The Shadow of Mist (4 page)

“I don't believe you,” he said softly, leaning close. “I don't believe you for a second. I know how you feel about me and what you think of marrying me. What you don't seem to understand is that
your feelings don't matter
. I want you and I'm going to have you. You'll adjust, and in the meantime, I'll make sure you enjoy yourself. Trust me,” he whispered, his lips bare inches from mine. “You'll love every moment of every night.”

I pulled away, trying to keep my balance, but he was a tall man and broad-shouldered, with a narrow waist. As was the nature of the roane, his hair was jet-black, wavy and curling around his ears. A scar was the one blemish he had—a jagged cut on his throat that had come from when a shark had caught him by the neck. His kinsmen had swum in to save him, one of them losing his life in the process. But Terry had survived and healed up, with just the scar to remind him. Seal or human, it remained in both his forms.

I drank in the sight of him, wanting to remember his face when I was long gone and this was all like a bad dream. Terrance would be my reminder that evil sometimes wore a very pleasant body.

“Fine. We wed tomorrow,” I said and pulled away. “Now leave me be. I have to start my preparations for the handfasting.”

As I walked away, I forced myself to focus on the fact that I'd never have to look at him again. Never have to talk to him, listen to him, endure his touch. But to escape, I'd have to steal the money. I'd hoped to put off the wedding until I could sell a few things to earn my passage fare, but there wasn't time.

By the time I reached our house, everyone was gone. Like a common thief, I raided the secret stashes where my parents and brothers kept their money, ending up with a handful of change above and beyond the cost of my ticket.

I packed two satchels. The journey would be lean and cold until I found a home and a job, so most of what I took were clothes, food, and a few toiletries. I stopped, though, when I came to my mother's photo box. The pictures were expensive, but my mother had managed to afford a photograph of the entire family, and she had three copies of it. I pressed the photograph to my lips, kissing it gently, then slid the picture inside my satchel, in between two small books to keep it flat and unharmed.

After that, I tucked a small vial of sand from the Orkney's shores into my handbag, along with my seal skin. I'd brought the sand with me to Queenstown, and I'd take it with me to America.

As soon as I was finished packing, I scribbled a hasty farewell.

 

 

I hurried toward the port and an hour later, ticket in hand, I was bustling up the gangplank. The
Umbria
was about to set sail and I'd secured one of the last seats. It would be an uncomfortable crossing, but in less than three weeks I'd walk off the boat, into a new life.

As the ship's horn sounded and we slowly pulled away from shore, I resolutely walked to the front of the boat. With images of my family flickering through my mind, I kept my eyes on the open water as we headed out to sea.

I looked at Camille. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and I realized that they understood. They knew why I'd lied to them. Why I'd hid behind a layer of half-truths and veiled deceptions. But still . . . I had to ask.

“Can you forgive me for lying to you?”

Delilah slowly hit the Save button on her file of notes. Then she called up Google and did a search on his name to see if we could find any pictures on the Web, but there were none. Pressing her lips together, she held out her hand and drew me down to sit in the chair between her and her sister.

“We understand. And Menolly . . . she'll probably understand best of all,” she said softly. “The question is, what do we do now? Does he have the right to demand you head home with him? Is there any way he could make it stick? By human rights he can't do a damned thing to you—but the Supe Community might see it otherwise. They couldn't force you to go, but they could stand by and do nothing while he took you. Or make life miserable if you refused.”

“I don't know,” I said softly. “The Pod is old-fashioned. We may be the Weres who cling to tradition most. Many of the selkie and roane still don't interact with humans as much as other shifters do, and to be honest, we aren't even like most other Weres. We aren't ruled by the moon—not our shifting, at least.”

Camille let out a long sigh. “The Pod could also make life a bitch for your baby, and for Mitch. Speaking of, you said you haven't told Mitch about this yet? Big mistake. You can't leave him out of this or he'll resent you for it.”

I shook my head. “I'm not sure what the hell to do. We're supposed to get married as soon as the baby's born. Now I wonder, will he leave me? Will he side with the Pod?”

“You're borrowing trouble. Siobhan, I know you think solving this means just getting Terrance out of the way before anybody finds out about him, but what if he moves before we can nail him? What if he calls Mitch at work or shows up at the door?”

I knew she was right, but I couldn't even begin to think about how I was going to tell Mitch I'd fabricated a large part of my past.
Sweetie, I lied to you about almost everything from my past, but it's no big deal . . .
“No. If we find Terry first—”

Delilah dove in. “That's a big
if
. You have to realize that if Terrance knows your cell phone number, he's got to have done his homework. He's been stalking you for over a hundred years, and stalkers don't usually care about the feelings of their victim's loved ones.”

She motioned for me to stand and—not knowing what else to do—I stood. Delilah put her arm around my shoulder and I stared up at the towering Amazon of a woman. When I first met her, she was gentle, a kitten at heart, but I could tell she'd hardened over the past year or so. Camille, too. They looked tired, weary even when they were laughing.

“Here,” she said, easing me in front of the mirror in the hallway. “Look at yourself. Look at your tummy. You have a child inside there—one you came by only after a long, hard time. Are you going to put her in danger? Are you going to chance your daughter's survival because you're afraid your fiancé will be angry at you?”

