Page 18 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

16

Morgana

T hunder cracked and storm clouds churned the sky as Finn tucked his jacket back under his arm.

Jeez, the Cailleach was having some fun today! As if the old hag had heard me, the sky split open above our bench. A clap of thunder rumbled, and rain came pouring down.

“Over here!” Finn rose, and motioned toward the lighthouse.

I glanced back toward the path leading to the boardwalk and my grandfather’s house, but rain blurred the way as lightning splintered the sky, so I let Finn guide me, clutching my books. I had to keep them dry.

Rain streamed down our faces as he threw his shoulder into the dark wood door, and I pulled my satchel under my jacket.

“There’s a trick to it,” he grumbled when it refused to budge.

The door finally creaked in admittance when Finn heaved his shoulder against it for the third time, and we stepped inside.

My teeth chattered, and I wrapped my arms around myself as I took in the space. There wasn’t much to see: a dusty stone floor that met thick brick walls. The room was damp and dim, and there wasn’t any furniture save for an old thatch broom that rested in one of the corners.

“Look up.” Finn grinned. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, but he didn’t seem to be trembling with cold like I was.

I cast my eyes to the ceiling, and my breath caught in my throat. A spiral staircase wound up from the edge of the building to the top of the tower, where a sliver of light leaked through.

“Come on.” Finn beckoned me to follow him.

As we ascended the steps, the only sound was our damp shoes squeaking against the stone, mingling with rain and the tossing waves outside. At the top was a glass tower, and light flooded in from the windows that spanned the circumference of the building. It wasn’t a huge lighthouse—perhaps 90 feet—but it looked taller from the outside because it was perched on elevated rocks.

Outside, waves crashed against the stones, leaving saltwater embellishments on the tower’s windows. Lightning streaked across the sky in erratic, jagged bolts before striking the ocean.

“Morgana.” Finn’s voice was gentle. He had started a small fire from some old wood littering the dusty stone floor. Strange. I hadn’t even noticed him move or heard him flick a lighter.

I sat across from him on the cold floor, the flames flickering between us. Their warmth was a welcome comfort.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” Finn rested his elbows on his knees, tipping his head back as he took in the space.

I nodded.

“I come here sometimes to watch the sunrise after gathering rubbish.”

“Why do you do it? The rubbish pickups.”

He rubbed his neck and then met my stare. “Have you ever seen a fish stuck in six-pack rings? Or a dolphin caught in a fishing net?”

I shook my head.

“If you had,” he breathed, “then you wouldn’t have to ask.” His jaw was hard as he turned back to the windows.

“I get it.” I shrugged. “It’s just surprising because you seem so . . . unfeeling.”

“I find it easier to care for animals than people.” His face remained drawn as lightning skittered across the sky.

We were quiet for a moment, captivated by the storm’s rage.

“These storms are becoming more frequent.” Finn’s brow creased.

“This one reminds me of my life right now.” I laughed as another flash illuminated our faces. My last few days had been . . . Well, there was no describing my last few days.

“Out of a storm’s chaos, something new can grow.” Finn leaned back on one arm, resting the other on his cocked knees. “Kind of like life, I guess.” He looked at me, and the angry sky was reflected in his dark eyes.

“I wonder if people are destined for certain lives or if they create their paths.” I thought about the path I had been catapulted onto. With the tempest outside, what else could we do but talk? As the words escaped my lips, I realized I needed to speak with someone.

“Maybe destiny gives us choices, and what we choose defines us,” Finn said, brushing his damp hair from his forehead as he watched the rain beat against the glass. “But in my life, the choices are few.” He sighed. I thought I heard sadness in it, but I couldn’t be sure.

“It’s strange . . . I can’t sense your emotions like I can feel others’.” I had never told anyone about my “condition” before, but with him here now, the words just came tumbling out.

“You can detect people’s feelings?” His eyes were on me, raging with curiosity.

“Yes.” I blew out a breath. “But never with you. It’s like there’s a wall around you.”

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding.” His mouth twitched at the corners, as if he was about to smile but then thought better of it.

“It’s more than that. It’s like you’re shielded.” I surveyed his face. “I’m so used to understanding people, to knowing what they’re feeling to the extent that it’s suffocating. With you, I . . . I can’t feel a thing.”

“Does it bother you that much?” The hint of a smile curled into something wicked.

“It’s like a breath of fresh air.” I exhaled. “But it makes me feel like I don’t know you as well as I know some people I’ve never met.”

“Do you want to know me, Morgana?” His dark eyes stripped me bare.

“Yes.” I squeezed my thighs together to extinguish the throbbing his playful grin had evoked, biting my lip to hold back a smile. I did want to know him. We were playing a dangerous game, but I couldn’t pull myself from it.

Finn looked away, and the cockiness he had previously exhibited faltered. “Maybe some things are better left unknown.”

“Why would you say that?” My eyes bored into the side of his angular cheek, searching for any emotion. Nothing .

He was silent momentarily, still looking away from me at the turbulent sky.

“Because if you could sense my feelings . . .” He brought his dark eyes back to mine. “I’m not sure you’d like what you’d find.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? What are you protecting yourself from, anyway?”

