By The Sea (6 page)

“Get out of here, Megan.” Niall drew knives from his boots and stepped forward.

Run
. Running wouldn’t solve the problem, though. Based on the questionable stains on the floor, this beast had made her home here. On top of that, I wasn’t going to leave Niall behind. I darted down for the candle on the floor, ignoring the splash of hot wax on my hand. The sole advantage I had? This was my town. I’d been in this apothecary a thousand times before it shut down.

I ran, but not in the direction Niall wanted me to.

The candlelight cast a dim yellow glow interspersed by jagged shadows along the walls. They faced off in the showcase room, the main spot in the store. There were two back rooms; one was for storage and the other was an employee break room. At least once upon a time it had been. Niall’s pelt wouldn’t be pinned to a wall or slung haphazardly around one of those rooms. No, it would be hidden, stored away. This monster thought she was so very clever. Fortunately, so had the former shop owner. And an inquisitive little girl who had visited there every Saturday.

Secret or trap doors are the coolest things when you’re a kid, and tend to stick out in the memory. I reached for the window, trying to tug it open. Stuck, glued by the sludge of disuse. I dug into the pockets of my skirt, grateful for the use of my hands again. The walls shook and a crash echoed through the place, coming from the other room. My heart reverberated against my ribcage, beating at a hummingbird’s pace.

Grabbing a pen from my pocket, I dug the point into the crack, trying to loosen it. Chips of painted wood flew up and the pen snapped in half as I jabbed at the ledge. I tried again. Still stuck. Angling myself, I shoved all my weight into the push. The window shot upward with a groan.

Between the windowpanes was the cutout. Old Man George had shown it to me as a kid, a place where he stored old pennies, tin teaspoons, and a worn copy of Moby Dick, along with some of his other favorite books. I reached into the hole, half expecting something to snap my hand off.

My fingers brushed against fur—the slicked-down, silky kind.

I grabbed Niall’s pelt from the crevice, hoping I wasn’t too late.

Guided by the flickering candlelight, I veered around the corner and more wax splashed onto my hand. Niall’s back was on the ground, the demon atop him. The knife in Niall’s hand glinted, but the demon’s claws were sharper. The rusty scent of blood filled the air as talons ripped into his arms, tearing skin. My stomach twisted. Was this monster one of those fae creatures, like him?

Niall needed a distraction. Something to give him an advantage.

Well, I had just the thing.

“I found the pelt!” I shouted in the loudest voice I could muster. Both Niall and the demon glanced my way.

The monster lashed out with long, knobby limbs before I had a chance to run. Yellowed nails raked my cheek as she scrabbled closer, trying to get the pelt I held behind me. Fear froze my feet.
Have to run. Have to get out of here
. Despite the panic roaring in my mind, the sear of pain as blood trickled from the cuts on my cheek, the brush of fire-hot skin as the beast grappled with me—I saw the fury in Niall’s eyes and none of it mattered.

The second the beast turned its back, Niall’s knife found its mark.

The monster howled in pain and I scrambled away from its thrashing arms, trying to angle around to Niall. Before I could hand over the pelt, Niall had snatched it out of my hands. The beast sank to its knees, howling in pain from a dagger pierced through that mottled flesh, straight into the spine.

Niall brandished the pelt in his hands, sealskin so thick and luminescent it shone without any help from the moon. “Get out of my town.” His voice was all menace. “Don’t ever think of stealing a selkie’s pelt again. You’ll find yourself floating face-first in the ocean and the sea won’t be nearly as forgiving.”

With the pelt in his hands, something about him changed. Not mutated, like the woman had into the monster that groveled in front of us, but a subtle change, his stance stronger and more dangerous. His face held ancient wisdom, like he’d seen the depths of the ocean and swum up to tell the tales. More than anything, I could sense the power flowing through him, as strong as the tides lapping to shore. God, he was beautiful.

“Go,” he commanded, his voice a combination of steel and something phantom. The creature’s milky eyes narrowed, but she obeyed. Step by begrudging step, she hobbled out of the storefront, leaving splotches of dark-purple blood in her wake.

Once the door shut, Niall raced to my side. I hadn’t realized my legs had given way, but I sat on the ground, staring up at him. His hand cupped my cheek and he knelt so we were face to face.

“Well, that thing wasn’t very friendly.” I tried for a grin, but it wavered. The aftershock of all that paralyzing fear and choking adrenaline left me exhausted.

Niall laughed softly, but his eyes betrayed him, as concerned and filled with worry as the sweet boy I’d always known. He wrapped those strong arms around me, squeezing tight. His warmth flooded through my chest even though my limbs had already turned to jelly. “Thank you,” he murmured into my hair.

He lifted me off the ground as if I was as light as a child. My eyelids kept fluttering heavier than I remembered. He stepped out into the blackened street, carrying me. I clung to consciousness, but seconds later the shadowy buildings and distant streetlamps flickered in and out. His scent enveloped me, reminders of the salty sea, nighttime breezes, and the distant sounds of the tide as it lulled me to sleep.

***

I woke with a start as sunlight poured in through the window. The walls surrounding me were peach and accented by a couple of spartan black and white photos of people I’d never seen before in my life. The memories from last night rushed at me: following the customer; the way she’d morphed into a monster; how I’d been bound on the floor of the apothecary; finding Niall’s pelt.

Had it been a nightmare? I sat up in a bed that wasn’t mine and flipped the tartan blanket off. I wore the same red halter top and khaki skirt from the night before, dirty and ripped up. My fingertips brushed over the lumpy scab forming on my cheek, sending a twinge of pain at the touch.

