Chapter 6

chapter 6

Maeve

For days, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell Nox that my mother and grandmother don’t know about my missing skin. For days, I’ve failed to find the right words. I know what Nox would say—my family loves me and won’t think less of me for falling into such a simple trap.

Maybe they’re even right. Maybe my mother wouldn’t get that stony look on her face and blame my foolishness of getting involved in the rebellion. Maybe my grandmother wouldn’t shed enough tears to drown me, lamenting on how worried she always is and how I’m going to put her into an early grave. My family does love me, and desperately, but all that means is they worry.

Even worse is the fact that losing my skin had nothing to do with the rebellion. I have nothing to blame but my own terrible judgment and the loneliness that sometimes becomes too much to bear. Without those two working in tandem, I’d like to believe I never would have been seduced by Bronagh.

Shame becomes a physical thing that plagues my steps as the distance shrinks between me and the tavern where my family lives and works. It’s too late to run. I already did that. I even convinced myself that I was being brave and resourceful in trying to track down Bronagh without help.

Maybe if I’d admitted the truth as soon as I realized what happened, my mother and grandmother could have helped. Maybe I wouldn’t be facing down a journey with no definitive end.

That bastard took my skin. He played me with sweet words, seduced me with his touch and gifts, and the moment I dropped my guard, he stole part of me and sailed away. With each day that passes, the distance grows greater. There’s no guarantee he’ll hang on to it, either. A selkie skin can go for a high price on the black market. It’s a bragging right that the worst of Threshold loves to hold close.

I need to move. To get out of here. To find a ship, find a crew?.?.?.

The enormity of the task before me makes my knees threaten to buckle. Nox is right in their own way; I’ve never been anywhere but Viedna. I can measure the distance of my world in a finite number of steps I’ve traversed more times than I can begin to count. I know every rock and tree and the quirks of the currents beneath the waves. But only here. Only on this island.

Out in the greater world? I thought I’d have a chance, but evidence points to the contrary. I don’t have the skills or experience to do any of this. The last time I tried, I ended up as a captive and put the entire rebellion at risk because Nox had to come save me. What makes me think I can do this?

Without intending to, I allow myself to fall farther and farther back, the distance between me and the door to the tavern growing. If Nox notices, they make no sign of it. The others follow their lead.

Except for Lizzie.

I’m not quite sure how she manages it, but she slows until her pace matches mine, eventually coming to a stop just outside the merry lights decorating the exterior of the tavern. I love those lights. I hung them with my grandmother when I was fifteen, a project that took days and a few misadventures. They’re a sign of happier times, of when I was a different person. More innocent. They used to represent home and safety and everything a person could want. But looking at them right now, all I can think of is the many ways I’ve failed.

I miss my grandmother like an ache in my bones. I miss my mother even more.

It doesn’t matter. I can’t face them. I don’t know why I thought I could. I make an abrupt turn toward the dark pathway that leads between buildings deeper into the village. Lizzie matches my steps effortlessly. It takes me a few minutes to gather my wits about me enough to question her presence.

“You don’t have to play guard. I’m as safe in this village as I am anywhere else.” The words are bitter on my tongue. I was safe in this village. Until I brought misfortune upon myself. The flavor of self-pity doesn’t sit well with me, but combating it feels as impossible as reclaiming my pelt.

I expect Lizzie to be derisive or maybe insult me. That seems to be her preferred method of communication. Instead, her voice is carefully neutral when she says, “Your family doesn’t know your skin is lost.”

“What an amazing deduction you just made.” I know better than to show anything other than calm in the presence of a predator. I might as well throw blood in the water—and then myself for good measure.

But instead of looking angry or striking back, she merely slides her hands into her pockets and continues walking by my side. “Have you thought about my offer?”

I’ve thought of nothing else. No matter which way I look at it, I really don’t have a choice about accepting it. Lizzie isn’t a local, but she is fearsome in her powers. She’s not a bad ally to have at my side. “I noticed in your offer there’s nothing about feeding you.”

“Maeve?.?.?.” She says my name slowly, as if tasting it. As if tasting me.

