The Selkie Enchantress (27 page)

He could yell. But what if no one heard him? The lines in the harbor sang as whispers of wind shivered over the quiet waters. His muddy shoes slipped on the wet pier as she led him onto the planks. The boats rocked, rubbing against each other.

When he saw what waited for him at the end of the long stilted pier he started to tremble. A woman stood in a narrow wooden boat, her face shadowed by a red hooded cloak. A single oar lay across the hull, and a small dark bundle was folded on the seat.

“This is only temporary,” Nuala said as she pushed Owen toward the woman. “I will reclaim him before the end of the night.”

The woman smiled and extended her hand to Owen. Her fingers winked with glittering amber jewels. A strange black bracelet twisted around her arm and when her cloak shifted, it hissed like a snake. He shrank back from her when those green-gold eyes lifted, locking on his. “It’s nice to see you again, Owen.”

Owen scrambled back, his shoes slipping on the wet surface. “I-I don’t know you.”

“Oh, but
I
know
you
.” The woman swept the hood back from her face. Her red-gold hair tumbled down over her shoulders, streaming down to her waist.

Owen’s fingers scraped over the wind-weathered wood, struggling to back away from this woman as his mother pushed him toward her. “Who are you? How do you know me?”

“My dear,” she said. “I helped bring you into this world.”

Owen’s heart pounded. A high-pitched ringing sounded in his ears. He looked up at his mother. “What does that mean?” He gripped the ends of her white cloak, clinging to her. “What does she mean?”

“You mean, she hasn’t told you?” The woman asked, the joy in her voice crackling over the water. Nuala pried Owen’s fingers off her cloak, and lifted him off the pier, settling him into the boat. He felt a tingling, a strange warmth spreading into his skin. The boat shifted, rocking in the water as the woman smiled and patted the seat beside the dark bundle. “Why don’t you slip this on.” Her eyes gleamed as she dipped the long oar into the water and pushed them away from the dock. “Go on,” she urged when Owen’s fingers brushed the oily seal-skin. “I’m sure it’ll fit.”

Glenna plucked the silver rattle from Caitlin’s hand. She heard the soft ringing like bells through the wind. The rain had thinned to barely more than a mist, but the silence felt somehow more sinister than the relentless drumming rain. Especially now that she’d seen the token tucked into this hidden box—a token that was never meant for Caitlin.

It was meant for her.

But how? Her gaze swept over the fields, shrouded now in a thick blanket of gray. How could Moira have known ten years ago that Glenna would come to this island? How could she have known that she and Caitlin would become such close friends?

“The chest,” Glenna asked, her voice strained. “Who gave it to you?”

“My aunt,” Caitlin answered as Liam helped her to her feet. “Or… maybe it was the midwife? I… I don’t remember. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. I just remember they… took care of things. It was already done by the time I woke up.”

“Have you ever looked inside it?”

“No.” Caitlin shook her head, rubbing her muddy palms over the front of her soaking jeans. “But it was supposed to be filled with his ashes.”

Glenna’s gaze flickered up again, sweeping over the maze of stone walls, the knotted patchwork of pastures stretching south to the village. Sam’s hand caught her elbow. He leaned down, his voice a whisper in her ear. “Who are you looking for?”

She pushed him away, stepping out of the cottage. The air was thick and full of moisture. Secret warnings shuddered over the bogs. “This midwife,” she said quickly, walking over to Caitlin. “What did she look like?”

Liam narrowed his eyes. “What does it matter?”

“It matters!” Glenna snapped.

Liam’s arm curved around Caitlin protectively, and Glenna took a deep breath. She could feel Sam’s eyes on her. Could sense him watching her. She needed to keep calm, not draw any of them into this. They only needed to know what was absolutely necessary. She would deal with the rest.

“It’s okay,” Caitlin murmured to Liam. She glanced back up at Glenna. “She was young. She couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. She had long strawberry blond hair, but she usually wore it tied back in a bun. She had green eyes, I think.” She nodded, remembering. “Yes. They were an odd color green, with flecks of gold in them. They used to change colors in certain lights.”

