Page 21 of Sea of Evil and Desire (The Deep Saga #1)

19

Morgana

T he grocery store was devoid of customers. I grabbed a basket and strolled the neon aisles, wondering what Granddad would need while I was away: milk, bread, vegetables . . .

My father, a man I had known nothing about my entire life, suddenly had a face and a story—a story in which he loved my mother, and perhaps me, too. Was he somewhere in the Kingdom of the Drowned? Maybe I had passed him already without realizing it. These thoughts only deepened my resolve.

“Morgana—”

I froze, my fingers resting on a can of spaghetti. I knew that deep voice and the turmoil it created inside me. Finn .

“Following me again?” I muttered, shaking off the feelings and tossing the can into my basket.

He didn’t reply. His chest was heaving beneath his black coat, and his hair was astray. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and then released it. It looked as if he was going to say something, but then he turned away from me, his lace-up army-style boots squeaking on the vinyl shop floor.

“Finn,” I put my mood aside and spoke his name gently.

“Why were you having lunch with him ?” He turned back to me, his face blanched. I couldn’t sense his feelings, but the disturbance in his mind was evident in his drawn brows.

“Who I have lunch with is none of your business.” A surge of anger flared through me.

I brushed past him down the household aisle, tossing laundry detergent into my basket. Finn followed me. Did I need anything else? Oh, right, toilet paper. My cheeks flushed. Granddad could get that.

Finn blocked my path as I headed for the counter, leaning one arm on a wooden crate stacked with vegetables and brushing his dark hair from his face. His chest was still heaving, and the neon lights made him look paler than usual.

“I am not good at this.” He ground the words out as if it were my fault he had to come here and say them.

I was frozen between his taut body and the shop counter. A muscle in the side of his jaw worked as he rubbed his forehead again.

I didn’t know what to make of this, but I smiled encouragingly, because he looked so . . . broken.

“Amor perdot nos.” Finn muttered the words almost to himself.

“What?” I looked at him in utter confusion.

“Just something my mother used to say.” He ran another hand through his hair.

“I . . .” he started, then spun on his heel to turn away from me as if he’d thought better of it. When he turned back, his face was a cold mask. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry for taking up your time.” His expression betrayed not a flicker of emotion as he strode toward the store’s glass doors.

Was this all because I’d had lunch with Aranare? No, it couldn’t be.

As I stepped out into the cool autumn air, clutching my groceries in a paper bag, part of me wondered if I should go after him, but I didn’t have time. I had a sunset to meet.

I took the stairs two at a time. Barging into my bedroom, I threw on my grandmother’s long fur coat. I’d been wearing it the day I fell deep into the sea, and it was the only thing that returned with me.

Heading downstairs, I stopped at the entrance to the living area. “I am staying at Finn’s for a couple of nights,” I yelled, continuing to the door so I didn’t have to face Granddad, who was reading the paper by the fire. He grumbled, but I was shutting the door behind me before he could protest.

My lie would only buy me a few days. What then? Would he call Officer Wilson or my mother?

I couldn’t think about the consequences now.

I had a few questions for Granddad, but they could wait until another day. I had to test my theory, and time was running out.

The bay was deserted, and the sky darkened as angry clouds moved in to oppress it—another storm. I let the sounds and smells wash over me, searching for the sensations I’d experienced the last time. Nothing.

As the last light faded, I discarded my shoes at the bottom of the rocks and ran barefoot across the sand. The black clouds obscured the setting sun. Was I too late?

My entire body was alert, searching for the roaring wind, the music of the Drowned, and oblivion . But still, I felt nothing.

The surf crashed against the hem of my coat, but everything remained the same.

Selkies can only transform at dawn or dusk; in these in-between times, they are at their most powerful.

Perhaps I was mistaken, and this coat was not the key to the underwater realm. No . I shook these thoughts away. I had to be correct.

The water was biting cold, but I didn’t care; the pain matched my disappointment.

Perhaps the gateway was only open during Samhain, and it will be a year before I can return.

I swallowed.

I didn’t want to give up. The wet fur flapped listlessly in the water at my sides as I recited the passage from the book that I suspected confirmed my theory: “Selkies and human children are not always born Selkies. Sometimes, these powers can skip a generation, returning stronger or mutating in distant relatives.”

I stiffened . The wind . It was once again yanking at my hair like it had hands. A roaring filled my ears, and my control slipped away as the tide crashed over me.

Come ye drunken sailors to the bottom of the sea.

This time, I did not fear. My father was singing for me.

Then everything faded into nothing.