"Oh, puh-lease," Leo groans. "These were people in the midst of a mini-tsunami in the middle of the night. In all likelihood, awakened from a sound sleep and terrified out of their minds. Arianrhod knows what hallucinations they were having. They probably broke the skylight themselves to escape to the roof and were swept off by the water."
"Not that place. The water level didn't reach that high. Something went in after them." Silas sighs heavily. "In any case, there's no rescue. We don't need supplies. We don't need warriors—at least not that we can tell. What we really need are answers."
I feel the weight of Ian's gaze as it falls on me. "I think we have some of those. And you will need warriors. A very specific kind."
Silas' brows draw together. "What do you mean? What do you know?"
Ian glances my direction, and at my invitation, relays what little we know from the discussion over breakfast this morning. "Sandy believes these attacks are driven by an underwater species called Rényú. Though they're long-lived, they've been driven to the point of extinction, and subsequently are aggressive and territorial."
"But we're not invading their space," Silas interrupts. "In fact, I've had wolves crack down on the human traffic in and around the shoals because there was a rash of drownings in recent years."
"Drownings?" Ian seeks to confirm. "Or disappearances?"
"Well, our assumption was drownings and that the bodies were lost to the sea. It is a dangerous area and posted as such." In the background, an enormous truck rolls by, and Silas' reply is nearly inaudible over the noise. "Are you telling me that they didn't drown?"
"We don't believe that territory is the driver for the attacks," Sean says grimly. "Nor is outright war. At least not for the moment."
Silas' golden eyes, so like Sean's, go wide, easily visible through the camera on his phone. "What do you mean 'for the moment'? You mean that you think they're planning an assault here?"
Ian inhales deeply, then replies solemnly, "It seems like a possibility. If Sandy is correct, then these Rényú have been raiding the Vista del Océano community off Demons Tangle."
"Raiding for what?"
"Humans—and potentially werewolves. Males in particular. That's something we'd like to confirm with you." Ian glances at his mate and taking his cue, Darby leans forward to add what she knows of the genetics.
"From Sandy, we know the Rényú were few in number, but that there's a subpopulation among them that's potentially much larger called, Rényú zázhǒng. These are a hybrid species—an amphibious crossbreed—bred by mating terrestrial males to their females."
Silas rubs a hand over his face in grim exasperation. It's a gesture I've seen many times from Sean seated at my side, which must be a family mannerism. He utters a soft but aggressive expletive, then says, "Well, I probably would have given you that was true up until this point. The eighty-four missing are mixed—men and women. If that's a change in tactic, then what does it mean?"
I blanche, clutching at my throat in horror. It's not until Sean's arm wraps my shoulders protectively that I realize all eyes at this teleconference are on me.
With a reluctant sigh, I steady myself. "The Rényú zázhǒng resemble humans enough that they could potentially be living among the population of Ciudad d'Arena, where the Rényú couldn't. But if what Darby suspects is true—that a human male- Rényú female pairing was previously desirable for limiting gigantic growth, then by taking human females too, it would seem they're not so troubled anymore."
"Gigantic growth!?" Silas sputters. "Of what?"
"I—I couldn't say for sure what a female human- Rényú male pairing would beget," I admit, feeling foolish that I'm talking about my own element and I know so little about it and what lives within it. "The Rényú are disturbing-looking if you realize that's what they are. In the water, they're easy to mistake for something else, but once you see them, you can't unsee them."
Silas' eyes narrow and he peers at me with a growing alarm on his face. "'Disturbing-looking' how?"
"To me, the Rényú look a great deal like sea stars—various colors, various textures, multi-limbed—but they have humanoid features. One's limbs might resemble hands, or they might have a humanoid body or face. But they still move like sea stars, or swim like feather stars," I explain. "But a Rényú zázhǒng without the normal human limiting factors—well, I guess it could be as varied in appearance as sea stars are. Except potentially enormous."
"'Enormous'," he repeats softly, more to himself than to anyone on the video conference with him, as he focuses without seeing on a spot on the ground. "Hang on."
Muting himself, Silas rises and begins to walk through the devastated neighborhood as we watch with equal parts horror and compassion. While he does, Ian begins a inaudible conversation with Lili, then works his way around the table towards Sean and me, talking to each person in turn. He pauses when Silas stops.
Unmuting his phone, he holds it at arms' length, pointing to a damaged building behind him. "You said 'enormous'. Could one of these things be big enough to do that?"
In the conference room in Candlewood, jaws drop and the room echoes with a disjointed string of obscenities from various members. The building Silas is referring to is unremarkable, one of the few still standing close to the shore. Along the side he's referring to, there's a two- to three-foot-wide gash that cuts completely through the external façade, the interior drywall and finishing, and directly through an internal supporting wall.
For a long moment, the single sound I can hear is the thunderous rush of blood past my ears as my heart pounds painfully in my chest.
Then Jack blurts, "The hell is that!? A tail whip? Now we're taking on Nessie!?"
Calmly, Silas repeats his question. "Could one of these gigantic Rényú zázhǒng do this?"
When I turn to Darby, I find her tip-tilted golden-green eyes already upon me and we exchange a meaningful glance. My almost imperceptible nod to her is returned, confirming my fears. I look back at the conference room screen and Silas with the damaged house in the background. "Yes."
"Sweet Arianrhod," he mutters, rubbing his furrowed brow with his fingers. "Ian, I'd appreciate it tremendously if you'd dust off Strategos inside your head and help me do some brainstorming."
"We'll get packed up immediately," Ian replies resolutely. "We'll let you know as soon as we reach the airport and are headed your direction."