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thoughtfully. She had bitten him.
Like an animal. She must really want . . . whatever it was.
“And what’s that?”
“In the fire.”
57
“What did he take, Maggie?”
She stared at him blankly.
Shock, he thought. He’d seen it before, in victims huddled at the side of the road after a car accident, in soldiers on stretchers after an enemy attack: the rapid breathing, the dilated pupils, the insistent repetition. She was in shock.
Or concussed.
He felt a quick lurch of concern. He couldn’t rush her with questions like an overzealous rookie conducting his first interview. She needed time and medical attention before he could begin to make sense of what had happened.
What had happened? He had seen—Caleb could have sworn he’d seen—a man jump into a bonfire without leaving a trace behind. How the hell did you make sense of that?
He flipped open his phone.
“What are you doing?” Maggie asked.
“Calling Donna Tomah—our island doctor. You need somebody to check out that bump on your head.”
And do a rape workup, he thought. Deadly anger coiled in his gut.
She put her hand to her head and looked at her fingers as if she’d never seen blood before. Her eyes were dark and dazed.
Caleb’s jaw set. When he found out what had happened, when he found the bastard who did this to her, he’d heave him into the fire himself.
Her pelt was gone.
Stolen.
Burned.
Destroyed .
58
Fear welled thick and cold inside her, smothering her chest. Margred forced herself to breathe. She had survived, she reminded herself. Things could be worse.
She stared at her blood-smeared fingers. How could this be worse?
Yes, she was alive now, but without her pelt she could never return to the sea. Never return to Sanctuary. Away from the enchantment of the island, she would age. She would live a span of human years and die, never to be reborn.
The fear spilled over, paralyzing her. Margred tried to force it down, but it was like trying to hold back the sea with her cupped hands.
Endless existence has its own . . . burdens , she had said to Dylan mere hours ago. But now . . . Now
She closed her eyes in terror and despair. She was such a fool.
The device in Caleb’s hand snapped shut. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, a terrible compassion in his eyes.
Her backbone straightened reflexively.
“Donna can meet you at the clinic,” he said. “I’ll get Ted Sherman to drive you. He’s one of our volunteer firefighters. ”
A firefighter, she thought dully. Well, that made sense. She had caught a whiff of something—demon—right before the attack that knocked her unconscious. She had not supposed humans would have the knowledge to set a firefighter against a fire demon, but . . .
And then the rest of his meaning penetrated her numb consciousness.
“No,” she said. “I can’t leave the beach.”
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had no reason to stay. There was nothing for her here. No sealskin. No escape. No hope.
The realization struck her soul, bleak as the dawn over mudflats. A howl built in the back of her throat.
59
The human watched her, his mouth kind and his eyes shrewd. “I’ll join you,” he said. “As soon as I’ve secured the scene.”
He was leaving her?
He was leaving. Her.
Margred shivered with loss and indignation. Everything she knew was slipping away. She felt herself dissipating, escaping like water through her fingers. She wasn’t about to let the one person she did know out of her grasp.
Caleb might be human, but at least he was familiar.
“I won’t go. Not without you.”
“Is there anybody I can call?” His voice was deep and very gentle.
“To stay with you.”
“No.”
“A friend? Family member maybe.”
Margred barely remembered the face of her
Like an animal. She must really want . . . whatever it was.
“And what’s that?”
“In the fire.”
57
“What did he take, Maggie?”
She stared at him blankly.
Shock, he thought. He’d seen it before, in victims huddled at the side of the road after a car accident, in soldiers on stretchers after an enemy attack: the rapid breathing, the dilated pupils, the insistent repetition. She was in shock.
Or concussed.
He felt a quick lurch of concern. He couldn’t rush her with questions like an overzealous rookie conducting his first interview. She needed time and medical attention before he could begin to make sense of what had happened.
What had happened? He had seen—Caleb could have sworn he’d seen—a man jump into a bonfire without leaving a trace behind. How the hell did you make sense of that?
He flipped open his phone.
“What are you doing?” Maggie asked.
“Calling Donna Tomah—our island doctor. You need somebody to check out that bump on your head.”
And do a rape workup, he thought. Deadly anger coiled in his gut.
She put her hand to her head and looked at her fingers as if she’d never seen blood before. Her eyes were dark and dazed.
Caleb’s jaw set. When he found out what had happened, when he found the bastard who did this to her, he’d heave him into the fire himself.
Her pelt was gone.
Stolen.
Burned.
Destroyed .
58
Fear welled thick and cold inside her, smothering her chest. Margred forced herself to breathe. She had survived, she reminded herself. Things could be worse.
She stared at her blood-smeared fingers. How could this be worse?
Yes, she was alive now, but without her pelt she could never return to the sea. Never return to Sanctuary. Away from the enchantment of the island, she would age. She would live a span of human years and die, never to be reborn.
The fear spilled over, paralyzing her. Margred tried to force it down, but it was like trying to hold back the sea with her cupped hands.
Endless existence has its own . . . burdens , she had said to Dylan mere hours ago. But now . . . Now
She closed her eyes in terror and despair. She was such a fool.
The device in Caleb’s hand snapped shut. She opened her eyes and found him watching her, a terrible compassion in his eyes.
Her backbone straightened reflexively.
“Donna can meet you at the clinic,” he said. “I’ll get Ted Sherman to drive you. He’s one of our volunteer firefighters. ”
A firefighter, she thought dully. Well, that made sense. She had caught a whiff of something—demon—right before the attack that knocked her unconscious. She had not supposed humans would have the knowledge to set a firefighter against a fire demon, but . . .
And then the rest of his meaning penetrated her numb consciousness.
“No,” she said. “I can’t leave the beach.”
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She had no reason to stay. There was nothing for her here. No sealskin. No escape. No hope.
The realization struck her soul, bleak as the dawn over mudflats. A howl built in the back of her throat.
59
The human watched her, his mouth kind and his eyes shrewd. “I’ll join you,” he said. “As soon as I’ve secured the scene.”
He was leaving her?
He was leaving. Her.
Margred shivered with loss and indignation. Everything she knew was slipping away. She felt herself dissipating, escaping like water through her fingers. She wasn’t about to let the one person she did know out of her grasp.
Caleb might be human, but at least he was familiar.
“I won’t go. Not without you.”
“Is there anybody I can call?” His voice was deep and very gentle.
“To stay with you.”
“No.”
“A friend? Family member maybe.”
Margred barely remembered the face of her
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