triple scratch. The paper tore.

No, there was no getting out of this. I had conscripted Zee to help me with the Nereid problem, leaving myself as the only agent open for jobs in the south. As pressing as this mission was, Oceanna would have to wait.

I dipped the pen in ink again.

If I have to deal with smugglers,

can I at least get my knives back?

It would make things easier—

Scratch. Tear. Crumple.

I dug fingers into my hair. Why did this have to be so difficult? Back in the days, any problem could be solved with the blade. You would go in, do the job, you would get out, no more problems. But that was no longer the case. It hadn’t been for a long time. And this was not my territory, so if I wanted to stay I would have to play by her rules.

Exhaling my air into a growl, I picked up the pen a third time.

I’m on it.

Even as I wrote it, I knew I couldn’t afford another disaster. That one more ‘incident’ and I was ‘out’. That’s what she’d said. Of course, she’s said that before Oasis as well, but even she had to agree that Oasis was not my fault.

Oceanna returned a while after I’d sent Soot away. She brought in the thick scent of cold and salt with her, her long blond hair drenched dark with sea water and her eyes still blazing. They swept over me before she disappeared behind the bathroom door, slamming the door hard enough to make dust drift down from the ceiling.

I stared out of her high-rise apartment window. The small houses in the distance still wrapped up in darkness wouldn’t stay so for long. A thin line of light formed on the horizon, framing the dark cliffs of the bay and spotting the islands among the waves. Another day, another job. With the new light, the trains would start going again and I wanted to get on with things as soon as possible.

“You know better than to swim at night, alone,” I said when Oceanna came out again. The currents got erratic and her control of water was not good enough to save her if she got caught in one.

She snorted, heading around the table and setting up her makeup products to start the day. Even if she refused to admit it, it was a problem. She’d been too far from the sea for too long and her water abilities reflected it. But I let it drop because it never ended well. Some people just didn’t want to accept the truth.

The sun was a blazing globe above the waterline when Oceanna approached me again, pausing for a moment to look at the sunrise. Her wild hair was pulled back in a neat braid so that you couldn’t even tell it was naturally frizzy, but it was the dark green woollen skirt-suit and the stylish brown heels that made the look come together. With her makeup and well-ironed uniform she looked like a whole new person — no longer the ruffian I knew her to be, but a respectable career woman.

Despite her complaints, setting her up in a desk job had been the right thing to do. Especially the position of clerk in the office of the captain of the Nereid squad who was right under the rear admiral. It kept her close enough to action to be relevant, but far enough from the field to avoid any further… incidents.

The decision hadn’t come out of nowhere. A long time ago, before Oasis had gone to hell, and before she had gotten herself jailed on murder charges, she had been a filing clerk. Her weak water abilities left her little else to do in a military-governed, dry desert town. She’d slipped back into that skin in less than a year. And it suited her.

“When are you leaving?” she asked after a moment.

“As soon as possible.” I kept my eyes on her reflection in the glass.

She frowned, the static of her energy becoming agitated. Displeasure tinged with fear. Sighing, I turned to her, taking a moment to admire how well she had taken care of every detail — from the perfectly shaped tan lipstick down to her polished nails. Even with her short temper she was far more professional than any of the dimwits they brought in these days.

“What?” she demanded in the familiar rough voice.

“It looks good on you,” I replied, nodding at her uniform.

She blinked, probably not expecting that answer. Her frown smoothed over into polite restraint. “Thanks.”

I turned back to the window. No, she wasn’t a lost cause, but it would help if she opened up and told me what she wanted instead of quietly simmering behind her frowns.

“I’ve got test drills soon,” she said vaguely. But it was as close as she would get.

I reached out my hand and she gingerly took it.

Energy was a finicky thing. It was everywhere, and it connected everything. Yet it could be slippery and elusive to most. Some were better at pulling it from their environment and using it immediately. Others had to slowly siphon, transform, and store it over time. Regardless of the source, elementals used it to influence their surroundings, and mentalists fine-tuned it to affect or read the people around them. But it didn’t matter what affinities someone had or how well they could control their powers if they couldn’t maintain a pool of their own. The weak nature of Oceanna’s elemental traits didn’t come from her inability to control water. It was rather due to a very low, very slowly regenerating pool. She could expand it with time, but with her late start it would take years.

I didn’t have that problem. If anything, I had an excess that I couldn’t use up in most normal situations. Reading and manipulating energy itself came naturally for me. I could tune my own energy to match Oceanna’s and channel over in minutes what she would take weeks to accumulate naturally.

Oceanna withdrew her hand, rubbing off the numbness that she always complained the transfer gave her. It wasn’t the transfer, it was her body that wasn’t used to holding that much. Used sparingly it could last her a few weeks. But it wasn’t power that she truly wanted, it was reassurance.

“How am I supposed to know if something happens? Or call for you if I need you?” she asked.

I whistled and a large shadow swooped down from the rooftop. Moonlight’s pale feathers glinted in the dawn’s light as he circled around, looking for a place to land. Since I didn’t have my glove on, he settled on the ledge and eyed me expectantly. I climbed off the sill and cracked the window open. The large owl let out a series of hoots and screeches, mostly questioning why I had summoned him without treats or purpose.

I didn’t like using Moon here. His distinct white-grey feathering made him stand out in the south, and by the seaside it screamed ‘messenger bird’. But he was the only one who wouldn’t bite Oceanna or try to claw her eyes out if she crossed him. Moon was also very self-sufficient and didn’t require treats and bribes to behave.

I nodded at the bird. “Let him loose if you need anything. Leave out treats once or twice a week. He likes lean meat. Raw, not canned.”

She eyed him suspiciously, lips pulling into a familiar frown.

“He’ll know how to find me,” I clarified. “And he’ll know if something is wrong.”

Her suspicion didn’t ease, eyes shifting between me and the bird. I smoothed his feathers to calm him and mentally conveyed the command to keep an eye on Oceanna. Moonlight squeaked his accord, but nibbled at my fingers to show his hesitation. I understood his concern. Oceanna radiated discontent so strong it would make even the least sensitive mentalist twitchy.

“He’s not going to be happy if you keep hating on him,” I scolded.

Moonlight was a little empathic, and he got touchy when he felt unappreciated.

She uncrossed her arms. “He stays out of my way, I try not to think about it too hard.”

Dismissing him with a wave, I latched the window closed.