Page 33 of Saved By the Selkie

I’m overwhelmed—first by the joy of seeing my mate alive, walking toward me across the ice, and then by knowing he came for me. I abandoned him, I ran away, and he still chased after me and found me across how many miles of open ocean, how many days and how many nights of sailing?

If I’d left the ship doubting that we were meant to be, all my fear evaporates now. If we weren’t fated, the ocean wouldn’t keep pushing us together on its tides. And yet here we are.

Then, just as suddenly, I’m afraid. Aramis is alive, but he doesn’t look well. He practically staggers across the ice. And Johan is with him, holding him at gunpoint.

Naardan looks at me, fear in his eyes. “We need to leave,” he says quickly, turning to go.

“No,” I whimper, “that’s my mate.”

“Which one?” he asks.

“The one in the lead, with his hands up. He’s in trouble.”

That spurs me to action. Aramis is in trouble. I need to help him. I lunge forward, then slide down the hill, ignoring Naardan yelling after me to wait.

I know it’s dangerous. But I can’t sit around and watch while my mate gets killed in front of me for a second time.

“Lir,” Aramis says, and the next second, I’m bowling him over because I can’t stop. The ice was slipperier than I expected, and I crash into him. He lands with a huff and a groan, and I shove my snout into his face, nuzzling him even as he tries to push me away.

A hand wraps around the scruff of my neck and yanks me back, like I’m nothing more than a pup. I toss my head back, jaws wide, hoping to find something to bite. Johan’s not a fool, though; he keeps his hands well clear of my teeth. He presses the muzzle of the gun against the back of my head.

“One wrong move, seal-boy,” he grunts, and I freeze. Aramis stares back at me, guilt clearly written across his face.

I’ve never felt more helpless. It’s worse than being caught near a pod of orcas or encountering a kraken. I wanted to help Aramis, but I’ve only put myself in harm’s way.

“Now,” Johan says, “are you going to cooperate and come with us, or am I going to be taking your hide alone back to New York.”

I don’t dare look away from Aramis. I think about the pup currently going wild inside me, frantic with my fear. I can’t take a risk. I swallow a whimper and nod minutely.

“Good,” Johan says and shoves me away from him. He holsters his gun and gets to his feet. He scans the horizon. Night has fallen faster than it should, even at this time of year. Black clouds billow on the horizon, creeping over the sky to steal what little light there is from the stars. The wind has picked up, and I want to tell the humans we should bed down and brace for the incoming storm. I can practically taste snow on my tongue.

“This way,” Johan says, pointing. I glance at Aramis, who refuses my gaze. Instead, he sets out after Johan.

“Ah-ah,” Johan says, pausing, waggling a finger at us. He nods at me. “In the front.”

I glance at him, then bounce into the lead. I hear him say to Aramis, “No funny business, or the water-puppy gets it.”

Aramis grunts; I can’t tell if that’s agreement, understanding, or something else.

We make slow progress across the endless expanse of the ice, picking our way through clusters of sleeping seals. Some of them snort and roll; others lift their heads and yawn, watching us with wary eyes. None of them get too close, not even curious whitecoats. A few of the adults give me a sympathetic look, as though they understand I’m a prisoner.

It isn’t long before the wind is tearing at our faces. My eyes water, even behind my lids. The inside of my nose is raw, and I long to curl up, tucking my head under my flipper to protect my face, especially as the wind sweeps snow and ice into the air.

The humans are worse off; they can’t see well in the dark, so they keep tripping on heaves in the ice, cursing.

I have no idea how long we trudge on. It gets colder, darker. Then the snow comes, thick and nearly blinding. The world turns white, like a blank page in one of the books on Aramis’s shelf. I can hardly see a foot in front of me.

“Goddammit,” Johan spits behind me, and I hear Aramis’s harsh breathing. When I twist back, I can barely make out their forms through the snow.

I bounce closer, looking up at Aramis. He understands instantly: we can’t keep going like this.

Both of us look at Johan. He stares back, silent. Without a word, he gets to his feet. He makes a big show of scanning the horizon—like he can see anything at all. “Let’s make for the hills,” he says, pointing at the vaguest outline of what could be some tall snow drifts. “We’ll bed down there for the night and make our way back to the boat in the morning.”

I catch Aramis’s gaze, but he looks away just as quickly. I don’t think we’re going to be able to move in the morning. It’s unlikely the storm will let up in just a few hours. But that makes the fact that we need to seek shelter more apparent. I’ll be fine; selkies are built for this weather. The humans? Not so much. Both of them are shivering and stumbling around, and I know it’s only going to get worse the longer the storm goes on. The temperature is already dropping, and the wind is buffeting us around.

Reluctantly, I slide toward the “hills” Johan indicated. As we draw closer, I can see that they are indeed tall drifts. If nothing else, they’ll provide some shelter from the wind sweeping across the open ice.

When we reach the barrier ridge, Johan kicks Aramis’s feet out from under him, forcing him to drop to his knees. “Dig,” he orders. Aramis stares at him for a second, then turns his attention to the snowbank. He stares at it. Then he plunges his hands in and starts tunneling into the side of the drift.