As I stared at my reflection, I let out a long sigh. She was right. They both were, and I had to face facts. “I'll tell Mitch tonight when he gets home.”

“Good. Meanwhile, we'll nose around and see what we can find. We need to know everything you can remember about Terrance's tastes, hobbies—anything that might help us get a lead on him.”

As we returned to the kitchen, I realized that this problem wasn't going to disappear just because I was in denial. I sank into my seat and began to tell them everything I could remember.

“Terry liked to fish, of course—all our men were fishermen, and most of the roane, too. After all, who knows the sea better than a selkie or roane or one of the Finfolk?”

I poured tea—caffeinated for Camille, herbal for Delilah and me—and set out a plate of shortbread. I made the best shortbread in the city; of that I was sure. Coworkers were always begging me to bring a batch to parties.

“What's the difference between the Finfolk and the selkies or roane?” Camille asked. “Back in Otherworld, selkies are considered part of the Weres rather than the Fae. But Finfolk?”

“Selkies and roane are odd among the Weres, in that we have our seal suits. We don't fully shift over like you, for example.” I pointed at Delilah. “You, now, even your clothes make the shift in the form of a collar. The selkies don't have that one hundred percent transformation rate. And we don't shift on cue from the moon.”

“I always wondered why.”

“I have no idea,” I said. “I've never known a water creature to shift fully over—at least, not a
water animal
, not one ruled by anything other than the Ocean Mother herself. But the Finfolk . . . they fully transform, but they also never take full animal form. They're part fish, part humanoid in their natural state.”

“Wait—are they also called the Meré?” Camille perked up. “If so, then I understand what you're saying.”

“Could be. Mermen, mermaids? They can take human form for only a short time compared to selkies—a few days in between returning to the sea. But they're . . .”

“Mean.” Camille grimaced. “Mean, nasty, and up to no good. In Otherworld, the Meré are considered Fae, but they aren't welcome near most towns. In fact, most of our port cities have guards to watch out for them because the men are . . . well . . . a lot like Terrance. You're right—there is a resemblance there. I wonder if he has mixed blood. Roane Meré?” She gave me a look that told me she really didn't want to hear a
yes
.

“That would explain a lot,” I said, holding my stomach. “And if that's the case, if he even has a tiny sprinkling of Meré in his blood, then he'll rip out my child and sacrifice it without hesitation. The Meré are possessive, and once they decide something—or someone—is theirs, they do everything possible to keep it that way. A child from another man would make a Meré wild with jealousy. My baby would be a sitting duck.”

“Do you think there's a chance? Even a faint one?” Delilah looked up, alert. “If so, we'd better get you some protection.”

I stared at the table. Could he have Finfolk blood in his veins? It couldn't be much or he'd have to be in the water more than I remembered. But then, I hadn't known him very long. We'd gone for a walk, he'd raped me, then offered to marry me to even the score. It had taken less than a month for my parents to settle with him on the wedding payment. In all that time, I'd seen him for only a few hours here and there. Just long enough to know I wanted to kill him, but not long enough to know whether he spent a lot of time cruising the waves.

“I don't know, but it's possible.” I looked up. “At this point, I'm willing to believe anything.”

“Why don't you show me your computer?” Delilah said.

I led her into the living room where we kept the desk with the computer on it. “Here it is—but why?”

“Because I want to check for spyware, for Trojans, for worms, for anything he might have sent you. There are so many ways to hack into someone's computer that it's scary. And if he's after all the information on you he can find . . .” She left the thought unfinished but I saw what she was getting at.

I curled up on the sofa, not wanting to know how far Terry had insinuated himself into my life without me realizing it. As I sat there, watching Delilah tap away at the keys, the reality of what was happening began to hit home. Terrance was really back in my life.

I glanced at the clock. Mitch should be home soon and I'd have to tell him what happened. “Can you guys stick around and help me explain?” I looked at Camille, as I picked at the hangnail on my thumb. “I know you're busy but I just . . .”

“You're afraid,” she said. “Not of Mitch, but of what he might say?”

I nodded. “I lied to him. Not fully, but I sure didn't tell him everything. And I know he'll understand but what if . . . what if . . .”

“What if he doesn't?”

Again, I nodded. “What if he decides to leave me? To leave his child?”

“That's not going to happen,” Delilah said. “Mitch is—Hello, what do we have here? Siobhan, has your computer been running a little slow lately?”

I frowned, thinking back. Mitch mainly used it to play World of Warcraft with his buddies, but I checked my e mail, did a little online shopping, kept my diary on it.

“Yeah, it has. For about a month. Mitch said maybe we need to defrag it but I'm not sure what that means. I can use Outlook and I can write in my journal and surf the Web but I don't know much else about how a computer runs.”

“E-mail? Do you get a lot of spam mail?” She frowned, tapping away at the keys.

“Gods, yes. I delete probably fifty a day.”

“You should get Gmail. It has to work better than what you're using right now. You say you do a lot of online shopping? What about online banking?” Delilah looked worried now, the black crescent scythe tattoo on her forehead flashing silver.