My eyesight is better than most in the darkness, which is why I see her lick her lips. As if she can already taste me there. I should be scared out of my mind. I like my blood exactly where it is, contained within skin and muscle and bone. I’m a predator, for all that I don’t look it right now. I don’t feed other predators with my body.

So why is there a little tingle down my spine? Something that isn’t quite fear.

“What?” I finally manage.

“You seem to have an extreme interest in how I feed. If you want me to bite you, just ask. Really, you’re trying too hard.”

I have to stop myself from snapping my teeth at her. She’s so incredibly aggravating. My irritation is the only excuse I have for being perfectly honest. “Even if I was going to say yes to your help, it wouldn’t work. I’m already too far behind, and if the trail goes cold, my chances of finding him—of finding my skin—are practically nonexistent. He’ll sell my pelt before I have a chance to stop him.”

Lizzie shrugs. “So we start tonight. Let’s steal a ship and get out of here.”

I stare, but she doesn’t appear to be joking. Or to have a sense of humor at all. “This is my village. You can’t honestly expect for me to steal from my own people.”

She tilts her head back and looks at the sky above. The stars twinkle merrily, much more distant from our current problems. I envy them. Lizzie laughs softly. “Look at it this way, selkie. It’s not stealing. We have to get back here somehow, and we’ll bring the ship back with us when we do.”

As if that would make it any better. Unfortunately, her plan has a few key issues. “Even if I was willing to follow that logic, there are no ships in Viedna.”

She doesn’t stop short, but there’s a slight hitch in her step. “Impossible.”

“Hardly.” I turn around the corner of the last building and head toward the rocky shore. My feet know this path from many years of traveling it. Every stone and crack as familiar as the freckles on my skin. “Everyone who lives here is a selkie. We don’t need boats to fish and feed ourselves. The rest of the population either have no desire to leave, or they catch a ride on one of the trade ships that pass through regularly.”

“Inconvenient,” she mutters, “but unsurprising. Nothing about the situation has been easy from the beginning. There’s no reason it should start now.”

I ignore her and keep walking. Usually by the time I hit this point in the trail, peace and joy fill my chest, twisting in anticipation of diving below the surface and losing myself in the depths. The crash of the surf soothes me, promising a joy I only experience when swimming.

No longer.

I stop on the rocky beach and look out to where the waves are frothy and white and perfect. Deadly. Not for my other form, but they would break this human body against the rocks. I can hold my breath longer than a mundane human; I don’t feel the cold as intensely as they do, but without my tail, my serpentine body that so easily cuts and swirls and twirls through the water?.?.?.

I sit on the edge of the nearest boulder and fight against the bitterness threatening to swallow me whole. If I’m not able to find Bronagh, this is the life that waits for me. One where I’m always cast to the side, where I’m forced to watch my family and friends enjoy the very things no longer accessible to me.

Maybe there will come a day when that won’t feel like a sharp burning on my tongue that makes me want to cry. I don’t know if falling into that acceptance is a good thing or a terrible tragedy. I don’t know anything anymore.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that it takes me several long moments to register the feel of Lizzie’s eyes on me. I glance over to find her watching me closely. Even now, there’s a part of me that wants her despite myself. She’s beautiful and dangerous, and there’s certainly no risk that I would get attached with how distant she holds herself. Maybe if I lost myself in a few hours of pleasure, the world would feel a little less dim in the morning.

“Do you think your family will blame you for the loss of your pelt? Is that why you’re avoiding going home?”

The question washes away my lustful thoughts. I twist around to stare at the waves once more. “Of course not. They love me just as much as I love them. They would mourn the loss as if it were their own.” And then it will finally be real. Lizzie doesn’t respond, so I find myself elaborating. “It’s happened before, you know. There was a time when stealing a selkie skin was an honored tradition among sailors. They would take some of their victims as spouses, trapped in one form and perpetually mourning, but just as often they would sail away with no intention of returning. Once that happens enough, bruises enough generations, you learn to cope.”

“Cope.” The word sounds like an insult from her lips.

