Declan leaned in, and Geir relaxed his tentacles enough to let him whisper in his ear. “I was showing off all the marks you gave me.”
Geir grunted. That had never occurred to him, but it sounded like something Declan would do. The thought of it made his belly warm, even amidst all the fear and uncertainty of the evening. He didn’t want anyone looking at Declan. But if he was showing off the marks Geir had placed… maybe that was different.
“I’m sorry,” Declan continued in a nervous whisper. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I was really proud of them. And Ro liked them, too.”
Someone chuckled but quickly turned it into a cough. He’d have to mention shifter hearing to Declan at some point.
Geir let the new knowledge sink in. It sounded like he’d made a lot of bad assumptions. God help him if Declan had arranged to kidnap children, but until proven otherwise, Declan was his. He’d need to beg forgiveness for doubting him later, and for now the best he could do was defend him.
Fortunately, the Chief had gone from looking menacing to merely anxious.
Geir gave himself a moment to reorder his thoughts, focusing only on Declan’s taste through his skin. His sweat tasted sour, probably from fear, and Geir felt guilty all over again that he hadn’t talked to him before running away.
But that wasn’t going to help any of them now.
He drew in a deep breath. “Where were Rohahen and the children last seen?”
“Ro and May supposedly walked home through the woods, but it’s a wide area to follow and their scents around this area are confused. Declan was the last to see them. The other two were on the playground, not far from their house. They were taken in a vehicle.”
“Can we help them, Daddy?” Declan whispered. He was still trembling.
Geir hesitated before answering, digging back through layers of memories to a sensation that was so ingrained and so old that he’d almost forgotten. There was something that he had done, once.
The shifters thought of the land to the west as theirs, and by his agreement with Kahshennenhawe a few centuries ago, it was.
He thought of the land as his, though. He knew Lake Erie and the rivers and streams that fed into it. He knew how the water trickled through the Earth and the animals and plants that lived upon it.
His mental awareness of the territory spread with each passing year, whether or not he gave it conscious thought. It was a visceral sense that he had, and one that he rarely used except during major catastrophes or times of war, when he had felt it worthwhile to get involved.
He looked at Tier. “Would you be able to sense the children if they were close?”
The Chief looked at him assessingly, as if unwilling to disclose his abilities. It wasn’t anything new to him though—if anything, he was the one taking the risk. Finally, the Chief nodded once.
“Good. I can…” he searched for the word. “I can magnify that. If they aren’t too far away.”
Tier nodded. Whether that meant the prior Chiefs had told him or not, it didn’t really matter at this point. There were certain secrets Geir still wanted to keep, so the less discussion the better.
Geir reached for his connection to the land but realized that his senses were still too full of the man clutched to his chest. He whispered into Declan’s ear, wanting it to feel private even if all the shifters would hear. “I need to put you down to do this. Will you be alright?”
Declan surprised him by responding in a bright, casual tone. “If they’re done threatening me, I’ll be fine. And we have to get Ro and the kids back. Plus, I want to see you use your magic superpowers. Let’s do this!”
That drew a few chuckles from the gathered shifters, though others didn’t look quite as trusting. His brave, sweet boy. Reluctantly, he withdrew his tentacles and set him down.
Declan took a few steps back with his head held high, but it didn’t escape Geir’s notice that his hands were shaking. For all his bravado, he was probably terrified.
Geir had really fucked things up, but the only thing to do now was fix it.
He reached a hand out to Tier who hesitated and then took it. He probably could have explained, but he didn’t know what words he would use. Maybe words weren’t necessary.
He dropped his tentacles, pressing them into the dirt. The ground was dry and gritty, clinging to the slime coat on one side. He stretched out further, touching the grass, gone slightly brown and trampled. It itched.
The other tentacle lay over the gravel in his driveway. It had been imported here, quarried decades ago and delivered by truck. But now it was as much a part of the land as the hundred-year-old trees, sprouted from seeds that had fallen to the earth. Their rooted memories traveled back, century upon century pressed together and jostled close.
Even with his eyes closed, he knew where Declan was. Like iron drawing a magnet. He stretched a little farther, just tasting the rubber and canvas of his shoe. Geir had thought he needed Declan to move away, but instead, he anchored him.
Today, yesterday, or the beginning of time. Everything he touched was part of this land.
He felt the water, traveling through the grass, cell by cell, with its precious cargo of sugars and minerals. An ant crawling over one of his suckers.
And behind him, trees with birds asleep in their nests. A racoon with her babies. An acorn beginning to sprout. The lake with catfish sifting through the mud.
Everything came from the lake and went to the lake. His little lake that became Lake Erie that became the forests and highways and gas stations and cities.
Beside him, like a single star amongst the endless galaxies of the midnight sky, was Tier Ashwood. Part of Geir’s land. No more or less important than the spiders or skyscrapers.
Geir breathed in his land. He was his land. The rest was up to the Chief.
He felt some small corner of his awareness shift. Adding color and warmth. Pulling out grains of sand amidst the billions. These ones were important. Connected. Pulled together in a tangled web. Tribe. Family.
Many close. Some farther, though he had little concept of distance. Some clustered together, some scattered around in all directions.
And there. One nearby. Relief that wasn’t his own rushed through him. And then three more. The three who were sought. A warm hum of satisfaction and a wash of anger flashed through him through Tier.
Geir focused on one tiny light of his own: May. That tiny ball of fluff and enthusiasm was out there somewhere, and he needed her to be safe.
The Chief dropped his hand and Geir’s connection to the web snapped. He slowly pulled back in his senses. Cities, lakes, trees, ants. The laces of Declan’s shoe. But he could still feel those four lives, ever so faintly, highlighted against the backdrop of rocks and rivers and slow-growing trees.
He opened his eyes, and everything was hazy. Colors stretched out and shapes blurred. Ah, he was using his kraken eyes in his human form. He had forgotten about that.
He closed his eyelids, willing himself to shift back. When he opened them again, everyone was watching him.
The Chief bowed his head, just a slight nod, but for the People, one filled with meaning. “Thank you, Geir. We are in your debt. I apologize for any fear we might have caused your mate.”
Geir bowed his head also, making it a meeting among equals, though he could have made a show of power. “I honor the pact I made with Kahshennenhawe. No child should ever be taken from loving parents. And… I want to know that May is safe.”