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 mother, who had
followed the sea king beneath the wave centuries before. She did not
know the fate of her father. She had no mate, no child. She hunted, slept,
lived alone.
She shook her head and then winced.
A crease appeared between Caleb’s eyebrows. “No one?”
Her hands clenched beneath the long jacket cuffs. She did not relish
his pity. She was selkie, one of the First Creation, a child of the sea.
Or she had been.
In the sea, in her own territory, her lack of connections had never
troubled her. But in the human’s world, maybe everyone was tangled and
bound together.
He must not suspect she was not of his world.
60
She let herself sway on her feet, let the jacket fall open over her bare
breasts. It was not so hard to pretend dizziness. Her head throbbed. Her
legs trembled. The demon’s attack had frightened her—weakened her—more than she wanted to admit. “I . . . can’t think. I don’t remember.”
Caleb did not look at her breasts. Those clear green eyes remained
fixed on her face with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “All
right,” he said slowly. “You can wait in the Jeep until Ted gets here, and
then I’ll drive you to the doctor.”
The inside of his vehicle—Jeep, Margred repeated silently to
herself—was dark and warm and smelled of metal and oil and man. Land
smells. Alien smells. In the
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 mother, who had
followed the sea king beneath the wave centuries before. She did not
know the fate of her father. She had no mate, no child. She hunted, slept,
lived alone.
She shook her head and then winced.
A crease appeared between Caleb’s eyebrows. “No one?”
Her hands clenched beneath the long jacket cuffs. She did not relish
his pity. She was selkie, one of the First Creation, a child of the sea.
Or she had been.
In the sea, in her own territory, her lack of connections had never
troubled her. But in the human’s world, maybe everyone was tangled and
bound together.
He must not suspect she was not of his world.
60
She let herself sway on her feet, let the jacket fall open over her bare
breasts. It was not so hard to pretend dizziness. Her head throbbed. Her
legs trembled. The demon’s attack had frightened her—weakened her—more than she wanted to admit. “I . . . can’t think. I don’t remember.”
Caleb did not look at her breasts. Those clear green eyes remained
fixed on her face with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “All
right,” he said slowly. “You can wait in the Jeep until Ted gets here, and
then I’ll drive you to the doctor.”
The inside of his vehicle—Jeep, Margred repeated silently to
herself—was dark and warm and smelled of metal and oil and man. Land
smells. Alien smells. In the
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