Glenna looked north toward the bogs, searching for signs of smoke in the night. She breathed in the wet air, trying to catch a whiff of it, but all she could smell was the salt from the ocean and the faint perfume of the fallen rose drifting up between them. “And your aunt?” She bent down, picking up the cold, stiff flower. “Where is she now?”

“She passed away. Some kind of accident. I should have kept in touch…” Caitlin shook her head. “But I didn’t.”

Glenna rolled the icy stem around in her fingertips. “So the only two people who ever saw this child…”—Glenna lifted her eyes to Caitlin’s—“…are your aunt and this midwife?”

Caitlin nodded slowly and Glenna watched the subtle shift deep in her friend’s eyes.

Liam’s arms tightened around Caitlin. “What are you trying to say?”

“Liam.” Tara laid a hand on her brother-in-law’s arm. “Sam has a theory that I think you should hear.”

Liam’s jaw clenched as Sam stepped out of the doorway. He didn’t like Sam any more than Dominic did. “What?”

Sam’s gaze shifted to Glenna, then down to Caitlin, then back up to Liam. “Have you ever heard of a changeling?”

“Of course, I’ve…” Liam stiffened. “Why?”

The box fell from Caitlin’s hands. It splashed into the puddle of rainwater at her feet. She pulled out of Liam’s arms, shaking her head, her eyes wide. “No.”

“What if your child didn’t die?” Tara breathed. “What if he was taken?”

Caitlin’s panicked gaze fell to the silver baby’s rattle—a rattle in the shape of a seal. “Owen.”

“Owen?” Liam grabbed her, spinning her around to face him. “What about Owen?”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Caitlin cried. She screamed his name into the night. “Owen!”

His name echoed over the bogs, shivered over the stone walls. Liam grabbed her hand. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “We have to find him!”

“Then we will,” Liam breathed. “Come on!” They broke into a run, heading for the village. Their feet pounded over the fields, splashing through the puddles.

Sam started after them, but he stopped short when he realized Glenna and Tara weren’t following him. He turned, shielding his eyes from the mist. “What are you waiting for? If we split up, we can find him faster!”

But Glenna shook her head. She reached behind her, fumbling for the wall of the cottage. The rose tumbled back to the saturated earth and another petal snapped off. A river of rainwater swallowed it, sucking it under.

“Glenna!” Sam raced to her side. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?

Glenna shook her head. She had failed them. She had missed all the signs. She knew now that Owen was only a pawn. That all Nuala had ever wanted was Liam. And all Moira had ever wanted was her. She stared at the silver rattle in her lap. The one
she
had played with as a child.

Sam grabbed her shoulders in both of his hands, shaking her. “What do you know? What are you still hiding?”

A curl of smoke rose from the water, drifting into the cold, gray haze. It smelled of sulfur, of fires sparking to life deep underground. A yellow fog rolled in over the bogs. “It’s too late,” she whispered. “Owen’s already gone.”

***

Dominic knocked on Nuala’s door. Drops of water leaked from the saturated thatch into the dark streets. Kelsey pressed her face to the window but there was a layer of moisture creeping up the glass and she could barely make out a blurry outline of furniture.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s in there,” she whispered.

Dominic knocked again and Kelsey flinched when the curtain stirred, a ripple of white lace through the frosted glass. She jumped back from the window when she heard the faint click of heels on pavement. Her gaze darted up to her father and Dominic squeezed her hand, placing a finger on his lips for silence as he pulled her behind him. The clicks got louder, the steps echoing through the empty streets and coming from the direction of the harbor. Nuala rounded the corner of the cottage and stopped short.

“Out for an evening walk?” Dominic asked casually.

Nuala’s face was tight as she measured them up, like she was deciding what to do with them. Kelsey huddled behind her father, staring at the mist clinging to Nuala’s white cloak. “I thought I left something down at the docks earlier,” Nuala answered. “I was wrong.”

