The Shadow of Mist Page 8

  I sidestepped my way to the wall beside the cart, and backed up against it, hiding the syringe behind me. “Terrance. Please rethink this. Don’t do this—it’s been a hundred years. For all you know, my mother’s people might have died out. Why bother? We live in a different age. Hell, if you want to rule so badly, head over to Otherworld. The world’s a lot harsher there, and a lot more welcoming to our kind.”

  He arched one eyebrow. “If I wanted to go to Otherworld, I would. And your mother’s people are alive and thriving. Do you really think I’m that stupid? I have a network of informants scattered from here to Ireland. I’m a prince among my own people, remember? While it may not mean much to some selkies, the crown still counts for something with the Finfolk and the roane.”

  I moaned gently as he lithely stepped in front of me. “Okay, bitch. It’s time to leave. Let’s go say good-bye to your boyfriend and then be on our way.”

  As he reached for me, I panicked and brought the syringe around, stabbing hard and deep into his neck and pressing the plunger. He screamed and backhanded me, knocking me against the wall. Lon stared dumbly at me, then at his boss, obviously not knowing what to do.

  At that moment, I heard a high-pitched warning cry and looked up to see Delilah, Camille, and Smoky hurtling down the hall. Smoky passed right by me and grabbed Terrance around the waist, squeezing with a mighty grunt. Terrance turned blue and fainted.

  Lon wheeled around, intending to run, but I was feeling my oats now, and I stuck out my foot and tripped him. He went sprawling at Delilah’s feet, and she promptly gave him a kick so hard I could hear bones breaking. I shuddered as Camille took me by the hand and moved me to the side.

  Smoky looked around. Still no one in sight. He frowned, then turned back to me. “What do you want me to do with him?”

  I stared at the dragon. He was offering me what I wanted. What I needed. But could I ask someone else to kill for me?

  If I let Terrance live, there was a chance the Pod would vote to let him go. There were still plenty of members there—mainly female—who resented the fact that my infertility problem had been cured and that Mitch was off the market now. Some selkies mated with whomever they wanted, but Mitch and I . . . he was my one and only. And I was his. I sucked in a deep breath, not knowing what to say.

  As I knelt beside his prone form, trying to build up my nerve to do the job myself, he suddenly went into convulsions. I jumped back, not sure what was going on, and we watched as Terrance spasmed again, then fell silent.

  Camille felt for a pulse. “He’s dead,” she said, standing up. She picked up the needle that I’d stabbed him with. “What’s this?”

  “I don’t know—I was using it to try to buy time so I could get away. What does it say on the cart? It was in that tray right there.” I pointed to the tray.

  She glanced at the label on the tray, then looked at me. “Insulin—meant for a Juanita Chalker. And a hefty dose, at that. Must have thrown him into a hypoglycemic shock and killed him.”

  I stared at Terrance’s body. He was dead. I’d killed him. I glanced at Lon, who was staring at me, pale and wan.

  “Call Chase,” I said. “I guess there’s no harm in telling him what happened now. Turn Lon over to him. Meanwhile, where are the nurses that work this floor?”

  Lon groaned from the floor. “They’re locked up in the cleaning closet. Terrance and I forced them in there. He didn’t want any interference and figured we’d be long gone by the time they broke out.”

  Smoky reached down and lifted Lon by his collar, letting the man dangle with his feet a good ten inches above the ground.

  “You not only endangered the two selkies, but also the lives of every patient on this floor. I should just crisp you and eat you right here, but I think I’ll let the humans have their way with you. But mind you this—if you’re ever set free, and you ever come near this selkie and her mate again, I’ll find you and use your bones as toothpicks. Understand, little man?”

  Lon nodded, his eyes wide, and I felt a rush of warmth in my heart for Camille’s big lug of a husband.

  The sun was setting over the water as Mitch, in his wheelchair, and I stood at the edge of a grassy area just beyond the Daybreak Star Indian Culture Center in Discovery Park, staring out over the Shilshole Bay. Camille and Delilah were a little ways away, sitting on the grass. We were all bundled up. It wasn’t cold, but a chill definitely hung low in the air.

