the swells, every cell in her body straining to reach the small rock in the middle of the water.
The tiny magical rock island where her mother stood, arms in the air, reveling in the storm building over her head. Playing with the lines of water and air, dancing in the heart of power unleashed.
And blind to the killing wave barreling in behind her.
Sierra raced the wave. She pleaded and begged and offered the wave her life in trade.
And she lost. She always lost.
Oh, Momma. I’m so sorry.
Chapter 5
Sierra stared out the window, exhausted and numb, as the train chugged through the outlying areas of San Francisco. It had been a really long day of traveling after a short and crappy night’s sleep. She’d woken up hiding under the bed again, and like always, she couldn’t remember why—just a dragging tiredness, and the sense she’d been crying.
She hated waking up under the bed. And she’d learned to do it quietly, so her creep of a younger foster brother didn’t tease her for being a weenie crybaby who missed her momma.
Then she’d had to say good-bye to her foster parents and pretend it mattered. Saying good-bye to her favorite librarian had been harder. Her placement family had been decent, but they’d been taking in kids for long enough to avoid getting too attached. Not that she’d been looking for attachments. It had been a place to sleep and almost enough to eat.
Her caseworker had driven her to the bus station, proud of her graduate. In the files, Sierra knew she was a success story. Finished high school, stayed out of trouble, rode off to a rosy future employed and not yet pregnant.
The bar for success was set pretty low.
She’d waited for this day for six years. It didn’t feel like she’d always thought it would. She’d imagined it would be like riding a funnel—full of joy and speed and freedom. Instead, she was tired, cranky, and missing Momma.
Missing her beach a little, too. She wouldn’t miss much from Oregon—but the beach had kept her sane.
Maybe it was the train ride. She and Momma had ridden a lot of trains together, always looking out the window in excitement as they arrived at a new place, a new adventure.
Sierra looked out the window and tried to get a sense of her new home. Lots of fog—it reminded her of Momma’s ghost stories of Londinium and the friendly beings who lived in the fog and helped you find your way. These days, when Sierra wandered on a foggy beach, she hoped Momma was there, reaching out to touch her face or tickle her toes. Or maybe one of the ghosts of Londinium, traveled across the sea to the wilds of the New World. There had been lots of stories of the New World on the trains as well.
In another time, Momma would have been one of those storytellers that sat by the fire at night, telling long tales of lifetimes past. Or maybe a bard—she’d been a pretty good singer, too.
And then the next morning, she would have strapped on her sword and rucksack and gone off on another big adventure. Momma could never sit still for very long.
Sierra remembered a set of shiny silver swords she’d gotten for her eighth birthday. She and Momma had strapped them on and danced around on a castle drawbridge in Ireland, laughing as all the tourists took their pictures.
She’d give anything to have a couple of those pictures now.
The fog was clearing a bit as they came into the downtown train station. People started shuffling around, getting their belongings together. A small boy dashed down the aisle, clearly ready to be off the train. He tripped over the corner of someone’s bag, and Sierra caught him just before his nose crashed into the arm of her seat.
“Thanks!” he said. “My name’s Joey, and I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but if you catched me, maybe you’re not a stranger.”
Sierra had always thought that was a really dumb rule. How boring would life be if you never talked to anyone new? She remembered many happy train rides talking to her fellow passengers. “Have you ever been to San Francisco before?”
Joey shook his head, eyes gleaming. “Nope. Mommy says we’re gonna go see a big bridge and ride a streetcar and everything!”
She grinned. Riding the streetcar had always been one of her favorites too. “If you stick your head out just a little bit, you’ll be able to feel