13. Nick

I’m going home. Or at least, I’m going to try to go home. But what Oona doesn’t know yet is that I’m going to take her back with me, because leaving her to live out the rest of her days in the lagoon in solitude isn’t an option. At least not for me.

Once we’re back at the tree house, she starts packing a bag with what looks to be weeks’ worth of food. Dried fish. Smoked rabbit jerky. Jarred eyeballs that must be for her, because she knows I sure as hell won’t touch them.

I sit down on the edge of our stone and branch bed and watch as she shoves everything into her bag, her massive tail swishing behind her. She’s resolved in her purpose and doesn’t look at me. Not once. It’s not like I can read people all that well, because I definitely can’t, but … I can tell she’s hurting. For one thing, her tail movements are too brusque and hard. She hums an upbeat tune to herself as she works, but she’s never hummed once in all the weeks I’ve known her.

She’s trying too hard.

“Oona,” I say, then swallow hard. “Stop. It’s okay.”

Oona doesn’t look up at me as she shoves another jar of fermented flies into the pack. Just the sight of those smelly, acidic things makes my stomach turn. I’m really, really looking forward to sinking my teeth into a cheeseburger. I’m also looking forward to introducing her to cheeseburgers. No, I haven’t thought any of this out yet. What to do with her once we reach the city. How I’m going to keep her safe and hidden like she’s kept me safe and hidden.

It’s been a lot easier out here. Everything out here wants to eat, poison, or drown me. We aren’t worried about fitting into society out here, because only the laws of nature apply, which is both a good and bad thing. But in the city, there are people. And while some people might be thrilled to know there’s a species of bipedal lagoon creatures in existence, others might not be so understanding. Or kind. And it’s those people who worry me.

Not like I’d want to stick around the city for very long, anyway. After all, the mafia tried to kill me. It’s not like I can just walk around in plain sight. I’ll need a new identity and a new place to call home. Maybe she and I can move off the grid in the desert somewhere? Set up our own homestead. Live off the land like we’re doing right now, only somewhere less hostile?

Never mind the fact that I can’t even keep a houseplant alive, and here I am, thinking about buying some chickens and making a go of it with my reptilian friend.

Friend? More like girlfriend at this point, I suppose. Or mate, if that’s what she’d prefer. I wouldn’t mind being called her mate.

Mate … it does have a certain ring to it. I bet the boys back home would have a lot to say about this. About my new girl. Heh. Would they laugh at me? Think I’m crazy?

Not that I care, of course. I mean, not one of them stuck up for me when the boss gave the order to kill me. Not a single one. Not even Maurice, and we were closer than anyone in the organization. I’ve met his mother, for God’s sake. At least he, of all people, should have stepped in, but everyone was too afraid for their own necks. Some family they turned out to be.

When my mother died, I was still underage, so I wound up being tossed from foster home to foster home until I finally turned eighteen. Then I started off doing low-level pick-pocketing. Selling weed whenever I could. It wasn’t long until I caught the attention of the Luther’s group and was brought into the fold as a low-level errand boy.

And here I thought all we did was harass local gangs for money and deal in weed. But we weren’t Robin Hood’s Merry Men, and I wasn’t playing the role of the city’s morally gray cutpurse. No, I’m a na?ve fool.

I scrub a hand through my hair and sigh. No. Definitely not a family I want any part in. And I should have known better, because I’d seen other men, enemies and former allies alike, taken down to the docks to get a bullet put between their eyes before being unceremoniously dumped. Why I thought I was special, above any of that treatment, is beyond me.

Sensing my unease, Oona takes my hands into hers and squeezes them gently. Her sullen blue eyes find mine, and her bottom lip trembles like she’s about to cry. I reach up to stroke a hand across her hair, appreciating the softness of it.

“Oh, no, pretty girl. No need for tears. Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine,” I murmur. “You just wait. You’ll see. I’ll bring down the moon and hang it around your neck if that’s what you want.”

When I smile at her, she tries to smile back, but it doesn’t reach her lovely eyes. I lie back on the stone bed and pat the space beside me, beckoning her to the crook of my shoulder. Her spot, always, to claim. She climbs onto the bed and snuggles up against me, curling her tail around my torso in a protective vice. I comb my fingers through her hair while I hum a soft melody in her ear.

“You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were the most hideous creature I’d ever seen…” I whisper, my voice hitching on the last syllable. “But then I realized what a beauty you are. A diamond in the rough, they’d call you.”

All the things I want to say to her that I’d normally tell a woman of my own species is lost on her. Despite the progress we’d made with our language lessons, we still have far to go before we can recite romantic poetry to one another. I’ll need to express myself through actions, instead. So that’s what I’m going to do. Show her that I’m capable of taking care of her as much as she’s taken care of me.

When we finally manage to roll out of bed and hit the road, Oona’s tail drags behind in the grass more than usual. Her steps are plodding, and when she smiles, her eyes are a muted brown color. She’s heartbroken. I get it. I would be, too, if I thought we were about to be permanently separated. But that’s not going to happen. I’m going to make sure of it. I just wish I could tell her all my grand plans for the two of us to put her heart at ease.

We make our way through the thick foliage, taking care not to walk too deeply in the grass so I don’t wind up a tick magnet. A few of them end up on my shins anyway, but they’re easy enough to pluck and discard.