  Mitch reached up with his uninjured arm to take my hand. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. We still didn’t know what would happen when he tried to shift—the pins in his other arm were there for good and the elders of the Pod couldn’t give us an answer, either.

  Luckily, marine Weres—unlike most other Weres—weren’t affected by the full moon. Why, we didn’t know, but we shifted when we wanted. Perhaps it was because the ocean was already aligned to the moon, with its effect on the ebb and flow of the tides. Or maybe we weren’t truly Weres, but some other type of shifter . . . But the upshot was, Mitch wouldn’t have to transform until he felt ready. I could feel his longing, though, to bathe himself in the Ocean Mother’s waters.

  Camille brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked over at us. “So is everything okay?”

  Mitch and I glanced at each other; then Mitch nodded. “Yeah . . . I understand why Siobhan kept her past a secret.”

  “I wanted to forget the past,” I said. “I almost had myself convinced that all my lies were real, that what happened with Terrance had been a nightmare. But I guess you can never run away from your problems. Sometimes you have to face them head-on and defeat the demons that reach out of the dark to grab hold of you.”

  “What happened to Terrance’s cronies?” Delilah stood up and sucked in a deep lungful of air, keeping a wary eye on the water. Even though the waves were a good distance from us, I could see her pull back. I wondered what it would be like to be so afraid of the water. For me, the ocean was an embracing mother, a refuge and sanctuary.

  “Chase wrote it up as self-defense, and the Pod’s indicted Lon for attempted murder and kidnapping. They also caught the other one—Keith—and both of them are going before the Tribunal. I doubt they’ll make it out alive.”

  “Good riddance,” Camille said. After a moment, she turned a dazzling smile our way. “So, did I hear talk of a trip to Scotland?”

  “In a bit.” I tried to repress a smile, but it broke through anyway. “But first, we’re going to Ramsey, on the Isle of Man, where my mother will meet us. Her people still live there, and so I’ll be able to meet my relatives on her side. This is the first time I’ve spoken to her in over a hundred years. She thought I was dead all this time.”

  Mitch laughed. “I still can’t believe I actually married a princess.”

  “I’m not a princess, you doofus.” I grinned.

  “Yes you are, or you will be, once they verify your birth with your mother.” He shrugged, then winced. “Ouch, remind me not to do that again.”

  “I take it you’re reclaiming your rightful heritage?” Delilah clapped her hands. “It’s just like a Cinderella story!”

  “Cinderella story, my ass,” I said, snorting. “Prince Charming can go suck rocks. I’ve met my true love and he’s a contractor.”

  After a moment, my smile faded. “Seriously, I have no idea what will come of this. My mother can visit her homeland, but she can’t rejoin her people—it’s been too long and they’re pissed at her for keeping it a secret from me.”

  “What about her parents? How do they feel?”

  “My grandmother insists that I be entered into the rolls of the Pod, even though I was born into my father’s people. She says since my mother was abducted, I didn’t have a choice as to birthplace, and that I’ll be given dual status with both the Puget Sound Harbor Seal Pod—my Pod of choice—and the Isle of Man Selkies—my mother’s people. We’ll fly there about six weeks before our daughter is born. And she’ll be born into my grandmother’s people, and give
n dual status, too.”

  “What if they want you to return home to rule someday?” Camille dusted off her dress as the clouds began to roll in.

  I stared at the water as it broke along the shore. What would I do? Would I ever return to my mother’s people to accept the crown? I loved it here; I loved the freedom that being just Siobhan Morgan gave me.

  Queen and princess—those titles required a certain loss of freedom. Did I want that? Would Mitch ever accept that?

  “I have no idea. Our daughter can make up her mind when she comes of age—we won’t influence her either way. But for me . . . I think I’d like to stay here, if I can. But who knows what will happen?”

  “What about Terrance’s people? Will they come after you for revenge?” Delilah asked.

  I shook my head. “No, not if everything goes right. They think he died in an accident. That way the Cobh Selkie Pod and the Finfolk won’t take revenge on my mother’s people. But someday, if my grandmother calls me to help her, I may not have a choice.” I looked down at Mitch and he squeezed my hand. “Would you go with me if that happened? If I’m called to lead a war?”

