Page 112 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

But he hadn’t destroyed her. And that was the most painful bit of tabulation, wasn’t it?

If only he’d waited. If he’d been stronger and honored her properly, letting her lie in state for a time, she would have healed, he would haveseenher heal. He would have wept into her hair and trembled with gratitude.

But he hadn’t. He’d been mad with grief and had left her as alone as he was now.

To have had her for the last few weeks, though? To have held her and loved her andworshippedher? To have tasted that wondrous and wondering joy again? It made the loneliness that much more bitter and painful.

Callum’s misery carried him through the remainder of the night, staring at the dark water and waiting. Before long, he distantly realized that the sky above the horizon was growing lighter. It would soon be dawn. There was a part of him that wondered if he should let the sun take him, if that would finally be penance enough. But the greater part of him would rather live in the world where he knew she was than spend the rest of eternity in the void without her.

He would wait for her. He would wait on that island for another thousand years if that’s how long it took her to return. After all, what was time to him when he had endless amounts of it? What was a century? Or a millennium? Or two? Nothing, that’s what. Like the spare change in a cupholder.

To do that, however, he had to be safe and get inside. He needed to reach the vault before the sun threatened to steal every possibility at happiness from him. But as he stood, he realized that in his misery, he’d misjudged the time. He would have to run.

“Fuck,” he hissed, turning to hurry back the way he’d came.

There was a splash and a sharp clasp around his ankle, teeth sinking deep and pulling. Hard. The force toppled him and he found himself scrabbling, clawing with useless fingers because, as strong as he was, whatever had his ankle in its teeth was equally so. He dared to look behind him, or to try, but through the splashing, all he could see was a hulking dark shape.

It was one of his worst fears brought to life. A creature from the deep, come to claim him. A monster. A thing that could swallow him whole or tear him apart. It was easy for humans to say, “There’s no such thing as monsters.” But he was living proof that they were wrong.

“Nay, godsdamnit, not now,” he grunted, desperately trying to pull away, kicking his leg and gouging his fingers into the wet sand.

But the teeth bit deeper and he shouted as he was pulled farther into the water, until he was fully submerged. He shouted again, the sound muffled by the icy water. Deeper and deeper he was pulled. He’d never make it now. He’d never make it into the vault inside the house. The moment the sun rose and sent shards of light through the water, he might as well be staked. From dust he was born and to dust he would return, lost to the sea as he’d nearly been all those years before.

39

Jory had never run so fast in her life as she did when the sealskin was in her hands. It trailed behind her, whipping in the wind and her own wake like a banner. She heard Callum behind her. She heard his racing steps, moving at an almost human pace, as if he wasn’t actually trying to catch her or stop her, but as if he wanted to follow her. She smiled.

She dashed into the water, and as she dove under, she felt it happening, the melding of cells, the shifting of bones and tissue, thebecoming. In the space of a heartbeat, it was done, and she swam in tight, joyful loops, relishing the way her body cut powerfully, effortlessly through the water. As if she was born to it. Because shewasborn to it. Of it. By it.

The water was cold and clean and full of movement and intensity. She’d missed it, missed the feeling of being completely surrounded. The closest she’d come was the weighted blanket Magda had bought her for Christmas a few years before. The feeling of pressure, weighing down and around her, had been so familiar that she’d wept.

Jory popped her head above the surface and looked at the shore. Callum sat in the sand, his forearms resting on his knees, staring after where she had gone. She waited for a long while, floating and watching him. He was so handsome, even when he looked heartbroken, and he was hers. Or at least he’d said he was. She believed him. Or she wanted to. But as she watched him, she realized that she needed one more thing from him. She needed him to stay.

In his misery, he’d flown off last time, an avenging angel, and left her. The fault wasn’t his alone, she knew, and she understood her part in the tragedy. She could have told him what she was. Sheshouldhave told him. That had been the part that wounded him most of all, she knew. Her lack of faith in him. But he’d still left her. Would he leave again? Would he assume the worst? Even after she had told him that she wanted him? Could he believe her?

They would find out.

She dove beneath the waves again, swimming in lazy curls in the dark water, scenting fish on the current, and decided to see. When she returned to shore in the morning, if he was still there, still safely tucked in the vault, she would know. She would stay. She would choose him too.

There wasn’t time to go home, but for the next few hours, Jory hunted and played. She relished every moment in the body that had cradled her the longest, like reuniting with her oldest friend. As the sky began to lighten in advance of the dawn, Jory made her way back to the shore, already preparing to separate from the skin again so that she could walk up the hill to the house.

But as she popped her head above the water, she saw him sitting there. Still. His body looking defeated. She watched him lift his head and knew the moment that he registered how much time had passed, how much danger he was in. He jumped to his feet, but Jory knew he’d never make it. She’d seen ten thousand more sunrises than him, and even if he could make it up the hill to the house, he’d never get to the vault before the glint of the sun through the full wall of windows would be the end of him.

How dare he? How fuckingdarehe? She chose him, and he did something so unbelievably foolish as to be taken out by the sun. Fear and rage like she’d never known coursed through her body, and she darted as quickly as she could toward the shore, launching her body forward and closing her teeth around his ankle. He was big and superhumanly strong, but so was she. She dragged him beneath the surface, pulling with all her might against his resistance. If he was too stupid to save himself, she’d do it for him.

She’d save him a thousand times over. Again and again. He looked back at her, and she knew the moment he realized that it was her because the fight left him and his body went still. He let her tow him down into the darkness even though she knew it terrified him. She loosed the grip of her teeth around his ankle, not enough to let him go, but enough that it wasn’t a vice. There was a cave nearby that she had visited many times with her father to look for crabs. He would be safe there, even if he might hate every minute of it.

Afraid, but alive. Wasn’t that how she’d spent the majority of her time trapped on land? She knew his fear would be twofold. He was afraid of the creatures that lurked in the darkness of the water, but she knew that he was more afraid of her leaving without a backward glance. She had trusted him to stay; let him trust her to come back.

40

She had brought him to a cave and towed him far enough beneath the overhang that no sunlight would reach him, but not so far that he couldn’t see beyond the cave’s mouth. He was grateful for that small mercy. She swam down to a large rock that sat on the cave floor and circled it. He understood. Picking up the heavy rock, he held it close against his chest. It was heavy enough to weigh him down and keep him in place.

He could sense her anger. Even in her seal form, he could feel it radiating off of her. He deserved it. He’d been a fool. Losing track of time and nearly being fried to a crisp? After she’d come back? After so many promises half spoken? He was angry with himself.

She swam closer, nuzzling the side of his face with her whiskered nose before resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers, never more grateful that he didn’t need to breathe than he was right now. She was different like this and yet wholly the same. The form was different, of course. On land she was a lush woman, with curves and softness and strength, and yet he could see the mirror of those feature in this form, as well. Powerful, but soft, too. He closed his eyes and allowed his gratitude, his awe, to wash over him.

Too soon, she lifted her head and swam over his shoulder, circling him close again before moving away. She narrowed her eyes, as if she were glaring at him, and he understood that she was commanding him to stay put. He nodded, appreciating that she had kept him safe even if he loathed everything about being down here except getting to watch her. She was magnificent.