Under His Skin (15 page)

Guilt added another thick layer of pain over her sensitive mind. She hated the person she’d become. She hated the fact that she inflicted the same pain that tortured her onto others out of the desperate hope that it would lessen her own suffering. Not a day went by that she didn’t think about returning the skins, only to feel that sharp spike of fear as a tiny voice in her head screamed she might be giving up the piece of the puzzle she needed. What if she found a new spell, one that would make the skin work? What if the spell only worked on a bear skin or a wolf skin? What if by returning the skins, she was giving up any chance to ever escape the bondage of human flesh?

Unfortunately, the little voice had stiffer competition these days. Brec’s tireless pursuit of the skins made it impossible to ignore her guilt. It weighed down on her until she was sure she’d suffocate. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes.
I just need a little more time.
If he would just go away long enough for me to hide my skin, or try that last spell.

The sounds of men shouting outside her window jerked Ana from her thoughts. Brec’s hands dropped from her shoulders as he stepped closer to the bedroom window, staring out at a dark shape crossing over the snow toward Ana’s cabin. Ana narrowed her eyes as she moved to stand beside him, confusion momentarily distracting her from her inner turmoil.

A modest-sized fishing boat floated on the water at the end of the long wooden dock that extended out from the shore in front of her cabin. Two men were stumbling down the ramp, carrying a large bundle between them. As they got closer, Ana’s eyes widened. The bundle looked human. And the cloth wrapped around it was red.

Brec was already running out of the bedroom. Adrenaline washed through Ana’s blood as she rushed after him, their conversation all but forgotten in her panic. Ana never got visitors. When she got to the bottom of the stairs and saw Brec jerking the door open, she threw up a hand.

“Wait! I don’t know those men, how do we know why they’re here?”

“They’re carrying a bleeding man between them,” Brec said grimly. He didn’t look at her as he waved the men in. “They came to see me.”

“How would they even know you’re here?” Ana protested, wringing her hands. For the past two years, she hadn’t let a soul into her home. Secrecy was paramount to a thief whose victims would kill to get back what had been stolen from them. The thought of more strangers tromping through her cabin tightened her nerves until her skin itched.

“I told you, I’m the best healer my people have seen in centuries,” Brec said calmly. He kept his eyes on the approaching men. “Injured people always find me.”

Ana stared at him.
She’d been to some of the best healers in the world, but none of them had ever been able to help her. Still, Brec spoke with such . . . confidence.
Almost arrogance.
Maybe
. . .

Her eyes widened and her train of thought leapt off its tracks as the men lumbered into her cabin and she got her first close look at Brec’s patient. He was a large man. Even crumpled as he was in the makeshift sling the men carried, she could tell he was at least six feet tall. She couldn’t tell much beyond his size because of the sheet—and the massive amount of blood coating the towel pressed on top of his head and coating his face.

“Bring him in here,” Brec said, gesturing to the dining room table.

The men grunted as they heaved their load as gently as they could onto the hard wooden surface. Their eyes marked them as Asian, though the rest of their bodies were nearly covered with thick navy blue winter coats and snug black cotton caps. Bright orange pants contrasted with the rest of their dark clothing. The plastic garments, along with a distinctly fishy smell, made it clear they had been fishing when whatever disaster that had injured their friend had happened. They stepped back from the table, staring at Brec with wide eyes.

“He wouldn’t let us take him to a hospital,” one of them said, his voice hushed with dismay. “He said we had to bring him to his
ixht
’
or he would die.” He shook his head, his eyes still too wide. “What is an
ixht
’
?”

“I’m a healer,” Brec said briskly, his attention on his patient. “What’s his name?”

“We don’t know,” the other man spoke up, his gaze darting from Brec to the injured man. “We were out fishing in
Chikloot
Inlet and we found him naked and bleeding in the water.” He stared at the bloody man as Brec peeled the towel away. “I can’t believe he didn’t freeze to death. There weren’t any boats around or anything, he must have been in the water for hours.” He shivered and shook his head. “It’s just not possible.”

“Ana, can you get me some water and clean cloths?”

Ana nodded and darted over to the sink.
Her mind raced as she opened drawers and pulled out clean dishcloths before reaching over her head to remove a large plastic bowl from the cupboard.
So many people in my house.
Too close to my skin, they have to leave.

The image of the man on the table hovered in her mind. Slowly, her panicked thoughts of her hidden skin began to ebb. There was so much blood. The copper scent of it was everywhere, making her heart speed up as something primal inside her reacted to the scent. The man on her table was dying. The scent of blood didn’t grow that strong from a mere trickle.

An emotion rose up inside her, pushing aside her fear and panic. This was her chance. She’d studied healing for years. She could do some good here, could help Brec save this man. Perhaps she could lighten the karmic load she’d leveled against her spirit with her selfish thefts. She could do something now that she’d feel good about later. Something that would make her
feel
less . . . evil.

Filled with determination, she set the bowl of water and
clean
cloths on the table and immediately dashed down to her healing circle. Her mind strained to remember all the texts she’d pored over in the last two years, calling to mind any herbs she had that might be of help. Brec likely already knew what she had and would send her for the appropriate ones once he knew what he needed anyway, but somehow it felt very important that she bring them up on her own. This was her chance to prove she wasn’t the completely horrible person he thought she was. Who knew, maybe if she could show him her better side, he might trust her enough to give her the privacy she needed.

