Page 1 of Seas the Reckoning

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TAIL WAGS & TRIVIA

Pickles has his snout to the ground, snorting and sniffing. The basset hound’s ears drag through the grass. When he hauls in a particularly deep breath while examining a dandelion, he lets out a sneeze along with a puff of smoke.

Anyone could see him. What if he’s found o⁠—

Jackal’s hand closes around mine, and the thoughts about my fire-breathing dog begin to settle. A hyena shifting mate, even one as caring as Jackal, is not a cure for OCD, but he does wonders for relaxing me.

“No one is around to see, love. That’s why we took the dogs here for the day,” he reminds me, gesturing at the secluded area of beach where we’re roaming. He’s right. Late fall is far from high season, and it’s windy to boot.

It’s the first day of December. I take a deep breath. The chilled sea air braces me. Since we faced Leon Stone and his men, things have been calm, relatively speaking. I still need to break my siren curse, and we still have to track down the supernatural who gave Leon the idea of transferring magic to humans through grotesque experimentations, but I’ve had a couple months to relax, and it’s been an immense help to my nervous system.

Having a handsome hyena by my side hasn’t hurt, either.

Jackal’s holding the end of a blue leash and walking a dog that’s currently up for adoption through the Carolina Beach Humane Society. After my lackluster volunteer schedule earlier this year, while Starla and I were chasing down a kidnapper and murderer, I’m only too happy to be making up for it now.

Jackal even went with me to man the adoption table at an event this past weekend.

Hopper, the mixed-breed dog sniffing next to Pickles, is one of the holdouts, but I know a few families showed interest. I’m hopeful they’ll return for him. He’s much taller than the basset, slender and quick, with his tail curled up. I look down at the pups.

“They’re having such a good time, but we should head back soon.”

Jackal nods.

“We promised Starla we’d be at the bar for trivia night, and I don’t dare let the witch down.”

Particularly not with my best friend owning the bar. She could very well cut off our cocktail and appetizer supply if our absence tanks the trivia team. Starla has no compunctions about playing in her own bar events, and she’s gotten rather competitive with the weekly tradition.

She’s got larger prizes than normal planned for the last few trivia nights before Christmas and aims to win at least one for herself. She’s likely to do it, thanks to her choice of teammates. While neither she nor I are particularly adept at trivia, Exos is a master. The gargoyle has proven incredibly studious, learning all he can about the human world after spending most of his life in Fae, and he’s got the memory of an elephant.

The dogs give the sand a few final sniffs before we make our way to my car and head back to the humane society. When we arrive, Vivian gives me a wave from behind the front counter. The dark-haired woman manages the shelter, and she’s got a huge smile in place as we drop off Hopper. There’s a couple waiting up front, along with a boy who I’d guess to be nine or ten. They were at the event this weekend.

“The Jacksons were just finishing up their application for Hopper,” Vivian tells us.

My own smile breaks out as the dog in question begins to wag his tail furiously.

In a matter of minutes, Hopper is off with his new family. As he makes his way to their car, the boy presents him with a stuffed toy.

Jackal puts his arm around my shoulder and we walk back to my car.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I’m thinking it’s already been a very good day. And it’s only up from here.”

Just saying it aloud threatens to release a deluge of intrusive thoughts, but I keep that at bay with a few deep breaths and a maybe.

One of my many coping mechanisms. When I have a thought about something going very, truly, horribly wrong, I respond with maybe. Maybe it will work out, maybe it won’t. Maybe things will go downhill, and maybe they won’t. Living with uncertainty is tough, but it helps to accept that I can't control everything.

Although I am hoping to have some impact on tonight’s trivia outcome. Starla promised a category on sea life, and even in a town of ocean-lovers, a naiad is bound to excel.

We pull into the Sea Wench parking lot for the evening, and I turn to Pickles.

“All right. Best behavior and no flames in the front of the house. Deal?”

The basset hound yips in response.

“Good. And if you need a smoke break, you can hang out in the kitchen with Keegan,” I remind the pup.