  “I told you before,” he said quietly. “I’ll follow you anywhere. You’re my mate, my love. If you rise to be a queen or a warrior princess, I’ll be at your side. You and our daughter come before anything or anybody . . . or any place.”

  A sharp breeze picked up and I felt the tides of change whip in on it. The world wasn’t what it used to be. Times were changing. If I ever became queen of my people and one of our women was stolen away, we’d do everything in our power to rescue her—and with technology, we’d stand a good chance. No more marriages-by-capture for me or my kind.

  The Supes and Fae of the world were adapting along with the humans, and our cultures had to adapt. It was imperative, if we expected to thrive.

  A sharp kick against my stomach startled me and I laughed.

  “She’s going to be a fighter, our Marion is,” I said, patting my belly.

  “So you’re naming her after the café owner?”

  I nodded. “She helped us in our time of need. I’m going to honor her request. Our Marion will grow up knowing that she’s a new breed of selkie—that the old ways are changing. She’ll be on the cutting edge of that change, and I hope, one day, she’ll leave her mark on the world.”

  Mitch kissed my hand and I leaned down and locked his lips with my own, savoring the kiss, savoring his love, savoring my freedom. Yes, it was a good day, and while I knew that happily ever after never came easily, I thought we stood a pretty good chance of making it happen.

  VANISHED

  An Otherworld Short Story

  There was a tang to the air that she couldn’t place. It whispered to Maggie, reminding her of the scent of her cream drink, and of the big orange balls the Mothers called “pumpkins” and the smell of the sweet treats that Little Mother took out of the hot box. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered as she thought of the sweet and savory flavors of her drink—the richness of the cream, the tang of cinnamon, the slightly musty taste of the sage blended with the sweetness of the sugar. Her belly was empty, but there was no one around to lift her up, to hug her and set out her bowl for her to drink from.

  Disconcerted, the little calico gargoyle looked around, trying to figure out where the Mothers had gone to. She was the size of a toddler, with a wingspan that didn’t quite match her proportions, and her soft, downy fur was mottled with a tortie pattern—brown and orange, with hints of white and black sprinkled throughout. Her round eyes were a cross between those of an owl and a cat, and her ears hung out from her head, drooping and floppy. The little pointed tail curled around her legs as fear made her crouch lower in the jungle.

  The grass tickled her nose. It was nearly chin high, and though Maggie usually loved playing with it—she’d pull it and chew on it and use it to tickle the Mothers—right now, the long blades were more of an annoyance than anything.

  Irritated as it caught at her wings and impeded her progress, she pushed it out of her face, but the going was too rough and the thick grass caught at her wings and threw her off balance. Since she was nowhere near being able to fly yet, crawling seemed the easiest choice. Squatting down, she moved through the jungle on her hands and knees, trying to find her way back to her family.

  A noise to her left made her stop. There were monsters in the world. That much she knew, and they often found their way to this place. Once or twice, they’d come rushing in the house and Little Mother had caught her up and carried her to safety.

  A vague memory of being in a dark, frightening place with Milk Mother played through her mind. Echoes of screams nudged themselves out of the recesses of her thoughts, and she shuddered. Some of those screams had come from Milk Mother herself, and had coincided with sisters and brothers vanishing. The ever-present smell of blood had been overpowering, making it hard for Maggie to drink from her mother’s breast.

  And then, one horrible day, a pair of nasty, stinking, taloned hands snatched her up and stuck her in a dark bag. She’d heard Milk Mother scream, and that frightened her. Maggie began to mooph loudly, as the blackness surrounded her and the bag jostled and shook. This creature meant her harm—she could smell the cruel stench of its anger. Thoughts of her missing brothers and sisters flashed through her head as she cried for Milk Mother.

  Fear rocked her into a catatonic state, and she dozed, too tired to resist the pull of sleep. The next thing she knew, a pretty creature opened the bag and lifted her out, into her arms. Her voice was soft, and though Maggie didn’t understand the words, the emotion behind them was gentle. The creature had taken her home. There, Maggie got to know the Mothers. Camey had named her Maggie, and now she lived with love surrounding her.