She glanced at the basement door. Brec was distracted. Maybe she would have time . . .

No. Too many people here, if anyone came downstairs, they would see my hiding spot. They would find my skin.

Fear threatened to overwhelm her as the hot flames of the past roared in her face. She shook off the thought of going to the basement and turned back to her circle.

Lemon balm will help staunch the flow of blood, chamomile will help disinfect the wound,
lavender
will help calm him . . . Don’t forget the mortar and pestle . . .

As she mentally flipped though her various herbs and their uses, she stopped off at the closet to retrieve some bandages as well. She didn’t have much, but there was a roll or two of gauze. It was better than a couple of towels.

“Here,” she said as she came back up the stairs. “These might help.”

Brec glanced over at her, shifting so she got a look at the freshly cleaned wound. Ana’s stomach rolled and her steps faltered. The gash in the man’s head went from the top of his forehead all the way to the end of his scalp in a straight angry red line. She could see soft grey tissue underneath.

Oh shit, I can see his brain.

“Don’t look at it if you’re going to be sick,” Brec said gently, but firmly. He took the herbs from her drooping arms. “Thank you for these, they’ll be a great help.”

“I’m not going to be sick,” Ana corrected him, straightening her spine. She fought back the brief wave of nausea, determined to show a brave face to the healer. “I’m just horrified.”

It was true. She couldn’t imagine what had made that wound. She didn’t see any bone shards sticking in the soft tissue, so blunt force didn’t seem to be likely. He was found in the
water,
maybe something had . . . bitten him? Something that had taken the missing pieces of his skull with it, as opposed to leaving them embedded in his head?

Tearing her eyes away from the wound and the nightmarish pictures it conjured up, she looked at the man’s face. Without all the blood, she could see a proud aquiline nose and high cheekbones. His black lashes swept out from his eyes, closed in blessed unconsciousness. Her heart ached with empathy for what the man must have gone through and she furiously wracked her brain for herbs that would ease that kind of pain.
Perhaps a strong sedative . . .

Brec lifted the man’s body, checking his back for any other injuries. Suddenly he froze. Easing the man’s body down again,
he
jerked his gaze up to the two fishermen.

“I’ll take it from
here,
go on back to your families.”

“
No
.”

Ana gave a surprised shriek as the man’s eyes shot open. His hoarse voice, filled with insistence, seemed to echo in the shocked silence of the room. Only Brec seemed unsurprised by his outburst, glaring down at the injured man with more ire than Ana had seen since he showed up to find her underneath his skin. She stared at him in shock. What on earth could make him look at the wounded man before him with such hatred?

The patient stared at the two fishermen standing before him, their wide eyes locked on his now conscious face. His eyes were so dark, almost like Brec’s. Unlike Brec’s black irises though, this man’s eyes looked empty, almost as if they were holes instead of orbs. Something about them sent a chill down Ana’s spine even as she
stared,
transfixed.

“Don’t go,” he wheezed, his hand twitching as if he was trying to raise it. “I . . . want to thank you . . . properly. Please . . . please—”

“You have an open wound, we need to clear out anyone who isn’t necessary,” Brec said firmly. “Infection is the number one threat to you right now.” He pointed to the door and stared hard at the two fishermen. “Please go.”

Ana raised her eyebrows as the two men turned to leave. Brec was right of course, infection was a serious concern with an open head wound like that. However, despite the logic of his words, she couldn’t help but wonder what had put that look of anger on the selkie healer’s face.

Brec held his breath as the two fishermen closed the door behind them. He stared at his patient’s body, searching for some twitch, some movement—anything that he could interpret as an attempt to go after them. Of course the man made no such attempt. With the injury he’d suffered, it was a miracle he had even been able to speak. Brec gritted his teeth.
Just give me a reason to hurt you.

“Why did you send . . . them away?” the man hissed, glaring up at Brec. He remained relaxed, as if he’d lost too much blood for his body to properly show his anger. “You . . . know what they did to . . . me.”

“I’m not going to keep them here so you can kill them,” Brec snapped.

“Brec!”

Ana’s shocked voice drew Brec’s attention. He raised his gaze to see her staring at him as though he’d grown a second head.

“What?”

Ana shook her head. “The man’s missing a good piece of his skull—his brain’s showing for pity’s sake. Doesn’t it seem a little strange to stand there and accuse him of plotting murder?”

Brec stared down at the man on the table before him. His eyes had drifted closed again as he lost the battle for consciousness. A burning hatred erupted up from the depths of Brec’s being. “Not when the man in question is a
toos
.”

Snatching up a roll of the gauze Ana had set down on the table, Brec measured out a strip long enough to cover the wound and ripped it off. Slamming it down on the table, he looked over the herbs she’d brought up.
Lemon balm, chamomile, lavender . . .

“What’s a
toos
?”

Brec jerked his head up at Ana’s question, but then sighed and shook his head. Of course she wouldn’t know what a
toos
was. People didn’t talk of them like they talked of the selkies.
Probably because anyone unfortunate enough to meet a
toos
is eaten.