“Emotions are for the weak.” His eyebrows drew apart, and his mouth tightened

The rain had stopped, and patches of blue sky appeared between the racing clouds. Still, we continued to sit in silence as the waves sighed outside.

Finally, Finn rubbed a hand down his face. “Do you want to know what you would feel if you could sense my emotions?”

“Yes,” I whispered, taking him in.

“Loneliness.” He released a deep breath, and it was like a layer of the protective shield he had around him melted off. I could see it clearly on his face. It hung around his eyes like shadows—he was the loneliest person I’d ever seen. Something in my heart fluttered as I looked at him. It was a feeling I knew only too well. I was sure it had hung around me the same way my entire life.

“Living my whole life consumed by the emotions of others, I found safety in loneliness, but being with you, without sensing your feelings, gives me hope . . . and hope is a dangerous thing.” I chewed on my lip.

“It is.” He sighed.

“Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to each other. Two broken pieces trying to fit together,” I mused, spilling more of my treacherous thoughts out loud.

“You don’t feel broken to me.” He surveyed me with dark eyes. “You feel . . . real .”

“When I looked at your tattoo that day in the store—” The words were halfway out of my mouth when I regretted them.

“Say it—what you’re thinking.” The loneliness evaporated from his expression, replaced by ice.

“I . . . I noticed scars. What happened?” I let the words cascade from my lips. There was no going back now.

Finn was silent beside me, his throat working. A muscle ticked in his cheek, and his lips were pursed as he turned to face me.

“I like hanging out with you. I do. And I want to continue to hang out with you more than I think you realize . . .” His voice was quiet as his inky eyes took in my face. “But don’t ever bring up my scars again.”

I swallowed, a little too loudly. “I’ve got to go.” I had lost myself in whatever this was today.

“I’m sorry.” His voice had softened, but it didn’t matter.

I shot to my feet, snatching up my satchel, the books inside jostling as I turned to leave.

“Morgana . . .”

I paused on the stairs as he said my name but didn’t turn back.

I needed to think without . . . distractions . I had said too much today. I let myself feel too much. The evening was closing in as I stomped back up the darkening hill. What was it about this man?

I thought back to the look in Finn’s eyes when my fingers were curled in his sweatshirt; the feral glint had made me want to throw caution to the wind and kiss those lips. I needed to end whatever held me captive under his spell. His dark eyes and salty scent scrambled my thoughts.

After my past experiences, I had all but sworn off men, but something about him was tearing the cage around my heart open. We seemed drawn to one another, as if some inexplicable force was pulling us into a dangerous dance with destiny. My body responded to him as if it had its own will, and my heart seemed to beat solely for him.

No!

I pushed the thoughts aside. Finn was engaged, and I needed to focus on uncovering everything I could about Selkies—what I’d learned so far wasn’t enough.

I knew that they were seal shapeshifters, but I didn’t know what this had to do with me. I ran my fingers over my arms, where the fur had been. It had been sleek like a seal’s; could that be some key?

I’d heard the Mer singing. I was sure of it. As Aranare had said, these folk tales always stem from some truth, and today, they had sung for me. The memory of their song produced a ripple of sensation that swept over my arms, coaxing goosebumps from my skin. I could not remember the tune, but I knew it had been beautiful and cold, summoned from the deepest ocean caverns. Finn hadn’t heard it, though.

The small print on my left shoulder was my one confirmation that I wasn’t completely mad. The Symbol of the Ocean was still burned in black on my skin. Perhaps that was why I heard the Mer’s song and Finn did not.

Granddad had gone to bed by the time I arrived home, but he’d left me a bowl of fresh fish and microwaved vegetables on the kitchen table. I wolfed it down like a creature of the deep. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. Grabbing a muesli bar and hot tea, I showered and holed up in bed to read more.

Legend of the Selkie

Selkies are literal skin changers. The shedding of their skin makes them human, and the re-dressing turns them back into seals. However, if the Selkie’s skin is lost or stolen, it cannot transform back into a seal. The transformed Selkies are beautiful, thus causing many humans to fall for their spells and attempt to obtain their skins. Legend says that if a human steals a Selkie’s skin, the Selkie will be forced to marry them.

Sometimes, the Selkies have children with their human partners. Selkie and human children are not always born Selkies. However, some possess strange powers. Sometimes, these abilities can skip a generation and return stronger or mutate in distant relatives. In Selkie folklore, Selkie women, known for their peaceful nature, are more likely to be trapped in marriage. The males are renowned for using their good looks to lure women to sea.

Typical. I rolled my eyes.

Like seals, Selkies store oxygen in their blood and muscles. Unlike seals, which need to surface every one to two hours, Selkies can stay under for much longer, sometimes days, without coming up for air.

If Selkies and Mer exist, beware all the good-looking people in this town. I laughed as my mind slipped to Finn—and then Aranare. He was beautiful too.

I still couldn’t grasp how my link to the Selkies had plunged me into the depths of the ocean and then pulled me back out again. Maybe I was descended from one, but exhaustion weighed heavy on my eyelids. I shut the book and tucked it safely beneath my bed.