Ashes on the Waves (16 page)

She stared straight ahead at a grim painting of what appeared to be one of Dante’s circles of hell.

“What I want is irrelevant at this point. What’s important is that I haven’t been completely forthcoming about what happened at Francine’s last night.”

She shifted to face me. The strokes of color across her flawless pale skin took my breath away. “You’re talking about the angel that turned into a . . . whatever that was.”

“The Cailleach.” This was it. In keeping her safe, I was ensuring my loss of the one thing I loved the most. I took a deep breath. “It brings death to those who see it.”

“I don’t feel dead,” she said with a smirk.

“I don’t mean immediately. It’s a warning, Anna, an omen. You need to get off this island as soon as you can before it comes true. You saw it. No one sees it and lives.”

She placed her hands on either side of my neck and the tension melted from my shoulders. “Listen to me, Liam. I’m not buying it. I don’t believe in prophecies, omens, fortunes, palm readers, psychics, or creepy crones predicting death. I’ve never lived my life in fear. I won’t begin living that way now.”

“But—” She silenced me by placing a finger over my lips.

“Granted. Freaky things happen on this island. What you’re telling me may be true, but I’m not going to run away because of a story.”

“I’m begging you to leave, Anna,” I pleaded. “Please go.”

“You want me to leave?” She got on her knees, face only inches from mine. “Is that what you really want?” I nodded. She moved so close, our noses touched and her breath tickled my lips. “Really?” She pressed her cheek against mine and whispered in my ear, causing chills to race down my spine. “Because I don’t believe you.”

“Anna, please.”

She caught my earlobe between her teeth and released it. “I can’t leave,” she whispered. “It’s not possible.” She trailed kisses down the side of my neck and I groaned. Her lips tightened into a smile against my skin. “I’ve found the best thing ever, and you expect me to just take off because of some bogus fairy tale?”

I was certain my heart would stop any second. I wanted to object, to beg her to listen, but I could only sit still, mesm
erized by her touch.

“It’s not going to happen, Liam. I’m not dying and I’m not leaving.” She pulled away and stared into my eyes. “I didn’t make up what I said on the jetty. I’m not going anywhere, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

As if under a spell, I could only stare in wonder at this beautiful creature. The light from the window reflected off her sleek ebony hair and flitted across her alabaster skin. The only sound was my uneven breath as I fought to control my desire.

“This is the part where you kiss me,” she said.

Without hesitation I obliged.

Though I turn, I fly not—

I cannot depart;

I would try, but try not

To release my heart

And my hopes are dying

While, on dreams relying,

I am spelled by art.

—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “To Miss Louise Olivia Hunter,” 1847

T
o my surprise, Francine didn’t push or interrogate me when I finally arrived at the store that afternoon. She did, however, linger nearby pretending to be busy, undoubt. Frantedly with the hope I would volunteer information.

“The supply boat’s not coming today after all,” Francine said, putting the phone headset back in the cradle. “There’s been foul weather on the mainland coast.”

I squeezed the water out of the mop and moved to the section of floor closest to the cash register.

“That means we need to transfer the lobsters from the holding crates to the underwater pen.” Francine sighed. “I was hoping it would be a lazy day so we could visit over some tea.”

Her blatant nudge made me smile. I rinsed the mop and put it in the wringer attached to the inside of the bucket.

“I certainly hope the storm doesn’t come this way and ruin the Bealtaine celebration tonight,” she said.

I had lashed an extra two feet of dowel to the mop so that I could tuck it under my armpit for leverage and guide it with my hand and forearm, which made it easier, but it was still difficult for me. Balancing the mop handle on my shoulder, I pushed down on the wringer handle and gray water cascaded into the bucket.

Francine shuffled to the area I’d just mopped. “You
are
going to the celebration, right?”

I straightened and pulled the mop out. “I suppose.”

“Well, you need to take the Leighton girl so you can ask for a blessing on your union.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Union?” I turned my back to her and ran the mop down the floor under the counter.

Francine blocked my progress. “Okay, Liam. Union, relationship, or whatever you two are doing, you can ask the Otherworlders to bless it.”

“Whatever we are doing
is
blessed. We don’t need Otherworlders to make it so.”

I swiveled and pushed the mop in the other direction. Francine stomped around me and stepped on the soggy cords. “Best you do all you can to make good with them.”

“Make good with them? There is nothing
good
in it. My entire life has been misery because of them, or rather because of the villagers’ belief in them.” I sloshed the mop into the water, surprised at my level of resentment. Ordinarily, I tempered my thoughts and feelings about Dòchas and my place in it because fighting it was as futile as attempting to stop the incoming tide. At this moment, though, nothing was tempered. I practically boiled with indignation. All my life I’d been pushed down, denied, and shunned because of things over which I had no control. Seeing the Cailleach had brought all the unfairness of my life home to me. Perhaps Anna was right and it was all “bogus.” I dumped the mop back in the wringer. “I’ll never ask them for anything. Ever.”

Francine pulled the mop handle from my hand and let it fall to the floor. “Liam, lad.” She took me by the shoulders. “Listen to me.” She gave my shoulders a slight shake. “Do not anger them. You need them on your side.”

“No one is on my side!” I shouted. “No one but you and Anna. Don’t you see? Everything works against me, especially the Otherworlders. They scream at me at night. They taunt me from the sea. My own people want to kill me because of the things they do. Yet, you want me to ask them for a blessing on the only thing that has ever been right in my entire pathetic existence?”

Hands still gripping my shoulders, she stared into my eyes for what felt like an eternity. “Yes, I do.”

