Laurell Hamilton - Never After

I kicked away from him, propelling myself through the water. While I was a good swimmer, though much better in seal form, once he’d managed to shift over, I’d be no match for him.

Finfolk were strong, ungodly so, and their powerful tails acted akin to a propeller on a motorboat. They couldn’t go as fast as a boat, but they could move and dart through the sea with barely a blink.

I tried not to look back as I forced my way toward the surface, chilled to the bone by the icy water. I could breathe, thanks to the waterweed sponge. But that didn’t mean it would help me survive the depths unless I miraculously found my seal coat, or unless the Finfolk water witches gave me the protection they usually offered their victims. Toys were no fun if they died early.

Whatever the case, I expected Terrance had something planned, which meant there were probably other Finfolk in the area. Not good for the Pod, and not good for human swimmers. Too many accidental drownings occurred due to their interference.

The water boiled as Terrance thrashed, the currents pressing against me as I broke the surface and screamed for help. Waterweed didn’t prevent an air-breather from breathing above water, the one saving grace for me right now.

But as soon as I’d shouted, a splash beside me told me I was in trouble. Terrance popped up next to me, transformed and feral, like some primal cross between fish and man. His skin was pale silver like that of a trout’s, and a scaled tail joined what had been his legs. He had genitals, though, and all his other features remained intact except his hair was darker and his eyes were luminous. Gills slatted the side of his neck and I screamed as he reached for my wrist.

“Come on, baby,” he said.

“Leave her alone!” Menolly’s voice echoed from above and I gazed up to see Delilah, frantically flashing a light to find me. Oh hell—I knew Delilah could swim, but she was terrified of water. And Menolly would sink like a stone—vampires couldn’t float.

And then, I saw Smoky, teetering on the edge of the railing with Camille by his side. As they leapt over the edge, Terrance made another grab for me and this time wrapped his arm around my waist. With a sudden rush, he yanked me below the surface and we were off, into the depths.

From somewhere behind us, I could feel the splash as Camille and Smoky landed in the water. But would they be able to keep up with Terrance? This was his world. And without my seal suit, I was as alien to it as were they. I scrambled to think of any advantage I had; then it occurred to me that I knew the inlet better than Terrance. I’d lived here for several decades and he’d just arrived. If I could get away from him long enough, I could use that knowledge to hide.

We wove through the dark water, silent and swift, Terrance holding me against him with one arm while steering with the other. His tail acted like a rudder, shifting our direction, sending us deeper and deeper with its powerful motion. The cold began to seep into my bones, and I felt myself going numb. It wouldn’t be long before I passed out.

The water was like a black veil, everything that was familiar to me, everything that I associated with riding the waves gone, stripped away by my human form. I could feel my baby stirring, and wondered if she could feel the arms of the Ocean Mother embracing us. She would be a selkie, born in the ocean, and she would return to it time and again. She would revere it and worship it and love it, but only if I managed to survive.

Terrance suddenly halted and I vaguely saw another shape near us. Another of the Finfolk. The woman reached out and stroked my hair, then raked her nails down the side of my face, not enough to make me bleed but enough to hurt. As she did so, I could feel an energy surrounding me and then—within seconds—the numbing chill fell away and I was warm and comfortable. She was a sea witch, then, and dangerous. I let out a faint shudder and Terrance pulled me closer and started off again.

He let out a series of chirps and clucks. I knew enough of his language to recognize the meaning. Apparently we were heading toward open water, and he said something to his companion about a boat. So that was how they were stealing me away. Via boat. At least I wouldn’t be riding the waves across the ocean. In human form, I wouldn’t survive it.

We glided through the glassy depths, turning slightly as Terrance’s silent, powerful fin steered us northward. I tried to remember my geography. Were there locks? Were there places where we’d be forced to get out of the water and transform?

Finfolk possessed exceptional strength and Terrance would be able to swim for a long time before needing to rest. My bet was that we wouldn’t stop until we reached Whidbey Island, which would be the perfect place for him to have a boat waiting if he wanted to sail out through the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

But could he really mean to cross the Pacific? If so, he’d better have one hell of a boat.

I tried to work out how far we’d come, but my sense of timing was off. Time shifted in the water—as if the clock slowed to a crawl.

And then I glanced up. The shadow of something low flying and big was skimming along the surface. What the hell? Before I could blink, there was a huge displacement of water as a large white form dove deep, coming up to grab Terrance and me in one gigantic claw. As we were swept up out of the water, I gasped. A dragon. Smoky! And astride his back, thoroughly soaked and clinging to him for dear life, sat Camille, looking dazed and cold in her dripping chiffon and leather.

Terrance began to flail and Smoky eased open his claws long enough for the Meré to slip through and fall hard into the water. I held tight to the talons gripping me by the waist, praying that my baby was all right.

With wings steadily gliding on the chill breeze, we were over land within minutes, back over the park from where Terrance had kidnapped me. As we landed, Delilah and Menolly ran over to us, pulling Camille off Smoky’s back and wrapping her in a blanket, and wrapping me in another. I stared at them, horrified, trying to comprehend everything that had happened.

“She’s in shock,” Delilah said, and her voice seemed to be coming from a long, long way away, from down a long, dark tunnel.

“You’re right. We need to get her to the FH-CSI and have her checked out.” Menolly gazed at me, her eyes burning bright and brilliant, red as fire, red as blood. She leaned forward and I couldn’t look away.

“Sleep,” she whispered.

And I did.

I woke to the smell of tea and toast, and pushed myself up on my elbows. I was in my house, and soft whispers filtered in from the other room. The clock told me it was near eight, and a glance at the window told me the night had passed and we were into morning.

As I slipped out from beneath the quilt, I saw that I was dressed in a loose gown—a soft robe that Mitch had bought me when I started getting too big for my pajamas. My slippers were by the foot of my bed, and I slid them on, then hurried into the bathroom to pee. As I headed toward the kitchen, the voices grew louder.

Camille was at the table, looking dry and fresh, and Delilah was beside her, along with Smoky. Iris, the house sprite who lived with them, brought over a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. She set it in front of me, then patted my shoulder as I slid into a chair.

“Has the hospital called? Is Mitch still…?” My voice faltered. I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t ask if he was still alive because I was afraid of the answer.

Iris nodded, her cheeks rosy from standing over the range. No doubt she’d used my step stool to reach the stovetop. “Yes, he’s still alive. They performed the exploratory surgery yesterday. Good news—the medic says they won’t have to remove the spleen after all. It was damaged, but should recover. His kidneys are bruised but will also recover.”