“Where’s Owen?”

“He’s inside sleeping.”

“After all the activity tonight?” Dominic lifted an eyebrow as she brushed past them and slid her key into the latch. “I’m surprised he could fall asleep so easily and not hear the door.”

She turned, not bothering to open it. “Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?”

“I thought we could talk,” Dominic suggested. “About what happened.”

“I told you.” She looked pointedly down at Kelsey. “I don’t want Owen near your daughter.”

“But they must have had a reason for sneaking out tonight,” Dominic argued. “Don’t you even know what it is?”

“No. I don’t.”

“You don’t even want to know what they were trying to dig up?” Dominic pressed. “We could at least have a discussion about it so we know how to prevent it from happening in the future.”

“It’s not going to happen again, Mr. O’Sullivan. Because Owen and I will be leaving this island on the first ferry out tomorrow morning.” She turned, grasping the knob and pushing the door open. Stalking into the dark cottage, she turned back to face them, blocking the small opening so Kelsey couldn’t see into the room. “You can discuss this matter with your own daughter as much as you want.”

Kelsey flinched as she slammed the door in their face. Dominic’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his fist to pound on it again, but tugged him away from the door. “Come on,” she whispered, waving for him to follow her around the back of the cottage. She let go of his hand as they rounded the back corner, clambering over the hedge of rosemary bushes and pushed up on her toes, cupping her hands around her eyes to see inside Owen’s bedroom window. “He’s not in there.”

“Are you sure?” Dominic whispered, crouching down beside her.

“I’m sure,” she said, climbing back over the thick winter stalks.

“Where do you think he’d be?”

“I don’t know.” Kelsey glanced over her father’s shoulder at the shadow of boats in the harbor below. “He might have snuck out again. He could have gone anywhere.”

“Then we’ll start looking.” Dominic said, pushing to his feet. “Nuala’s footsteps came from the docks.” He grabbed her hand and they ran down the muddy path to the harbor. The boats rocked restlessly against the pilings as they came to the edge of the pier. They spotted the two sets of footprints leading out onto the planks. “Look.” Kelsey pointed to the faint marks in the wood. “She must have brought him here.”

They followed the prints to the end of the pier, where one set disappeared and the other turned around—the larger set—leading back to the island. “We’re too late,” Kelsey breathed.

“No,” Dominic’s gaze combed the deserted harbor, but only a shiver of breeze danced over the surface. “That’s not possible.” He twisted, counting the boats tied to the pilings, trying to see if one was missing. “What if he took one of the rowboats? What if…?”

A dark head eased out of the quiet waters. “Dad! Look!” Rings teased over the surface as a handful of sleek black heads edged out of the sea. “Look how many of them there are!” More seals swam up to the surface, bobbing their heads in the dark waters, watching them.

Dominic stared at the circle of seals, at their pleading eyes. “We need to find Tara.”

Kelsey lowered to her knees. Holding onto one of the pilings, she stretched her arm out over the water trying to touch one of them. But just as her fingertips brushed a velvety nose, a low cry, like a howl, tore over the harbor and she shrank back from the edge. The seals dove, splashing back under the water, their fins propelling them toward the beach.

“What’s happening?” Kelsey whispered.

The wind kicked up and more seals slipped into the water from the rocks by the cliffs. Metal rings clanged against the splintered mast of a sailboat moored in the harbor. More seals edged out of the caves along that sheltered stretch of white sand. They lifted their heads to the rain, barking frantically as the first notes of the siren’s song drifted into the night.

Liam threw open the door to Nuala’s cottage. “Owen!” A cold draft swirled into the living room. The white curtains danced through the empty darkness like ghosts in the wind.

“Owen!” Caitlin wailed, running to his bedroom and grasping the handle of the door. She twisted it, but it jammed. She cursed, pounding on the door. “It’s locked!”