Out si">< of breath from my rant, I leaned against the counter, and something that sounded much like a whimper issued from my throat. I closed my eyes and gathered my composure. Francine was far older and wiser. She knew much more about the Otherworlders than I. What harm could it do?

“We’ll set candles on the water and ask for their blessing,” I whispered.

She patted my cheek. “That’s a smart lad.”

* * *

A sense of dread had been niggling at Muireann since before sunup. Perhaps it was because of the death of the human yesterday. Maybe it was because she knew the Na Fir Ghorm would derive power from the human worship tonight. Whatever the reason, she didn’t share her pod’s enthusiasm for the activities onshore.

“Will you look at that!” her sister, Keela, said. “The bonfire will be even bigger than last year!”

All day, the villagers had been combing the island for fallen wood to make the Bealtaine fires. They did this at the turn of the season every year.

Muireann swam from behind the harbor buoy to get a closer look. She had seen her human walking on the cliff-side trail several hours ago on his way from the big dwelling at the high point of the island. He had not stopped at his home, but he wasn’t helping with the bonfire preparation. She slipped behind a moored boat and peeked around the bow.

“Looking for someone?” her sister said, nudging her shoulder.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“You’re so jumpy. What’s wrong?”

Muireann slipped under the surface and glided into the shadows under the dock. She knew Keela would follow, but it gave her time to come up with an answer that would suit.

The Na Fir Ghorm were an everyday part of life for her pod. In the old country, they didn’t interact much, as the Na Fir Ghorm stayed in caves deeper out in the sea and inhabited the straits and more remote areas. Here, they lived close in to shore among the Selkies.

Until now, the Na Fir Ghorm were not an issue for Muireann because they didn’t affect her directly. She’d never had trouble adopting the Selkies’ “live and let live” attitude. Her feelings for her human had changed everything. She could no longer remain impassive as they took human lives for their entertainment and enrichment.

There he was! Her human was dropping lobsters from plastic boxes into a wire pen in the water at the end of the pier. Her pulse quickened at the mere sight of him.

“He’s quite beautiful,” Keela said. “Too beautiful, really.”

Yes, too beautiful,
Muireann thought. This was the closest she’d ever been to him.

“He makes you want to change, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” Muireann whispered.

“Listen to me, little sister,” Keela said. “Father says human males are good for nothing but pain. They steal your heart, then they steal your pelt, leaving you in human form to die an early, miserable death, never to see your family again.”

Muireann couldn’t imagine her human being cruel. She’d heard the stories of humans hiding or stealing their Selkie lovers’ pelts in order to keep them in human form. “He’s not like that.”

Keela gave a loud snort and duckenoreir Selkied under the surface.

Her human looked over his shoulder straight into her eyes, and she melted inside.

“Hello, there,” he said.

He was talking to her! She was too stunned to even move. She kept her head above water—a huge no-no when this close to a human—and simply stared back. His eyes were deep brown and rimmed with thick, black lashes. If only . . .

He leaned down to get a better look under the dock where she hid. Everything in her told her to flee, but she could not. She was frozen, mesmerized by his beauty.

“How’s it going out here?” a middle-aged woman with graying red hair asked him.

He placed a finger to his lips. The woman nodded and joined him. “Ah. A Selkie girl,” she said. Muireann knew she should swim away as fast as possible but could not budge.

“Do not encourage her, Liam. She’ll only bring you trouble.”

Liam!
His name was Liam. Muireann rejoiced at this bit of information. Her human had a name as beautiful as his face. It was worth the danger of being this close just to know his name.
Liam,
she said over and over in her head.
My Liam.

“It’s just a harbor seal, Francine. It’s probably here because of the lobsters,” he said.

The woman narrowed her eyes and studied Muireann, who winced. “No. Definitely a Selkie. Be careful. There will be many here tonight. Bealtaine was when I . . .” The woman got a faraway look on her face. “Never mind. That was long ago. Are you almost finished here?”

He nodded. “One crate left.”

“When you’re done, come on inside. I have a gift for you. I was going to give it to you for your birthday next month but changed my mind.” After shooting Muireann one last curious look, the woman wandered back to the shop.

“Selkie,” he muttered under his breath as he pitched a lobster into the underwater pen.

Muireann swam out of the shadows, closer to the end of the pier—closer to her Liam.

“Well, look at you,” he said. “Aren’t you pretty?”

She felt as though her heart would burst. Her Liam found her pretty.

“Do you want one of these?” he asked, holding up a lobster with bright blue bands on its claws.

She shook her head. His eyes widened and he dropped the lobster on the pier, then scrambled to catch it before it skittered off into the water. He tossed it into the bin, followed by two others from the plastic crate before returning his attention to her.

Cross-legged, he sat on the end of the pier and stared at her. She stared right back. “It’s almost like you can understand me.”

“Liam!” the woman called from the back door to the store. “You need to get moving if you are going to the celebration. You can’t go smelling like a lobster.”

Yes, he can,
Muireann thought.
He smells perfect. He is perfect.

“I guess I’ll see you tonight, then, little seal,” he said. He lay on his belly to close and latch the wire lid
to the top of the underwater bin, which was wise; her brothers and sisters would clean that out in seconds tonight if given the opportunity.

He glanced over his shoulder at her befoer ed to get re disappearing into the store.

She would find a way to protect him, she vowed. She would keep her Liam safe even if it meant shedding her pelt. Her heart hammered at the thought of meeting him in his own form. Of wrapping her human limbs around him as his female companion had done on the beach that day.

Her sister must never know. Her pod must never know. She understood she could never keep him, but she could protect him from the Na Fir Ghorm, and at that thought, her heart soared.