‘It’s a lovely little starter lake,’ the kelpie estate agent said to me. ‘You’ve got all the amenities: good pH level, connection to local waterways, a recently modernised reedbed.’

My mothers glanced at the nearby group of humans running around the shore in brightly coloured leggings, then at the single algae-encrusted crisp packet floating nearby, and then at each other. Nimue managed to keep her expression politely neutral. Nessie tried, to her credit, but had never been as good at controlling her anima; a tiny raincloud formed over the surface of the lake.

‘Lovely neighbourhood,’ the kelpie added, ignoring my very famous lake spirit mothers with impressive fortitude. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘I’ll take it,’ I said.

Both my mothers inhaled sharply. ‘Viv, dear,’ Nimue said. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘It’s a lake,’ I said. ‘That’s good enough for me.’

‘Look, darling, we can find you a nice stream in the Wild,’ Nimue said. ‘Wouldn’t it be nicer with fewer nasty mortals around to ruin the ambiance? Or have you thought about moving abroad? Lakes are much cheaper in the Baltics.’

‘I don’t want a stream and I don’t want to move abroad.’

‘Darling, at your current anima level—’

‘We all know how bad anima inflation’s gotten over the past few centuries,’ the kelpie said, sympathetically. His dripping wet haunches quivered in anticipation of a sale.

I took out my pocket knife and sliced my palm; bright blue blood welled into the cut. I leaned down over the water and placed my hand under the surface. ‘By mine blood and by mine magic and by mine lasting intent I do claim these waters, from this day until my dying day. So mote it be.’

The kelpie flashed me a grin full of pointed teeth while my mothers looked on grimly. I hope you know what you’re getting into, their expressions said.

*

It’s twenty years later and I don’t regret a thing.

Given how little I paid for the lake, it’s turning out to be a ridiculous return on anima investment. Somehow, the humans running and walking around the lake are actually increasing the rate of generation rather than reducing it. Perhaps it’s because they built it. Yes, a human occasionally throws in a plastic bottle or plays their music too loudly, and I’m required to intervene, but something in the magic seems to recognise the debt.

And it isn’t like the Wild is totally absent. There have been carp, ducks and herons. Even otters from time to time. A decade or two more to work on it, and I’m sure even my mothers will come around. Or maybe not. They wouldn’t be the first traditionalist spirits to bury their heads in the sand and refuse to admit the world has changed.

That’s fine with me, because I hear the other Tear Drop Lakes are still up for grabs. After all – why settle for being the guardian of one lake when there are three other nice ones nearby?