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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

A warm stripe of light crossed Madeleine’s face through a crack in the curtains.

She squinted as she opened her eyes.

It was sunny outside?

Seriously?

A soft laugh escaped her before she rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty.

H?ra was gone.

For a moment, her heart fell.

Then she remembered H?ra kissing her cheek and leaving much earlier in the morning.

What time was it?

One look at her phone told her it was 8:35.

Not as late as she’d thought, but she and Jonathan were supposed to have breakfast together while H?ra worked in the fields.

He was probably wondering where Madeleine was.

Madeleine bit her lip.

Maybe she wasn’t up to facing Jonathan anyway.

The events of last night must be written all over her face.

A smile crossed her face.

It grew bigger. Then it turned into an actual giggle.

Good grief. This wasn’t a moment for giggling.

She’d done it. They’d done it, herself and H?ra, what Madeleine had been yearning to do for so long—and what H?ra had clearly yearned for too.

I want only you, she’d said.

I’ll have only you .

Madeleine touched the side of her throat.

H?ra had bitten and sucked her there.

She pressed down with her fingertips and inhaled at the soreness.

H?ra had wanted to mark her.

Madeleine had felt the same.

At the thought of H?ra with another lover, some kind of frenzy had seized her, and nothing eased it until she knew H?ra was hers alone.

And then…later…after H?ra had a nightmare, there had been comfort and teasing, as soft as the sex had been sharp.

No. This was no laughing matter.

It might, however, be occasion for joy.

Joy wasn’t the same thing as happiness: happiness could be something you didn’t necessarily feel , but was an overall state of being you hoped to attain.

A low, steady fire burning in the hearth all day.

Joy was a flaming torch.

It inevitably went out, but while it lasted, it dazzled with heat and light.

Madeleine, greedy for light, would hold on to this torch as long as she could.

Maybe H?ra didn’t like fire, but she’d certainly put up with it last night.

Besides, it was just a metaphor.

She looked at the other side of the bed where H?ra had lain, holding her.

And had that nightmare.

H?ra had always said she never slept, much less dreamed, but last night she clearly had.

A night of firsts for both of them.

They could talk more about that later.

Madeleine should get moving.

It would have been…nice…

to wake up still snuggled in H?ra’s arms. But it was nice to have time for herself too: to prepare herself for whatever this new day brought.

There was one thing she wouldn’t do, however.

She wouldn’t spiral.

She wouldn’t panic like she had after their kiss in the alley.

Yes, she and H?ra had gone farther the night before than she’d intended to.

Much farther. A panic attack would be an understandable reaction, especially given everything she’d been wrestling with.

Wrestling with H?ra had been much more thrilling, though.

More than thrilling, it had felt right.

So like their first kiss, that night on the beach years ago.

That had felt sanctioned, sanctified, divine—and it was just a kiss.

Last night, when H?ra had come on Madeleine’s fingers, calling out her pleasure, it had felt like ascending to an even higher heaven.

The old, cold feeling of shame tugged at her with frozen fingers.

Madeleine took a deep breath and pulled free of them.

Not right now. Shame was for certainty, and certainty was its own kind of sin.

There would be time later for shame, if it came to that.

But maybe it wouldn’t.

The sun was out this morning.

It was occasion for joy.

To Madeleine’s surprise, Jonathan was still in his pajamas when she arrived.

He stood at the kitchen sink with a cup of coffee in his hands.

His gaze was fixed upon the window.

Madeleine cleared her throat.

He didn’t move. She cleared it more loudly, and then he twitched and turned around, his eyes widening.

She took a hesitant step into the kitchen.

This was strange. Jonathan slept later than H?ra and the farmhands, but he was always up and dressed by now.

“Good morning. Am I here too early?”

“No,” he said quickly.

“Sorry. I lost track of the time. I knew you were coming over, didn’t I?”

He wasn’t usually so scattered.

“Um, you said I should, yes.”

“Right, right.” He ran a hand over his balding head.

“Coffee? I’ve not made my fry-up yet.”

“Coffee sounds good, thanks.” A greasy fry-up didn’t, and besides, Jonathan looked exhausted.

She didn’t feel right having him wait on her.

“Please don’t go to any extra trouble for breakfast. Cereal’s fine. In fact, I’m happy to get it myself.”

“No, no, sit down. No trouble at all, let me just get my head together, I…” Jonathan glanced around the kitchen, looking restless.

