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"Don't, my lord." Her chin was suddenly quite resolute, her eyes flashing at him. "It has always been my choice. You compelled me to do nothing." A teasing smile tugged at her mouth. "You didn't even want to come, remember? I've had to haul you grumbling the whole way."
"You are a constant thorn in my side," he said with a lightness he didn't feel. "I only went to spare myself the nagging until my wing healed and I could fly away from your shrewishness. Anna--"
"I thought as much." She nodded. Then she pushed off and went coasting down the next hill before he could argue with her further.
As he followed, he thought of what she'd said about dancing, swimming, flying--how finding a balance for each of them was the same. Maybe she'd meant something more than that, that the source of balance was the same, physically or emotionally. He wished and wondered if it could be as easy to find his own center, so he could make her suffering worth this. He needed to send her home.
Free will. There was one of the more ridiculous codes of the Lady. But he still had a hard time shaking it, even as everything inside him was starting to shout that it was time to override Anna's wishes and put her well-being first. She thought she was fated to die at twenty-one. He sure as Hades didn't want to be the next link in the curse, any more than she wanted to die without purpose, as her mother had. Damn it.
As the sun rose higher, they were able to balance the increasing heat with the occasional breeze from a downhill slope. The bicycle did make it easier, for there were flat rocky areas they were able to traverse, after Jonah got the hang of riding. Even so, Anna was more confident and practiced, and should have been able to stay ahead of him. Instead, she kept dropping back, until he was slowing to ensure he didn't lose her on the rise of a hill. He also took frequent breaks, until it was late afternoon and they'd only covered about eight miles.
Jonah tried not to outdistance her too much, but he found pleasure in taking the hills downward at a good speed, feeling the wind through his hair, against his face, watching the sun descend. When he got to the bottom of one and estimated their distance at five more miles--if Randall was right and the Schism was cooperative--he turned, waiting for Anna to crest the hill to give her the good news.
He anticipated her coming down, her hair streaming, face lifted to the blessed touch of the wind, blowing the thin T-shirt flat against her soft but firm breasts, the hint of nipples. It made him think of the night before, in the cellar, her body lifting to his. He hadn't had that pleasure last night because of their time with Randall, which was fine, because Anna had gotten to rest in a cool place, but he felt his loins tighten now with the anticipation of the evening.
She still hadn't crested the hill.
He waited thirty seconds before he was off the bike and running up the slope, reaching the crest to find her bicycle on its side, probably no more than a couple of pedal strokes from making the top. Her body was crumpled on the ground next to it.
"Anna." He skidded onto his knees beside her and lifted her upper body. He pulled off the hat and discovered her pallor was gray, her lips bleeding. Her violet eyes were glassy, almost pale, as if the color was leeching away with her life force.
"Keep going, my lord," she rasped. "You're almost there."
"You know far less of me than you think you do, if you think I would leave you here to die."
She shook her head, coughed, and he saw blood fleck her saliva. "I'm going to die anyway, my lord. This is important . . . and you have to go. They're coming. We've somehow . . . I'm sorry my lord, but I think we were on the fault line, but now we're not. It was protecting us somehow, and now we've strayed off. The directions Mina gave me . . . They're coming. I can't feel where it is anymore. You need to keep moving."
He lifted her in his arms and jogged back down the hill, to the bottom of the slope where there were several clusters of rock, a formation of fluted erosion that provided some shade.
"There's a road, there. Look."
He saw the faint impression of one winding away to the west and nodded. "Another track for the people who live out in this wasteland, I'm sure."
"You have to go on, Jonah," she insisted. "That's it. Take that road a few more miles, and you'll be there."
"Anna. Tell me the full truth. This is more than what you're telling me."
"The sea," she said wearily. "I can't get too far from the sea. But I thought, with the water and shells, I'd make it further than three days, no matter what Mina said. I had to get you here. That was most important."
"Like hell." Easing her down to the sand, he rummaged quickly through her pack. One third of the seawater left, her bag of sand and shells. "Can you use this, no matter what form you're in?"
"Yes, the mermaid is the core of me . . ."
"Stop talking. You answered the question." He stood, scanned the scattering of rocks around them. There. A rock about four feet tall and three feet across, which had a concave top likely accomplished over the years by dew dropped from the spines of the yucca overshadowing it. "Anna, can you shift? To the pixie?"
When she blinked, he recognized the disorienting effect of dehydration. He cursed himself for being an idiot, for relying on his powers of intuition instead of his own damned eyes. "Anna. Shift. To a fairy. Right now." And God help him if she misunderstood and shifted to a mermaid.
"But it'll take me . . . long time to turn back. Not strong."
"It's okay." He gentled his tone, touched her face, felt something twist hard in his heart at the immediate gratification in her face, her pleasure at his spontaneous touch. Why didn't he do it more often, all the time, so that she'd know how much he thought of her?
"Want you to touch me. Be inside me before you go. Can't if change."
"Anna." He crouched, took her shoulders, and gave her a look that would have made even one of his most battle-hardened captains piss himself. "Do it now."
Giving him a grumpy but fairly vacant look, her body shuddered, rippled. The lights started gathering over her, but they were weak, faint. Almost transparent.
"It hurts." It tore him apart to hear her cry out, his always stoic little mermaid. He wanted to hold her, touch her, but of course he couldn't while she was shi
fting. Despite himself, he thought of what Luc had said. Will she be your concern, when she is dead?
Then it was complete, and she was sprawled at the base of the rock, so disconcertingly like a dead butterfly, her wilted wings covering her shoulders.
Lifting her gently to the surface of the rock, he removed the remainder of the seawater and pulled out the shallow bowl she'd been using. Pouring the water into it carefully, he tried not to spill any in his haste. Then the shells, arranged on the side, a bit of the sand thrown into the basin. He propped the pack up where it would shade the whole area. At the smell of the seawater, she'd started to move painstakingly toward the pond he'd created, but he gently nudged her onto his hand with a finger and lifted her, lowering her into the water. She hooked her arms onto his forefinger to hold on, so he was able to watch her expression ease as the salt apparently penetrated through the outer physical form of the fairy and found the waiting mermaid soul within. With his other hand, he gently stirred the water so it lapped upon her in a credible imitation of the ocean.
He shook his head. "We'll travel after nightfall."
"But Mina said not to travel at night. To get under cover."
"Stop arguing with me." Sliding a thumb gently beneath her face as well, he frowned as she leaned her head against it. "You're so determined to follow everything that witch says, except when it applies to yourself."
"If anything should happen to me--"
"Nothing is going to happen to you. Perhaps this shaman can help. If he can't, or if we don't find this place tonight, I'll summon David and he'll have you back to the sea and your cottage in ten minutes."
"Like a supersonic jet," she murmured. His lips twitched, but he nodded.
"Faster, I'll warrant. I should summon him now." He put a finger on her mouth, part of it on her throat, since the pad of his finger could almost cover her face. "But I won't. Don't distress yourself. I understand how important this is to you, Anna."
But not to you, Anna thought, trying to ignore the sinking of her heart. All the times she had seen passion in him, it had always been on her behalf. He was very angry with her now, but because she'd risked herself. Protecting her, lying with her, arousing her, all those motivated his desire, but he had none for himself. For life.