“What else would you have us do? In the water, we’re nearly unmatched. Even with magic, most humans don’t stand a chance. We’re faster. More agile. We’ve had to be.” I swallow thickly. “But like this?” I wave a hand at my body. “We’re just as human as anyone else. Just as easily cut down.”

She moves so fast not even my superior eyesight can track her. One moment she’s standing several feet away, appearing relaxed—or as relaxed as the vampire ever gets—and the next she’s crouched in front of me, my chin in a painful grip between her fingers. “That’s about enough of that.”

I try to jerk back, but I might as well be encased in stone. I knew she was strong. Apparently I had no idea. “Let me go.”

“Only if you’re done with this pity party.”

Shame is a fire in my blood. She’s right, and I hate that. “Let. Me. Go.” A growl inches into my voice and surprises me so much that I go slack. Where did that come from?

“Better.” Her grip softens slightly, but she doesn’t release me.

The faint pain centers me, allows me to keep speaking. “Even if nothing else was in play, my family has never been happy about my involvement in the rebellion. They’ll blame Nox and their people for my loss, and will stop informing on the C?n Annwn. The rebellion can’t afford that loss.”

“The rebellion.” Her lips twist. “All I ever hear about is that fucking rebellion. The way I see it, you have two options. You can turn around and walk back to the tavern and be embraced in the tearful arms of your family. You can settle into a life where you’re only half of who you were meant to be.”

I can’t quite catch my breath. “Or?”

“Or we can figure out how to steal a ship and go get your skin back.” She finally drops her hand and rises gracefully to her feet. With the stars in the night sky behind her, she’s a sliver of shadow before me. “It’s your choice.”

It’s no choice at all. It never has been. If I have to learn to live without my skin, then I’ll do it. But not until I’m certain I’ve done everything in my power to attempt to retrieve it. I lick my lips, tasting the salty sea air. My need to be beneath the waves is a craving in my blood that I don’t know how to combat. I’ve never had to before. I want to get back to a point where I never have to again. “I might have an idea.”

“I thought so.” She steps back, gracefully avoiding turning her ankle on the rocks beneath her feet, and motions for me to stand. “Let’s go.”

Just like that.

I turn toward my village and allow myself a moment to memorize the sights and sounds and smells. The bright lights twinkling in the windows. The faint scent of people cooking dinner as they wind down for the day, eager to get some rest before they start again in the morning. The quiet. Most of all, the quiet. I wish I could say goodbye during the day, when people are bustling around and laughter and conversation fill my ears. This will have to be enough. I tuck the memory away, promising myself that I won’t let it dim with time?.?.?. that I won’t let enough time pass for it to dim. I won’t forget them. I’ll be back.

“This way.” I lead her to a path that’s nearly invisible in the night and head north along the coastline. Once again, Lizzie falls into step behind me with a grace that I might envy under other circumstances. Considering she’s haunting my steps, I’ll save that envy for another day. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end to have a predator so close behind me. I don’t trust her, and yet I have to trust her at the same time.

“Where are we going?” The question is absent of even a hint of curiosity. That’s an interesting trick.

I pick my way along a particularly tricky section of the path before I answer. “I wasn’t entirely honest when I said there were no ships here. We don’t have ships but we do have boats—that’s how I got off the island in the first place. They’re just not meant to sail over long distances. There’s the added problem that if the C?n Annwn see us, we’re liable to end up in the brig, just like where you found me.”

Lizzie laughs softly, the sound trailing down my spine and seeming to sink its fingers beneath my skin. “If the C?n Annwn find us, we won’t be the ones to meet misfortune. They will.”

“What are you going to do—kill them all?” The very idea is absurd.

“Yes.”

I start to laugh but stop short when I realize she’s not joking. She means it. If the C?n Annwn try to stop us, she’ll kill them all. Or at least she’ll try. “Shouldn’t we attempt literally anything else before we try to murder a ship full of C?n Annwn and potentially bring the whole fleet down on our heads?”

She laughs again, low and throaty. “Maeve, you really need to dream a little bigger.”

Oh gods, what have I gotten myself into?