On the other side of the room, Niall sat, hunched forward in a chair. The sun illuminated the rich sienna hues of his hair, exaggerating the curve of his neck and the shadow of his collarbone. I glanced over to the digital clock on the dresser and panic rolled through me. My shift at Bobby’s had started three hours ago. The moment I hopped out of bed, Niall’s eyes fluttered open.

“Meg, where are you going?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Have to get home and get to work.” I stopped, realizing I had no idea which direction to go. “Where are we?”

“My apartment.” He yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “And don’t worry. I took the liberty of calling you off both jobs. After the hell you went through last night, you need a day off.”

A shudder rolled through me from the graying, fear-tinted memories of yesterday. They had been real. I sat on the bed, staring at the matted carpet. The mattress moved as Niall sat beside me.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“You’re going to laugh,” he said, squeezing the bed frame.

“Try me.”

“Scent. I tracked you down.” He scratched the nape of his neck and glanced away sheepishly.

I blinked. Like a puppy or something. The craziness of the past couple days bubbled within me and before I could hold it back, laughter burst from my chest. My shoulders shook, tears pricked at my eyes, but I couldn’t stop laughing, half-hysterical. When I caught my breath, I looked over at Niall. He’d crossed his arms over his chest while he waited for me to stop.

“My tracking skills are hilarious.” His voice was deadpan.

“You’re like an oceanic Lassie.” My grin twitched on my face, threatening to tumble over into laughter again.

“Ha.” He tried to hold onto his seriousness, but seconds later broke into a broad grin. “You did it, though. You found the fae that stole my pelt.” Pride emanated from the confident curve of his smile as his fingers caressed my cheek. His touch jolted me and I was torn between holding his hand there and backing away. A sigh slipped his lips. “I should’ve never gotten you involved. Those type of fae are cowards, but crafty. She was squatting, trying to get some fast food on legs.”

The milk white eyes and twisted body flashed through my mind again. That fae would be haunting my nightmares for a long time to come. A long and lonely time. Niall’s pelt hung on the chair where he’d slept.

“Now you’ve got your pelt again. You’re a free man,” I mumbled, unable to look up at him. This was it, the point where he’d leave again. No conch shell reminder this time, just out the door, or gone the next morning, and I still would never know how he felt. This was the part I’d dreaded.

Niall stood and picked up his pelt from the chair. I found it harder to breathe. Was he going to leave that quickly? He crouched in front of me.

“You’re right.” His eyes glowed with the intensity emanating from them. “I’m a free man, which means I’m free to give you this.” He placed the pelt in my hands, his movement slow and reverent.

I tilted my head to the side. Not that I wasn’t honored, but we’d spent all that time finding this all important pelt so he could give it away again?

A soft smile hovered on his lips. “I know you don’t get the formality. When a selkie gives up his pelt, it’s only to his mate. It means I want to stay here with you. If you’ll have me, I mean.” A light blush overtook his cheeks, surprising from a man who kept his cool like he kept his secrets.

Processing his words took a couple seconds and I stared at him dumbfounded, just blinking. He would stay. He wanted to stay with me. A knot unfurled in my chest and, awash with relief, tears pricked at my eyes. He looked away and the mood got awkward as he fidgeted with the pelt in his hands. Oh, crap, I was leaving him hanging.

“Of course I want you to stay.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Warmth spread down through my fingertips and my shoulders ached with relief; he wasn’t going to leave again. He was here to stay.

His lips found mine first. A delicious fluttering lifted my chest and I drank in his taste of copper and the sea. I slipped my tongue into his mouth, darting against his, playfully, the same way we danced together in the ocean. His kiss consumed me, enveloped me in the same way the water did every time I plunged off the pier and into the deep end. And God, I was in deep.

My fingers gripped his hair and wandered down his smooth skin, gliding over each taut muscle. His hand pressed against the small of my back and my breasts strained against his chest. This close, I could feel his hot breath on my neck as his lips traveled down to my collarbone. I’d been waiting for him for so long. When he returned, I was worried he’d leave again, the same way, but no. He was here, real flesh and bone. His lips found mine again and I shivered from the bliss that traveled through me. Niall was here to stay.

Before when we’d kissed, I had been desperate, drowning in paranoia and fear from all the years I’d spent missing him. This was different. The need for him hit me as strong as the intense desire heating his eyes, but I was no longer afraid. Instead, anticipation bubbled up inside.

He pulled away first for breath, our chests heaving as we stared at each other in an intoxicated haze.

“You’re going to stay.” The smile overtaking my face couldn’t be wider, so strong it hurt.

“Always.” He kissed me then, his lips brushing against mine. The motion was tender and so sweet, my chest ached, and I knew. Despite the sea being wild and the waves rolling away from the shore, the tide always returns.

Katherine McIntyre is an author of steampunk adventure, dark comedy, urban fantasy and paranormal romance stories. She splits her time writing and working the day job, but as for creative pursuits, she’s dabbled in a little bit of everything. A modern day Renaissance-woman, she’s learned soapmaking, beer brewing, tea blending and most recently roasting coffee. The one constant from a very young age was her passion for reading and writing.

You may visit with Katherine at:

http://katherine-mcintyre.com

Felines and Flowers by Stephanie Grace

During high school, Warren was just Wendy’s youth pastor. All grown up and shepherding over her own flock of church kids, Wendy Miller turns to her old friend for help. Not that Warren is that old. In fact, the two have a lot more in common than Wendy would have ever thought.

After the death of his wife, Warren was sure he was finished with relationships. Wendy changes that forgone conclusion with her bright spirit and zest for life. Lining up their desires when they’re at very different points in their lives proves a challenge that might take a little divine intervention, or at least help from friends.