“Strange night. I couldn’t sleep. Then H?ra told me we’ve had some mischief round the place.”

“What?”

Madeleine listened, astonished, as Jonathan told her about muddy footprints beneath his window.

He insisted he wasn’t worried, that it was just some childish prank from a villager.

“No matter where you are, there’s always foolish lads, aren’t there? I was one, once upon a time…I remember…”

She ignored his request to sit—he didn’t seem to notice—and fixed herself a bowl of Weetabix while he talked.

By the time she sat down with her breakfast, Jonathan had finished his story and looked a little more settled, although there were bags under his eyes.

“We all made some silly decisions when we were young,” she said lightly.

A shadow crossed his eyes.

“Aye, so we did.”

“In fact…” How did you bring up something like this?

“Um, I think you asked me here today so we could talk about what happened when you were younger. With another Each-uisge . Right?”

Jonathan pursed his lips and looked down at his coffee.

He’d barely touched it.

It must be cold by now.

“Not much to tell.”

He couldn’t be serious.

Not much to tell about an encounter with a supernatural creature?

Especially to the one person on this island who might understand?

“I don’t want to push,” she lied.

“But it’d be nice to compare notes, right? We could learn something from each other.”

He shrugged.

Just yesterday he’d said they should talk about this.

What had changed? “Perhaps, perhaps not. Your situation’s completely different to mine.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean?—”

“H?ra’s different.”

The name sent a jolt through Madeleine’s body.

The look in Jonathan’s eyes said he’d intended it to.

“I’ve seen how you are with each other,” he said.

“I’d be blind not to. And she was different when she came in this morning…from your place.”

Madeleine’s face heated as surely as if she were back in front of that fireplace, with H?ra on top of her.

Jonathan gave a little smile.

“Just so.”

“I…” She looked down into her coffee.

Remember the joy, she told herself, remember how right it felt, but words only went so far.

The old shame, kneaded into her soul by unkind hands, rose.

“No, no,” he said quickly.

His hand covered her wrist while she clutched her coffee cup.

“I’m happy for you both. I hope you are too? It’s not too hard, is it?”

Thin, almost translucent hairs covered Jonathan’s wrist and the back of his hands.

That was something to look at, instead of into his eyes.

“It’s all pretty unexpected.”

Jonathan snorted.

“I’m sure. Look up, now. Our H?ra’s a good one, even if she is odd. And you’re all the world to her.”

At that, Madeleine did look up.

Jonathan’s eyes were wide and earnest. His earlier exhaustion seemed to have vanished; he was much more like himself.

At least, the self he’d become after H?ra came into his life.

“I’m not all her world,” Madeleine said.

H?ra herself had said, on the beach, all the things she loved.

“But that’s good. I shouldn’t be. And she’s not just odd—she is different from me.” The mug was hot against her palms as she held it even tighter.

“From us.”

They regarded each other in silence, for a moment.

“Aye,” Jonathan said heavily.

“There’s no changing that.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen. How long I can stay. Even if I did—even if somehow we worked this out?—”

And what would “working it out” mean?

Hadn’t Madeleine said, only yesterday, that it was too early for love?

That meant it was way too early to think about…

whatever this was. A long-term commitment to someone outside her own species?

She swallowed. “She won’t get older. People will notice.”

“I know.” Jonathan bowed his head, as if in defeat.

What else could he do?

It was only the truth.

Maybe now Madeleine could have that panic attack.

It wouldn’t be useful, but at least this situation deserved it.

“She can’t go back to the sea, can she? Her own family tried to kill her. What’s she supposed to do?”

There had to be a plan.

H?ra could lie in Madeleine’s bed, their naked bodies could glide together, their mouths could mate.

They could roam the island hand-in-hand and talk about anything.

But, even if they wanted to, they couldn’t grow old together.

What then?

“There’s money,” Jonathan said quietly.

“More than she knows, I think. That bloody trow means we do all right.”

Madeleine had never seen the trow.

Just something else she wasn’t ready for.

“I set aside some for her every month,” Jonathan continued.

It took Madeleine only a moment to understand.

“So she can leave.”

“Aye, if I don’t die in time.” At Madeleine’s startled look, he added, “I mean if I live long enough so folk notice she doesn’t age, and then she has to run before she can inherit the lot.”

“Doesn’t she already own at least part of it?” After all, H?ra’s treasure chest had paid for the place.

Jonathan shook his head.

