The Selkie Enchantress (10 page)

“Wh-what happened? Where are we?”

“You’re on Seal Island. Your mother is renting a cottage here for the weekend.” She stood, scooping him up. “We’re going to find her and get you to the doctor. Now!”

“Wait!” He scrambled out of her arms, catching sight of the book lying in the mud.

“Owen, leave it!” Caitlin’s voice was edged with panic as she fought to keep her footing in the gusting wind.

He grabbed for it, wiping the mud off the spine. “I…” He trailed off, cradling the book in his good hand. “I… remember.” He looked up at her, rain streaming down his hood and into his eyes. “I remember!” he shouted over the crash of the sea. “This is why we came here.” He lifted the book up, waving it at her.

“That’s not why we came here!” Caitlin shouted back. “We came here to fix up the cottage!”

Owen shook his head. “No.” He fumbled with the pages, flipping through them and then pulling
The Little Mermaid
book out of his coat. “We came here to talk about the sea witch who comes on land to steal the prince away from his true love!”

“
What?
” Caitlin shoved at the wet locks of hair plastered to her face. “Owen,
what
are you talking about?”

“It’s right here,” he cried, tapping the soaked pages with his frozen fingers. “She steals him away from the girl he’s supposed to be with!”

“Please, Owen.” Caitlin held out her hand. “That’s only a fairy tale. We need to see Tara,
now
.”

“No.” He shook his head, hugging the book to his chest. “You can’t tell her. You can’t tell anyone!” Owen froze when a voice calling his name over the wind reached him. He shoved the books into his pocket, stuffing them away as fast as he could, visibly shaking as his mother ran up the path toward them.

“Owen, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Caitlin spat rainwater out of her mouth and stared at Nuala in a long white hooded cloak, swirling around her ankles, not a splash of dirt or mud on the hem. She ran to her son, snatching him up into her arms. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!”

Owen held Caitlin’s gaze over his mother’s shoulder, his eyes pleading with her not to say anything.

Nuala set Owen back down, clutching him to her side and taking a minute to catch her breath. She glanced over at Caitlin. “Has he been with you the whole time?”

Caitlin nodded.

“He said he was going to the market and he’d be right back.” Nuala shook her head. “I’ve been all over this island searching for him.” She let out a long breath, pressing a hand to her chest. “Owen, please.” She looked down at her son. “Please, don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” he mumbled, gripping the front of his jacket and stuffing the books deeper into the folds.

“He needs to see a doctor,” Caitlin called through the rain.

“What?” Nuala’s eyes snapped up, her voice panicked. “Why? What’s the matter?” She bent down, cradling Owen’s face in her hands. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said, edging away from her. “I’m fine.”

Caitlin opened her mouth to protest, but the wind whipped her hood back from her face and rainwater soaked down the back of her neck. Planting her feet against the wind, she fumbled with the twisted rubber material, yanking it back over her face. Her gaze dropped to Owen’s hand and she stared as the faint shimmer of blue faded and he began to wiggle his fingers.

How? How was that possible? She lifted her eyes to Owen’s. He shook his head, small snaps from side to side, his eyes pleading up at her not to say anything.

The sea surged, black waves crashing against the rocky coast to the north, spraying white foam into the air. Caitlin swallowed. Why didn’t he want his mother to know about the book? Or the rose? “I heard him cough a few times. I thought he should see Tara and make sure it’s nothing serious.”

Nuala’s eyes narrowed, her arm curling around her son’s shoulders, protectively. “I think I’ll decide what my son needs or doesn’t need.”

Caitlin’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t mean…”

“What are you doing out in this storm, anyway?”

“Looking after one of my cottages,” Caitlin explained, raising her voice over the howl of the wind.

Nuala eyed the crumbling cottage in disgust. She took Owen’s hand and started to lead him back toward the village. “Next time, don’t bring my son with you.”

“Excuse me?” Caitlin marched after them. Her sneakers filled with rainwater and squished into the soggy blanket of moss with each step. “Owen
followed
me out here. I didn’t put him up to this.”

Nuala glanced over her shoulder. “He’s only a child. He doesn’t know any better.”

“He
told
me he couldn’t go home,” Caitlin shouted. “That you wanted to be alone to write.”

Nuala stopped and turned to face her. “Children can come up with the most
imaginative
stories, can’t they?”

The rain pelted the back of Caitlin’s legs, soaking into her jeans. “You’re saying it was a lie?”

“Of course it was a lie. I would never throw my child out of my home so I could write.” Nuala’s eyes were like ice. “I apologize if he was bothering you. It won’t happen again.”

Caitlin’s hands curled at her sides. “Owen’s never… a bother.”

Nuala pinched the drooping sleeve of Owen’s bright yellow rain jacket. “I assume this is yours.”

“It is.”

“I’ll come by later to return it.”

“Keep it,” Caitlin said through clenched teeth. “Let him use it through the weekend and leave it in the cottage when you go. I’ll pick it up later.”

“How kind of you,” Nuala said, her voice dripping with derision. “But he has his own. He just refuses to wear it.”

Caitlin looked down at Owen, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Owen,” Nuala said, frowning when she saw Owen rustling around in his pocket. “What do you have in your jacket?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see,” she said, reaching for the buttons.

“It’s okay,” Caitlin cut in. “It’s just a book. I told him he could borrow it.”

Nuala shook her head. “Owen, give Ms. Conner back her book.”

Owen swallowed and with shaky hands he withdrew
Beauty and the Beast
, and held it out to Caitlin. “I’m sorry I got it wet,” he whispered.

