Eye of the Tempest Read Online Free

chaos.
    Tsunami , I was called. Earthquake. Volcano. Charybdis. Chaos. Kali. Ragnarok. Apocalypse .
    [ Never meant to hurt. Just so alone… ]
    Wherever I went, Earth was shattered, or tidal waves rose from the depths. The Air grew furious and even Fire raged. As a creature of that first, misbegotten generation, I had become something too powerful.
    I did not belong anywhere, anymore.
    And so I, too, laid myself down to rest. To sleep. And as oblivion drifted over me, I set my protections…
    Only to wake, gasping. A hand, holding mine, clutched my fingers tightly and I [ Jane True! I remembered] turned to see the elated face of my father staring at me through eyes red with sleep deprivation. Tears streamed down his face and into his beard as he watched me as if afraid I’d disappear.
    “Jane?” he asked, as I wondered when the hell he’d had time to grow a beard.
    I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn’t work. Instead, much to my consternation, I made a noise that sounded a bit like the braying of a donkey.
    “Has our patient finally decided to join the land of the living?” came a cool voice from somewhere far below, just loud enough to hear. My father responded with an inarticulate shout of happiness. Nonplussed, my brain and my vision both a bit muzzy, I eventually managed to raise my head on a neck loose as a noodle. I looked around, blinking dazedly at a room lit only by the glow of a full moon shining through a skylight. Eventually, after my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I realized that I was in Anyan’s loft bedroom, and in Anyan’s bed.
    How does my dad know Anyan? I thought. Followed quickly by, Oh dear gods, Anyan , as I suddenly recalled my very last memory.
    But before I could say anything, I nearly fainted as an unglamoured goblin walked up the stairs to Anyan’s loft, setting a green-scaled, black-clawed hand on my father’s shoulder, his yolk-yellow eyes peering at me with an admittedly eggy combination of happiness and relief.
    I wasn’t surprised by the goblin—after all, they’re the healers of the supernatural world. What I was surprised by was the fact that instead of freaking out as the nearly seven-foot-tall unglamoured goblin stood behind him, my dad merely squeezed my hand again as he reached up his other hand to clutch, in a clear gesture of gratitude, at the goblin’s wickedly clawed mitt resting on his shoulder.
    “She’s awake. She’s finally awake,” my dad sobbed, as I let my alarmingly heavy head flop back onto my pillow. I also got a glimpse of Anyan’s naughty headboard and winced that my dad had seen it.
    It’s like the Wizard of Oz, only in reverse , I thought. Dorothy’s woken up to find that everything has gotten even weirder. Replete with dirty headboards .
    The goblin and my father beamed at me, and I wondered where to start.
    I think I missed quite a bit while I was out .

CHAPTER THREE

     
    My father held the water to my lips while I drank, cradling my head in his hands. The goblin had given me a quick physical, removed all my various tubes—which I was more than surprised to see—and then left to grant us some privacy. I definitely needed his scaly-green presence here (and my father’s acceptance of his presence) explained, but I had more pressing matters to which to attend. As soon as I could speak, I asked the question I’d been dreading.
    “Anyan?” I queried, my voice beseeching.
    “He’s fine,” my dad responded, smiling soothingly. “He’s been here as much as he could, but he’s also been busy with… other things.”
    Unbelievable relief spread through me, even as my forehead rumpled, knowing that “other things” could not be good. But before I could ask, my dad shook his head.
    “Don’t worry yourself, Jane. Not yet at least. You’re awake. That’s all that matters. I was so scared…”
    At that admonition, my father’s voice broke. So I nearly broke at the expression on his face, still so handsome, if a tad sad and careworn after all