She picks a few ticks from my calves for me, and instead of flicking them away, she pops them into her mouth and crunches on them loudly like they’re candy. When she offers me one, I shake my head, and only then does she let out a howl of laughter that makes me smile from ear to ear. It’s good to hear her laugh again, even if it’s over ticks.

“We brought food with us,” I say as I move a few raised branches aside and step over them carefully. “You don’t have to resort to eating the bugs off my body.”

A branch snaps under my foot, and before I can react, a massive boar charges through the brush at me.

I barely have time to let out a gasp before I’m whisked off my feet and tossed to the ground. Oona manages to get me out of the way of the boar’s tusks, but in doing so, puts herself in harm’s way. The boar’s tusk lodges itself into her side, goring her. She lets out a shrill scream as the warthog squeals in fury.

My blood instantly turns to ice, and I jump to my feet to rush to her aid.

“Oona!” I scream, and the boar lets out another squeal as it tries, and fails, to pry itself out of my girlfriend. My girlfriend who just got gored by a boar.

My heart thunders in my chest as I grab a sharp branch and stab it into the boar’s side with all my strength. When I pierce the beast’s flesh, I withdraw the makeshift spear and drive it its stomach again and again and again as it squeals in agony. It writhes violently in its death throes as I’m driven purely by instinct.

I have to save her. I have to save her. I have to. The words repeat in my mind until finally, after what feels like forever, the boar’s body goes still, its tusk still lodged in Oona’s side.

I don’t hesitate before dropping to my knees at her side. Her breathing turns ragged, and she holds her hand to the weeping wound.

“Wait,” I say, placing my hand over hers and stopping her from yanking the tusk free. “Don’t. Not yet. We need something to dress the wound, first. Shit.”

Oona shakes her head as she slides down onto the forest floor. Her chest rises and falls heavily, leaving me to watch as her eyes flash from blue to black and then a frosty white.

“Oona? Sweetheart, darling….” I grab her hands and squeeze them. “Just relax for a moment. It’s going to be okay. It didn’t hit anything vital.”

I don’t think, at least. Back home, I’ve seen wounds much, much worse than this. I’ve watched friends bleed out right before my very eyes. I know what you need to hit in order to cause the most damage. To kill someone quick, or to drag out the process. Whatever we were ordered to do. So long as Oona’s anatomy isn’t too far off from my own, I’ll be able to help her.

But I need supplies. We don’t have any. Nothing to administer first aid.

“Shit. What to do….” I grab my hair and pull as I look around frantically. Oona’s breathing is still labored, which worries me. I’ve never seen her hurt like this before. Oona, the eight-foot queen of the lagoon, who seemed so invincible before. And she took that hit for me. To save me. I can’t let her die. Not after everything we’ve been through together.

Despite my protests, Oona pushes herself up to sit and leans back against a nearby tree trunk.

“Nick.” Her voice is so weak. My heart lurches, but I lean forward so I can hear her.

“What is it?” I ask. I’m pathetic. Worse than pathetic, really. I’m useless to her. In her hour of need, I can’t do a damned thing to help her.

Oona takes my hand into hers and closes her eyes, and for a moment I swear she’s going to pass right then and there. My throat bobs, and I brush my palm against her cheek as tears slide down mine.

“Please, Oona. Stay with me. Stay. We have so much left to do. I’ve been making plans for us. You can’t?—”

Then Oona, my fearless warrior queen, picks up my hand and hocks the biggest, phlegmiest loogy into my palm.

I blink. “Oh … okay. What?—”

“Wound. Press,” she rasps.

I look down at my saliva-filled palm, and suddenly, a light bulb goes off over my head. Of course! Her spit! I waste no more time in rubbing the wound with her saliva.

She hisses, and her tail thrashes in the grass. No doubt this is beyond painful, but the wound begins to close up seamlessly within moments. The tusk is forced out of the bloody hole and thrown onto the ground with the rest of the boar. Oona’s side is completely healed without even a scar as evidence.

“Nick,” she whispers, her throat scratchy and raw. I frown as I look her up and down. She might appear fine now, but something tells me it’s not a good idea to start moving around too quickly. Not yet.

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s all right. I got you. We’ll be on our way soon enough,” I murmur.

Oona rubs her side, then smiles down at me. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Thank you,” she says. “Thank you, Nick.”

I lift her hand and brush my lips across her knuckles. “It was my honor, helping you.”

Oona leans forward, brushes some of the hair out of my eyes, and kisses me on the mouth. It’s sloppy at first, and unpracticed, but I don’t care. She could kiss like a fish for all I care, and I would still love every second of it. I deepen the kiss and run my fingers through her soft waves before nibbling on her bottom lip.

She pulls away and traces the spot I bit with her claw. Blinking, she murmurs, “What? Why?”

I chuckle. “Just a little nibble. Claiming you,” I say with a wink, then push myself up to stand. I don’t want to move her too soon, but we might not have a choice. Come nightfall, we’ll be in dire straits unless we find a place to camp. Reluctantly, I offer her my hand. I hate that I have to do this, but we can’t risk it. “Come on. We’re burning too much daylight. We should get a move on and find someplace to set up camp.”

Oona takes my hand into hers and continues to stroke her bottom lip as we make our way through the brush.