I bite my tongue, stifling my impatience. How much can I technically complain given this is my first leadership meeting? Beside me, Anna looks down at her hands, yawning subtly.
"Is he always like this?" I nod my head towards Ian, methodically going over a 'few' pieces of Candlewood business before the scheduled time for our call to Silas in Desert pack. More than once as he changes the topic, either Jack or Leo emit blatantly vulgar groans, slumping dramatically in their chairs or planting their foreheads on the conference table before them. Given how bored I am, I suspect that there's likely a lot more, merely that the rest of us are better at suppressing them.
"I don't attend many of these," Anna whispers back, "but what I understand from Lili is that he's become a lot more particular since we were attacked on home soil and after the triplet terrorists were born. With her usual irreverence, Lili refers to this as 'more god-awful, mind-numbingly tedious than the presidential state of the union address'."
"I second that motion. I had no idea that Ian—of all people—could be so entirely anally retentive about everything."
Anna giggles under her breath. "He may delegate more now, but he keeps as close of an eye on things in Candlewood as he does on his kids."
For the latter, I suspect we're all grateful. Of the terrorist trio, Liam and Lara in particular have the appalling habit of getting themselves into real trouble, leading the more docile Losa with them any time they can. If Ian wants to keep his children under tight watch, no one in Candlewood is going to complain.
Letting my mind wander, I focus on Jack sitting directly across the conference room table from me. I stifle my laughter at the undisguised expression of exasperated boredom he wears, and the blatant egging he does of his older brother by checking his watch every couple minutes. Still, there's a sense of community in this room, a camaraderie, and a seamless flow to the way they mold their individual functions to each other. Like a well-oiled machine.
It makes me feel utterly useless.
Checking the time, Ian closes the meeting hastily. He stands aside talking inaudibly to Darby while Sean sets up the video conference and I fume privately at myself. Two and a half years ago, Sean had summoned me on behalf of my aged mother. I'd returned from a life of solitude in the wintry, high-altitude lakes and rivers of the Candlewood territory, completely oblivious to the state of affairs and landed myself smack in the middle of a war I didn't understand.
Sure, it's given me a sister. And a brother. And even my father. But my lack of attention had cost me my mother, regardless of whether or not it had made a huge difference in how easily the vampires' defeat had been accomplished. With the video conference initiated, Sean returns to his seat beside me and immediately gets swept into a conversation with Jack about some security issue.
And what have I done since then?
I've gone from a loner to a warrior to a piece of arm candy decorating my handsome triumvir mate's arm and warming his bed. Every other person in this room makes regular, significant contributions to the Candlewood legacy. Except me. Every other person in this room brings value and stature to Candlewood and its leadership. Everyone else has a job—
My inner critic is abruptly and brutally silenced as Silas joins the video conference from Ciudad d'Arena. The conference room goes silent as we all take in the devastation visible in the background behind Sean's brother.
In the cold light of day, its abundantly clear that the entire affected neighborhood is no longer livable. What few homes remain standing show signs of water levels that reached two stories, easily five to six meters above the ground. Debris of all sorts—both indoor and outdoor furniture, sodden clothes, hunks of drywall and shingles, splintered wood and broken shutters, even cars—is piled deep against the buildings still standing and scattered in a huge debris field where they aren't. Rescue workers and first responders slosh through the soaked wreckage, searching for victims and survivors with expressions of consuming despair and utter exhaustion.
"Sweet Arianrhod," Sean gasps beside me, then reaches for my hand.
"Silas," Ian addresses him, "I'd hoped to be making this call and offering my condolences and my pack's assistance, but those words seem trite given what I see. Why didn't you call last night? We could've been there with more help by now."
Silas runs a hand over his worn-out face and the background shifts as he takes a seat on some of the rubble laying around. "It wouldn't have done any good, Ian, much as I appreciate that sentiment. I told Sean when I talked to him last night that this was like similar events that we've had in this region off the Demons Tangle. Obviously, it's not. This was much worse."
"We'll activate emergency protocols here and start gathering—."
"There's no point, Ian," Silas interrupts. To someone out of sight of his cellphone's camera, he lifts his chin in acknowledgement. "This was worse. I've got the best noses available in Desert out here. The death toll is still at three. We've found two more injured—both young children. The rest of the Vista del Océano community—if our estimates are right, a total of eighty-four people—are missing. And not taken by the water."
A ten-alarm frenzy starts up in my head and a heavy knot of dread twists up my gut and wrenches it mercilessly. I clutch at Sean's hand around mine.
"What do you mean, 'not taken by the water'?" Jack demands, his sky-blue eyes keen. "What else would have taken them? Or are you saying they fled?"
Silas shakes his head, then gestures around him beyond what we can see with his chin. "They didn't flee. Vehicles are still in the garages. The houses still standing show signs of struggle—doors torn from the hinges or broken in, like with an axe. In one that we found entirely empty, the occupants had barricaded themselves in a windowless upstairs bathroom. The skylight was forced in from the roof to get to them. Except not before someone was able to write on the mirror in lipstick the single word: taniwha."
"Is that supposed to be helpful?" Leo asks with a bored expression.
"Yes," Darby replies immediately, her golden-green eyes going wide, "it is. It's Māori. And it means 'sea creature' or 'sea monster'."