Page 19 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

17

Morgana

I was running late, but what did it matter? I might be magical—a Selkie. That made everyday life seem trivial, especially Celtic Keepsakes and tourist souvenirs.

But I planned on working today—if only to access Google and meet Aranare for lunch—which meant adhering to nine-to-five hours.

Finn and Skye were hanging outside the store when I got there. Skye was wiping tears from beneath her brown eyes. Her sleek raven hair framed her face, and her bright red pumps shone in the morning sun.

“I was just telling Finn about the McMillan boys. They lived on my parents’ street.” She sniffed.

“What happened?” My brow furrowed as I glanced between them.

“Their boat turned over in yesterday’s storm, and their bodies haven’t been found. This town is no stranger to drownings, but this coming just after we lost those wee kids.” Skye shook her head, wiping mascara-filled droplets from her cheeks with a dainty hand.

A chill caressed my arms. Were these McMillan boys now deep beneath the Atlantic on SS Jones’s Lady ?

I patted Skye on the back, her sadness washing over me, but she sniffed back her tears, mouth curving into a perfectly whitened smile as she looked between me and Finn.

He was watching me, onyx eyes glittering. He was wearing a black hand-cut T-shirt, and I could see his tattoos—see the scars. How he wasn’t freezing, I didn’t know. After his mood swings yesterday, I tried not to look at him— at them.

“I have to get to work,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder, but I stopped at the door and glanced back at Finn. “Don’t you have anything better to do than follow me around this town?”

“Morgana.” His voice cracked.

My key stuck in the lock. Barry really needed to get this door fixed. I jiggled it furiously until I felt Finn’s cold hand atop mine. I froze as his salty scent washed over me. Turning my head, I let my eyes find his. He was so close . His breath warmed my face, and his body . . . his body was pressed against my back. His heart was hammering just as fast as mine, and my stomach fluttered.

“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” he whispered against my cheek. His lips brushed my skin, and the hairs on my neck prickled.

“I—” The words I wanted to say wouldn’t come out. I didn’t even know what those words were. I didn’t know how to deal with these feelings—the ones making me want to punch Finn and run my fingers through his dark hair simultaneously. If I could just open this damn store!

“Trouble in paradise?” Skye’s coo reminded me of her presence, and her glee washed over me. Finn removed his hand from mine and stepped back. I jiggled the key again, and the lock finally gave way.

“Have lunch with me?” Finn’s silken voice asked the question of my back.

“I’ve already made plans.” I didn’t turn around.

“With who?” His tone sharpened, but I ignored him. I let out a long exhale before marching inside.

The center was quiet, but after glancing at the clear sky, I decided to do my research now, just in case the impossible happened and customers showed up.

The computer at the counter had internet access, so I opened Google Images and typed “Selkie.” Hundreds of artists’ paintings of perfectly formed naked women shedding their skin appeared. They seemed to have curves in all the right places. I looked down at my own body; I had small breasts and could have been described as lanky. I didn’t look anything like these women. They all had dark hair, and mine was red.

I shrugged and typed “seals.” Images of the animals filled the screen—some basking on rocks, others peeking up from the waves. Their large, black eyes had a human quality, reminding me of Finn’s. I studied photos of seals sleeping on land and in water. If I was part Selkie, maybe that’s why I slept when the Drowned didn’t.

I continued scrolling. Most pictures were of fluffy white seal pups, which were cute but didn’t offer me any more clues. Then, an image caught my eye. Something about this seal’s mottled gray coloring seemed strangely familiar.

I froze, scared to believe I might have found an answer.

“You’re actually meeting someone!” Skye exclaimed, noticing I was grabbing my keys from under the counter.

I shrugged as I headed for the door.

“I thought you made that up to annoy Finn. He totally likes you.”

“He’s engaged , remember?” I shook my head, hanging up the “BACK SOON” sign on the glass.

She trotted behind me. “Have you seen her?” She craned her neck around the center as if she expected to see Finn and his fiancée somewhere, sharing a hot drink.

