Never After

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 tu

“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.”

“What about his arm? It was shattered.”

“They went in early this morning. He should be out of surgery in an hour. He’s going to need time to heal up, though. He’ll be in the hospital for a while—a couple weeks at least.”

I pressed my hands to my lips. Two surgeries in two days. Two too many. “Terrance is going to pay for this.”

“By the way, we took you to the FH-CSI medical unit last night. You and your baby are fine, so no worries there.” Camille leaned over my shoulder and gave me a hug. “We decided not to wake you out of the trance that Menolly put you in. You were in shock and desperately needed rest. Sharah says the baby is fine, and she countered the waterweed in your system. It really shouldn’t be used by pregnant women, but she doesn’t think any damage was done.”

I blinked back tears. “Thank you,” I whispered, not wanting to think about the past twenty-four hours. “What about Terrance?”

“He and his men are still out there,” Smoky said from the head of the table. “I had to drop him for fear he might hurt you.”

“Is it true? Camille told us that Terrance claims you’re heir to a throne?” Delilah asked.

I shrugged. “I suppose so. I don’t think Terrance would have bothered chasing me through all these years and over all those miles without some ulterior motive like that. He’s always been a control freak, grasping for power. And I’m the key to that power.”

A sudden chill washed over me. “If we don’t find him, I’ll never be able to stop looking over my shoulder. My daughter will be in danger; Mitch will be in danger, because Terrance will never, ever stop. He’ll come back, again and again, until I kill him or he kills me. I won’t let him take me back as the key to enslave my mother’s people.”

The eggs and toast were threatening to pay a return visit, but Camille brushed my hair back and gently ran her hand over my forehead, and my nausea began to subside. Her skin was cool against the heat flaring on my face.

“Everything will be okay.” She gently rubbed my neck, easing the knots that had built up. “We’re here to help. We won’t let him hurt you.”

I glanced up in time to see Delilah frown at her.

“I won’t hold you to that. I won’t hold anybody to a promise like that. But I thank you. For being here. For putting yourselves on the line. So…” I sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Time to pull myself out of the mire and face reality. “What do we—I—do next?”

“Terrance isn’t stupid. What’s the one way he could break your spirit, besides harming your daughter?” Smoky leaned across the table, and gently took my hand, his fingers light on my wrist. I stared at his hands. They were strong but unblemished, so far from the taloned claws they’d been the night before, and yet—and yet I could feel the nature of the dragon emanating from every pore.