  Sometimes at night, though, her dreams drifted back to the dark place of her birth, and she’d fuss. But then Milk Mother would appear and wake her gently, standing next to the crib. Her touch was light, almost nonexistent, and she glowed with a light that shone from within her. Maggie understood, on an innate level, that Milk Mother had crossed into the darkness that had gobbled up her brothers and sisters. She tried to tell the Mothers, but they couldn’t understand her, and she couldn’t form the words yet that would explain the joy of seeing her Milk Mother again.

  Maggie looked around as her stomach rumbled, and she yawned. She was hungry and tired and needed a cuddle, so she began to crawl forward, looking for the Mothers. Crawling was easier than walking, and she made good time.

  As she pushed her way through the grass, a soft voice hissed at her and, startled, she turned. A mouse crouched behind a tall dandelion, staring at her. She knew this mouse—it was one of Dee-ya-ya’s friends, and any friend of the Mothers was a friend of Maggie’s.

  “What you do here, young one, so alone? This is not good.” Misha blinked, her nose quivering. “Does Delilah know you’re out here?”

  Maggie moophed softly. “Dee-ya-ya? Where?” She’d tried to chase Misha once and gotten scolded for it, so now, even though the soft toy looked so appealing, she restrained herself, not wanting anybody mad at her.

  “You don’t know?” Misha glanced around, her tail flicking to the side. “You really are lost, little one, aren’t you?” With a sigh, she twitched her whiskers once more and said, “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be back.” And with that, she vanished into the undergrowth.

  Sad—she didn’t like being alone, and Misha’s presence had made her feel more secure—Maggie scowled. The mouse had told her not to move, but she wasn’t one of the Mothers and therefore, the baby gargoyle didn’t feel the need to obey. With a hrmph, she began to crawl again, pushing her way through the grass.

  As she steadily worked her way through the jungle of blades and dandelions and the occasional cornflower or wild bluebell, the air began to chill and the vague sense that something was wrong began to steal over her. Maggie frowned. Where was everybody? Had they just left her alone?

  She screwed up her face as she sat
back, her wings skimming the ground, and began to whimper. Maybe the Mothers were never going to come after her. Maybe she’d done something very bad and this was her punishment. Usually, when she was a bad girl, she had to sit in her playpen without a toy, or take an extra nap. Now, even the mouse had abandoned her.

  But even worse than the realization that her family was nowhere around, was the sense that she was not alone. And Not Alone was not a good thing. Because there was something out there that made her afraid. The very feel of it was oppressive, and she shivered, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands against her shoulders. She didn’t know what to do next. Where was Camey? Or Menny? Or even the Little Mother, I’is?

  I’is had not been as playful lately, and her tummy was growing. She wasn’t picking Maggie up as much as before, and she wasn’t playing as much as she used to. Maggie didn’t like that. Not at all. In fact, the feeling that somebody, somewhere, was demanding more of I’is’s attention, made her angry. Frustrated, she begun lashing out, slapping at whoever was holding her, wanting things to just go back to normal.

  But now . . . now . . . she just wanted to be back home with her family.

  A smell wafted out from the nearby grove of huckleberries, and her stomach lurched. The scent reminded her of the time with her Milk Mother, and the harsh light they’d lived in, and the dry heat and pungent fumes that had surrounded them constantly. As the grass shifted and parted, Maggie hiccupped, her tears drying as the fear took hold.

  A blur of motion, and then—a creature, one of the Not Friends as Misha called them—loomed over her, grinning. But the grin wasn’t friendly, and his feral teeth gleamed as he laughed.

  “Mooph . . . ” Maggie let out a little cry, then turned, trying to crawl away.

  The creature said something in a harsh, guttural voice.

  Maggie didn’t understand the words, but his intent was clear. She scrambled, trying to make her way back through the grass, but the goblin’s long arms reached down to snatch her up, roughly holding her around the waist. He turned her to face him, and leered, licking his lips.