“We didn’t have her birth certificate when I bought, and I was nervous that folk might look too close. I offered later, but she wasn’t interested. Now at least I can give her enough to get started.”

Another silence between them held the truth.

It would only be a start.

And there was something else to consider.

“She told me she can’t go inland,” Madeleine said in a low voice.

“She loses her strength if she’s too far from the ocean. That limits her options.”

Jonathan leaned back with a gusty sigh and crossed his arms. His pajamas seemed too baggy on him.

“I know. There’s islands with few people and always have been. The Hebrides might suit for a while.”

For a while, until she had to leave there too.

H?ra would have to roam the world for centuries in a borrowed form, alone.

There were probably worse fates, but at the moment it was hard to think of one.

Unless…

“Maybe that’s far enough away from her family,” Madeleine ventured.

But even if it was, would it be any easier for H?ra to survive the sea by herself?

“Maybe there are more Each-uisge somewhere else, and she could find a new herd and be safe.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

The look they exchanged said it all.

What did “safety” mean where H?ra was concerned?

If she wasn’t like humans, she wasn’t like her own kind either.

That was how she’d ended up here.

“Have you two talked about this?” Madeleine managed.

“I’ve tried, but she puts me off. She’s always said that when you came back, everything’d be sorted. She never told me how.” Jonathan sighed again.

“Maybe you can make her see sense when I couldn’t. You’re a practical lass. Suited to this, I’d think.”

A strange weight settled on Madeleine, then.

As if Jonathan had taken a heavy mantle off his shoulders and placed it on her own.

He was worried about H?ra.

He was old, and probably not in the best shape from decades of drinking.

Now here Madeleine was, younger and with a deep connection to H?ra.

Jonathan wanted her to take over and figure out what to do with the woman he’d sometimes called his daughter.

Ah, there was the panic.

It snapped and bit at Madeleine’s insides.

She said, haltingly, “I’ll try to, but…there’s only so much I can do.”

Jonathan gave her a sharp look.

“Or anyone,” Madeleine added.

Her palms were getting damp.

I’m not ready for this, she wanted to plead with him.

I can’t take responsibility for this.

She was just re-learning how to be responsible for herself, for heaven’s sake.

“No?” he said. “Let me tell you what I know.”

His eyes were as piercing, now, as H?ra’s had ever been.

Madeleine sat up straight and faced him squarely back.

“Okay,” she said.

“There’s ties that can’t be cut. If you try, you learn they’re your veins and you bleed out. And I don’t believe in your God, but I know there’s something outside ourselves as puts things in our keeping.”

Her heart thundered in her chest like a storm, or a herd of wild horses.

“And you think H?ra’s been put into mine? I hope you haven’t told her that. She’d hate it.”

“Would she? The lass thinks you’ve been put in her keeping too. And so you were.”

Madeleine dug her hands into the fabric of her jeans.

“How can you know a thing like that?”

His eyes were hooded.

“Experience.”

Footsteps sounded beyond the kitchen door.

H?ra was returning from the morning’s first work and kicking the mud from her boots.

Jonathan lowered his voice.

“Just remember: what’s for you won’t go by you.”

“Yes, but?—”

The door banged open.

They both turned. H?ra stepped in, tall confidence and swagger, someone who didn’t see the future coming at her like a bullet.

“Good morning.” Her voice was warm, and her eyes were too, as she looked at Madeleine.

“Glad to see you up and about. How did you sleep?”

How did you?

Madeleine didn’t ask.

Best not to bring up the nightmare.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Good. Jonathan knows I spent the night, by the way.” H?ra sounded apologetic.

“I didn’t tell him, but he worked it out.”

At least the cold sensation in Madeleine’s stomach vanished when her face heated up again.

“Um, yes, I know.”

“Just as well.” H?ra sat down and slouched back in the chair, smiling openly now.

“He told me human sexuality is meant to be private, but I am very happy about it, and I don’t think I can hide it.”

Madeleine swallowed a gasp, even as a warm wave swallowed her.

H?ra’s eyes were bright with pleasure now that she was here, with Madeleine, at this table.

Put in your keeping, and you in hers .

H?ra had spoken, often, of keeping Madeleine safe.

Protecting her. Shielding her from the wind, catching her when she fell.

It seemed to delight her.

It came so naturally to her.

As if Madeleine was for her, and H?ra wouldn’t let her go by.

She’d always believed that.

“So am I,” Madeleine said.

Her voice was low, but it didn’t shake.

“No need to hide anything at all.”