I shook my head.

“I still think he likes you.” Skye chewed on her cheek, following me up the lane of shops. I guess she was coming to lunch.

When we arrived at the café, it was humming with the muted sounds of the few other diners and the occasional clink of cutlery. I scanned the tables for Aranare, but he hadn’t arrived yet.

The air was filled with the aroma of freshly battered fish, chips, and coffee. I let myself take it in. If my theory was correct, this could be my last day on land for a while. Skye and I ordered salads with calamari. The salty, slick squid brought my meals under the sea to mind as it slid down my throat.

Skye had done the inevitable and moved in with Parker, and he had done the predictable and was spending most nights out in Campbeltown without calling.

“You know, Parker’s got a great job. What do I have? I work at a tartan store.” Skye pushed her salad around her plate and sighed.

I didn’t reply. My heart was thundering. Soon, I would learn more about my father. And then later . . .

“I think he’ll grow out of it,” she continued. “He might do it for the first couple of years, but in the end, I win out over other girls because I have the house and the security.”

“I suppose,” I tried to agree as I scanned the other diners for any sign of Aranare.

“You came,” a voice said from behind me.

Aranare was carrying an open cooler filled with silvery fish. Their smell washed over me, and I clasped the edges of the table to stop myself from grabbing one.

“I wasn’t sure if you would show up, but I’m glad you did.” He set the cooler beside us, grinning as the muscles in his bronzed arms flexed. Skye was watching him, too.

“Don’t tell me this is who you’re meeting?” She tilted her head to take him in.

So not subtle!

“I’m Aranare.” He held out his hand to her. “My uncle owns this café.”

“I hear your family owns this whole town.” I laughed, but my knuckles were white against the table as I battled against the delicious aroma of fresh fish.

“Aye, pretty much.” He shrugged. “Calamari salad. Nice choice.” He plucked an uneaten piece from Skye’s bowl, and she threw him a red-lipped smile. Aranare’s brow furrowed as he surveyed her. “Where are your people from?”

“Here.” She simpered, looking up at him from under her lashes.

“Really?” He looked surprised, which I thought was odd. Maybe he was wondering why he’d never met her before.

Skye didn’t seem to notice; she was busy adjusting her sleek tresses. “Morgana is meeting cute boys everywhere she goes these days.” She tilted her head, toying with a strand of hair.

“Way to make me feel special.” Aranare winked at me.

I flushed but found myself looking over my shoulder at the pawnshop. Finn was leaning against the doorway, watching us, a look of cool disdain on his face.

“Morgana and Finn have a thing ,” Skye crooned.

Aranare glanced over and caught Finn’s eye, nodding curtly. Finn didn’t return it. He simply strode inside.

“Do you know each other?” I searched Aranare’s brown eyes.

“Aye, I know him.” His words were clipped, and he ran a hand through his chestnut curls.

“He’s always hanging around Morgana.” Skye chirped.

I shot her a warning glare.

Aranare gazed at me. “He’s not right for you, Morgana.”

“And why’s that?” Skye’s eyes widened with glee.

“Our families have known each other for years.” He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. “He’s a troubled person . . . you won’t be able to change him.” He sighed.

“Firstly, you only met me yesterday, so you can’t say who is or isn’t right for me. Secondly, I thought you were going to tell me about my father?” I grumbled, pushing my empty bowl aside.

“Aye.” Aranare’s eyes softened. “We are going to the library. First, let me drop off these fish.” He hoisted the cooler back up.

Skye leaned into my space as soon as he’d retreated. “Where did you find him ?”

“At the bookstore,” I muttered, watching him help the serving lady pack the fish away.

“It almost makes me want to take up reading.” She giggled. “I’m coming with you. I’ve had like one customer today.”

We followed Aranare back to the entrance of the outdoor complex and toward the public library. Skye was prattling on about something, but I wasn’t listening. The blood was thrumming in my ears again.

“What’s in the library?” I asked suddenly. I couldn’t take it anymore. Aranare halted, and Skye’s burbling trailed off.