“That’s okay,” Caitlin said, tucking it into the crook in her arm. “I’ll get another. It’s just a book. It doesn’t matter.”

“Let’s go, Owen.” Nuala scooped up her son’s hand, gripping it tightly in her own as she glanced back up at Caitlin. “I’ll be by this afternoon to return your things.”

Caitlin nodded, numb as the mother and child turned, disappearing into the curtain of rain. But just before they faded, Owen looked back at her over his shoulder, helplessly. Caitlin stared at their silhouettes until they were nothing but ghosts in a gray landscape and her gaze fell to the book still clutched in her arm.

***

Owen ducked into the shelter of the cottage, but the chill followed him inside and he stood in the damp living room, shivering. He flinched when his mother shut the door behind them and locked it.

She swept back her hood, shedding her cloak and draping it over the hook behind the door. “Give me your jacket.”

Owen clutched at the rubber folds. “It’s got dirt all over it.”

She held out her hand.

“I could take it into the bath and rinse it off,” he offered.

“Give me the jacket, Owen.”

Trembling, he slipped it off, sleeve by sleeve. Rainwater dripped from the hood onto the floor. He bundled it up, wrapping the thick rubber around the book still tucked in the inside pocket and handed it to his mother.

She took it and frowned at the weight. “What else do you have in here?”

“Nothing.” Owen’s eyes darted to the pocket. “I don’t have anything.”

His mother shook out the bundle, the wet rubber squeaking in protest. Dipping her hand into the pocket, she fished out
The Little Mermaid
. Her eyes met his. Her voice was cold and quiet. “Did you think I wouldn’t find it?”

Owen swallowed the lump in his throat. “I just… wanted to look at the pictures again.”

“Owen, listen to me. Listen very carefully. You are not to spend time with Ms. Conner again. You are not to look at books written for children half your age.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand, silencing him. “You are not to sneak out of the house unless you tell me where you are going.”

“But I told you where I was going,” Owen protested.

“You
told
me you were going to the market.”

“I did go to the market. And then I… kept walking.”

“To Ms. Conner’s house.”

Owen nodded.

“Why?”

Owen looked down at the ground, scrubbing the toe of his sneaker over the muddy tiles.  “Because.”

Nuala sighed. “Do you think Ms. Conner wanted you tagging along with her for the day?”

“She likes having me around.”

“Does she?” His mother arched a pale brow. “Did she tell you this herself?”

Owen lifted his chin. “She said I could stay as long as I wanted.”

Nuala’s lips curved into a thin smile. “What did you expect her to say?”

Owen’s gaze dropped back to the puddle of water, at the mud streaking across the pretty white tiles. His mother’s white cloak hung on the back of the door, spotless and already bone dry. His toes curled inside his shoes, the only part of his body still warm clad in Caitlin’s fuzzy wool socks. He remembered how warm and safe he’d felt with Caitlin after the terrible dream. The image of the underwater palace floated into his mind, and he started to shiver again. “Why can’t I remember where I’m from?”

Tucking the book into her arm, Nuala looped Owen’s jacket over the other hook on the door, careful to not let it touch her own spotless coat. “It’s better this way.”

“Why?”

Nuala turned, taking a deep breath. “Because we’re not going to be here that long.” Slowly, she dropped down to one knee and took Owen’s hands in hers. “Once we’re back home, you’ll remember everything. And everything you’ve ever wanted will be yours.”

“But what if I want to stay here?”

Heat flashed behind his mother’s eyes but the grip on his hands stayed calm and steady. “That’s not possible, Owen.”

“Won’t you at least tell me what we’re doing here?”

“I promise,” she said, smoothing his wet curls back from his forehead. “All will be clear in time.”

He shivered when he felt her fingertips brush his skin, cold as ice. Just like the rose by the cottage. Just like the roses in his dream. His whole body started to tremble when he remembered the picture of the rose in the storybook. And what happened to the Beast when the last petal fell.

What if the rose by the cottage was
his
ticking clock, representing
his
time on this island. What was going to happen to him when that last petal fell?

Caitlin’s teeth chattered as she fished out the key to her cottage. Her fingers felt numb and useless and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this cold, or this confused. She fit the key into the lock and stepped back, surprised when the knob turned easily and the door swung open.

Had she forgotten to lock it?

The hair on the back of her arms stood up as she stepped into the dark hallway. The curtains in the living room were drawn and the wind howled through the street behind her. She stifled a scream when she spotted the man sitting in the armchair by the fire.

“Liam!” Caitlin’s hand flew to her heart. “You scared me to death!” She fumbled for the light switch.

“Don’t bother,” he said quietly. “We’ve lost power.”

Caitlin lowered her arm. “How long have you been here?”

He continued to gaze into the dying embers in the hearth. A glass of whiskey, nearly drained, rested on the arm of the chair. “A while.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Caitlin stripped off her dripping jacket. “How did you get in here?”

Liam jingled the spare keys she left in the pub for Dominic. “Since when do you lock up?”

“I got in the habit after everything that happened this summer.”

Liam lifted the glass and took a long swallow. Ice clinked against the bottom as he set it down and pushed to his feet. Shadows danced over the contours of his striking face as he turned. A dark layer of stubble was growing along the hard line of his jaw, making him look dangerous in the dim light of the cottage. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“About what happened this summer?”

Liam crossed the room with slow purposeful strides, his gaze penetrating. “About what happened after.”

Caitlin’s pulse quickened. “After…?”

He paused only when he was right in front of her, reaching up and tucking a wet lock of hair behind her ear. “Between us.”

Caitlin felt a surge of hope. “You… remember?”