My sister's peridot eyes fill with concern and her fine brows draw together. "Not much I'm afraid. There are a few references in my library that speak of an underwater race of humanoids, but I've never encountered one. If I recall correctly, it's a people with unnaturally long lifespans—like Weres—and unfortunately, a rather acrimonious scorn for humanity in particular, and surface-dwelling species in general."
I can't help but sigh. It's not the help I'd hoped for from my ancient and sage sister. Still, something is better than nothing. "Is there anything else you remember that can help us?"
My question draws every eye at the table to me, as I knew it would. But I had to ask.
"You know what they are," Darby says softly, reading me as easily as she does the ancient, multi-lingual texts she's collected over the course of her nearly four and a half millennia of life.
With a heavy sigh, I let my eyes drop and focus on an imaginary stain on the table before me, then nod. "The simplest name I've heard for them is Rényú—from Chinese sailors and shipmakers."
A sticky silence falls over the table.
"Dammit, Sandy," Sean whispers. "Why didn't you tell me this last night?"
I glance at my mate, easily reading both the fear and the fierce protectiveness in his gaze. "Because of that." I nod at his expression. "You wouldn't have let me help. But they will." I look across the table at the alpha pair we're both subject to as members of Candlewood pack.
"I'm not committed to that as of yet," Ian denies. "Especially not where a talisman-carrying Fae is concerned."
Darby's brows arch, not in surprise but in fury, then she directs her gaze towards her mate. "You are a talisman-carrying Fae, Ian," she snaps sharply and overhead, the lights flicker and a loud clap of thunder rolls as the elements reflect her abrupt mood swing. "Don't think for one moment that I believe you won't put yourself directly into the middle of that risk, regardless of how foolish or perilous it would be. As such, let me kindly advise you, there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop Sandy or I, should we decide to go."
Another awkward silence, this one more tense than the last, spreads over the table. Darby and Ian lock horns in a few-second long battle of their equally ferocious wills, silently raged entirely with their eyes. Eventually, Ian drops her gaze.
"I'd like to point out that that declaration wasn't addressed in a way that's particularly 'kind'," he retorts with a heavy sigh.
A slow, smug smile pulls my sister's plump lips. "I'm glad you noticed. What else do you know?" she demands of me.
"There are two populations. The first, as you said, is a water-confined species," I supply, shuddering at their memory. "Disturbingly strange-looking. Like sea stars but with humanoid features and sometimes even a humanoid body. These are relatively few in number, though they do seem to have unnaturally long lives. The other larger population is a hybrid-species, bred by mating terrestrial males with Rényú females to yield an amphibious crossbreed that the Chinese call Rényú zázhǒng. These more closely resemble land-dwelling species, some even to the point of passing for human."
"Wait—," Jack interjects, "why only their females with terrestrial males?"
"I don't know."
"That, I can answer," Darby replies. "Because the limiting genetic factor on hybrid growth for the underwater Rényú must be carried by their females as the limiting genetic growth factor is carried by terrestrial males. I suspect it's also that male Rényú zázhǒng are azoospermic in accordance with Haldane's rule. It may even be that they don't live to reproductive maturity."
Jack squeezes his sky blue eyes shut and shakes his head as if to clear it. "I heard 'hybrid growth' and 'azoospermic'. And I think those must be critical, though that last one gives me the willys. Honestly, Darby, can't you dumb it down for the rest of us?"
She fixes him with a bland stare and sighs heavily. "Fine. Hybrid growth is generally gigantism, though in some species, such as regenerating sea stars, it might be more like unlimited tissue regeneration."
"Oh, great," Jack drawls sardonically. "This just gets better and better the longer I listen."
Both Lili and Anna shush him immediately.
"So these Rényú want to pass for human." Catching on more rapidly than the rest of us, Lili looks to Darby for confirmation and gets it in the form of a wishy-washy nod and shrug. "And by azoospermic, you mean that the male Rényú zázhǒng are incapable of reproducing?" Lili asks, clarifying the last of the question.
"Without examining one, I couldn't say for certain," Darby replies. "That is my suspicion based on other species though."
"You're not examining one," her mate says flatly, "unless it's completely and undeniably dead." Taking the reins of the discussion again, Ian glances at Sean. "How much of that can you confirm?"
Sean shakes his golden head. "Almost nothing. Historically, these attacks were infrequent—occurring once or twice in a century at most. As Ciudad d'Arena's population has grown and spread to the shores, they've become more common, but survivors who talk about sea monsters are generally regarded as suffering from the trauma of the otherwise natural-looking event—."
"You mean they're considered crazy," Jack states flatly.
"More or less." Sean shrugs. "It's compounded by the fact that we've never recovered the body of one of these Rényú in all the time that the MacOmbs have been in control of Desert territory. I'm certain we can confirm from the records whether or not the unrecovered missing were males or females."
Ian scrapes the backs of his giant fingers against the scruffy grain along his chiseled jaw, then crosses his arms over his chest in typical Ian fashion. "Sandy said there were more of these hybrids than of the Rényú, and our assumption is that they're predominantly, if not entirely, female. If they're potentially able to pass for human, can we assume they've been doing this—kidnapping human males—for much longer than Desert pack has on record?"
"Oh yeah," Lili replies confidently. "This smacks of mermaid legends from all over the world. What else is in your head, Big Black Wolf?"
"That's what it sounds like to me too," Ian replies immediately. Then adds the chilling thought. "It also sounds like a potential invasion plan."
The entire table erupts into an uproar of conflicting voices. Everyone's except Ian's and mine. He roots me to my chair with his deep blue eyes and the yellow sunburst around his pupils pulses as his wolf engages too.
Though I'm not wolf, my blood bond to the Candlewood pack allows me to communicate through the link that all wolves and dogs share.
"Alright already," Ian booms over the ruckus at the table. "Get some breakfast, then we'll need to get over to the conference room in the leadership office building. Tell Silas we'll video conference with him shortly," he directs Sean.