“Well, the local news archives.” He shrugged. “I could tell you what I remember about your father’s death from when I was fourteen, but I thought it would be better to get the paper from that day.”

“Oh.” My stomach curdled.

Aranare and Skye kept walking, but I remained frozen. The mild midday sun suddenly felt like it was blaring down on the back of my neck. I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.

“Morgana?” Aranare turned to me.

Skye glanced between us.

“Just tell me what happened. I need to know.” My voice sounded raspy. Why was my throat so dry?

“He drowned,” Aranare said matter-of-factly, as if there was no easier way to divulge it.

Drowned . I swallowed. Is that why I awoke in the Kingdom of the Drowned? Is my father somewhere on that great ship?

“I want to see the paper.”

I marched past them toward the sliding glass doors leading into the refurbished stone library, whipping my head left and right as the artificial heating hit me. There were rows and rows of books. Where were the archives?

“This way.” Aranare nodded at the shelves to our right. There were stacks and stacks of newspapers—a pile for each year. Some were freshly printed, and others bronzed with age. The pages had been piled by date and looped together with pieces of string through punched holes.

I kneeled on the scratchy carpet and rifled frantically through one of the piles on the lower shelf. There was no method to my madness.

Aranare put a warm hand on my shoulder. I shook him off.

1989, 1997, 2001 . . . What year did he even die? I didn’t know. My mom hadn’t told me anything . Hot tears burned my cheeks.

“It would have been in 2005,” Aranare said softly, as if he had read my mind.

2005, the year I was born, was the year we left Ruadán’s Port. This . . . this had to be the reason—my father’s death.

“I’ve found the year,” Skye said, her voice quiet as she pulled a stack of pages from one of the piles. She laid it gently in front of me with her perfectly manicured hands.

Ruadán’s Port News. I ran my trembling hands over the issue on the top of the stack but couldn’t bring myself to search further.

Aranare knelt beside me and gently took the heap from me. Skye crouched on my other side and put one of her dainty hands on the small of my back.

I drew in a short sob as Aranare started flipping through the papers. My heart was pounding, and tears blurred my vision as he drew out the issue he sought. He flicked through the pages until he stopped, and my breath caught in my chest as I read the headline: “Local Man Drowns While Intoxicated.”

There beneath the headline was his picture. Though the paper was golden with age, I could make out his red hair and green eyes. He had copper stubble on his cheeks and a pleasant face. He was smiling, and the lines bunched at the sides of his eyes made him look kind.

“I can’t.” I shoved the paper away.

Aranare began reading. “A fisherman from Ruadán’s Port has drowned while acutely intoxicated . . .” He paused. I could feel his eyes on me. I nodded for him to continue.

“Rory Balfour, 28, was walking home from The Port House on the evening of October 6, 2005.”

The Port House. The pub I’d sat in only yesterday. My father could have sat in that same booth.

“Witnesses reported him leaving the establishment at around 9 p.m. He had been drinking heavily, celebrating the purchase of an expensive engagement ring. His body has not been found, but the ring was discovered on the shore near Merrow Rocks.”

He was going to propose to her. The ugly antique ring my mother wore around her neck, the one she was always touching—tarnished silver with a deep-blue stone. My chest ached. It was no wonder she didn’t want to come back to this place, where she would search every face for Rory’s. It was no wonder she had become so hardened, so untrusting.

“But why didn’t she just tell me?” I asked aloud.

“Perhaps it was too hard,” Skye said gently, her hand still on the small of my back.

“There’s something else . . .” Aranare’s throat bobbed as he surveyed me.

“What?” My voice was sharp as my eyes flicked to his.

“I was helping my uncle bring in a catch the night he died.” Aranare paused. “At what must have been a similar time to your dad’s departure from the pub, we heard music, beautiful music, and there was a strange light. It illuminated the ocean and sky, and then it was gone. Something about that night has stayed with me all these years.”

Beautiful music. My heart thundered in my ears. Mer . Could the Mer have had something to do with my father’s death?