Page 28 of Saved By the Selkie

It makes me sick, how much like Johan I’ve been to this point. I was selfish, short-sighted, even cruel. I was dreaming of fame and fortune, how rich I’d be if only I could take Lir back to New York and show him off to my patron.

Vain. Stupid. Selfish.I berate myself to keep the rhythm of my rowing, even with the ache in my arms. I wasn’t thinking about Lir at all, just what he could do for me.

I’m horrible, I realize. I think of all the times he asked me for his pelt and I said no. How much he must have been longing to swim, to have the water rush through his fur.

Poor Lir. I’m surprised he didn’t steal his pelt and leave sooner. I don’t blame him for leaving, and I won’t blame him if he never wants to see me ever again.

I make a vow then and there—if we do find Lir, I’m not gonna make him do anything. He’s free. I’ll fight Johan to keep him free. I’ll kill Johan if I have to, and then …

I’ll let Lir go.

It’ll be tough, I realize. Johan’s not injured, and he’s got a gun and a sword. Me, I’ve got nothing but my teeth and my own two hands, plus a bum arm and a concussion. I’ll be an easy target for Johan, but maybe I can buy Lir enough time to slip off, to get far away from humans and the dangers we present.

If we find him, of course.

And I hope, for his sake, we don’t.

sixteen

Lir

I

’m exhausted. I don’t know exactly how far I’ve swum, but it’s been days, maybe even weeks. The going has been slow; the inlets and coves along the way are almost all iced over, and the ice is getting thicker, growing outward into the sea like skeletal fingers. The water itself is rougher and colder, as though the very ocean is trying to tell me to turn back.

To go back to my mate.

But Aramis is dead, I remind myself furiously, hating the way tears prick at my eyes. And I don’t know what Johan will do to me if he gets his hands on me. The whole crew knows I’m a selkie now. Will they kill me? Eat me? Capture me? Torture me?

I have no idea, and that scares me.

I’m also scared about my pup—Aramis’s pup, our pup. I can’t swim very far or very fast, because I need to spend time hunting and foraging. It won’t be long before I need to haul out on the ice and nurse the pup.

I wish I’d realized I’d been pupped sooner. I wish I’d told Aramis.

I surface from another long dive, cracking open the crab I’d pulled up from the sandy ocean floor and tearing into it with my teeth. Food is scarcer in these colder waters, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen to the pup or myself. I’m doing what I can, but I’m caught in a terrible bind. I need to swim as far away from Johan and the ship and the humans as possible, but the more I swim, the more energy I use. The more energy I use, the more I have to consume to ensure I have enough reserve to feed myself and my pup after birth.

I won’t make it back to Mythos before the pup comes, I know that much. There’s simply too much distance to cover in that short span of time, even if I could go without eating.

The pup is heavy, both in my mind and my belly; he’s not moving much, though, and I worry. I know my time is close—I can feel it. Should the pup be moving more? Is he sick? Weak? Or maybe …

I finish with the crab, then dive back down. I refuse to think about the maybes, but they’re there, creeping in the back of my mind. I think about my escape from the ship, that fall. Did I hurt the pup? Did I hurt the pup before that, because I didn’t realize I was carrying him around with me?

I feel so guilty, so alone and awful. My mate is dead. Vati and my brothers are thousands of miles away from me, and the pup in my belly might not be alive for very long.

The sea lashes at me, like a scolding parent, berating me for how awful I am at being a vati to my poor pup. I let it; I deserve the treatment.

I hunt and swim during the daylight hours, then drift on the open ocean, sleeping at the surface, even though the wind tears at my face. I sleep longer each day, trying to conserve more energy, and just let the ocean currents drift me along. Maybe if I sleep long enough, they’ll carry me all the way home to Mythos, to Vati and my brothers …

I almost think I got my wish when I wake and hear the eager clamor of thousands of voices singing. I open my eyes and sit up, lifting my head clear of the water as I slap my tail against it.

There. Dark bodies against the bright white of a thick edge of ice. Thousands of them, bouncing along, and for a second, I think I’m home.

Then I realize that can’t be. I’d reach the south shores of Mythos first, and the south shore is never iced in. The North Beach haul-out always is, but I’d have to pass the south shores to reach it. And I definitely don’t think I passed through any tropical waters in my sleep. The wind is relentless, and I feel like I’m frozen to the core after being immersed in frigid waters for days on end.

I drift a little closer, slowly realizing that the singing isn’t selkie singing. It belongs to our cousins, seals, the ones who can’t take off their pelts.

And the ice pack, I realize, isn’t coastal. It’s sea ice; the ocean has frozen solid, creating a wall in front of me that stretches to the horizon.