“It’s straight down the boardwalk at the end of the pier.”
Before Immanuel could gather his wits or check his vivalabe, Adam shoved his suitcase into his hands and pulled him to his feet. Stepping onto the station platform, Immanuel drew in a long breath. His heart slowed at the taste of briny sea salt coating his lips and teeth as they walked along the promenade past tidy shops and nearly deserted beaches. Somehow this felt right. Water and air, a little voice whispered beneath the distant rumble of thunder. Immanuel swung his bag, his sleep-drunk mind lingering on the ashy clouds gathering in the sky above a magnificent hotel carved like a sandcastle in the town center. If he closed his eyes, he could smell the earthen perfume of petrichor and the sense the hum of energy in the air. Whether it was from the storm or a practioner nearby, he couldn’t tell, but he let himself be engulfed until his entire body resonated with its power.
“There it is,” Adam said.
Looking up, Immanuel found a set of massive wooden steps giving way to a long pier. Waves rocked against the wooden pilings, sending jolts through the boards below their feet. Immanuel clamped a hand on his top hat as the wind whipped off the sea. Shivering, Immanuel put his head down against the assault, his eyes roaming for anywhere they could seek shelter. While the town appeared to have every amenity, it was a holiday spot, and from the solitary pier, it was clear that very few in the off season needed to venture past the shore. On a bench near the final pair of rough pillars, Immanuel resisted the urge to huddle against Adam’s side. The bitter damp seeped into his wool coat and put a sheen of moisture and salt across his cheeks. Beside him, Adam looked out to the water, the upturned collar of his coat accentuated the fine cut of his jaw. Across the pier near the rail, a woman sat with a basket perched on her knees.
“Can you see the boat?” Immanuel asked, his voice struggling against the wind.
Through the roiling clouds, a pale light flickered. Squinting, Adam could barely make out a hint of color, but the light never bobbed with the rhythm of the sea.
“I think it’s only the lighthouse.”
“It should be here soon.”
Immanuel and Adam turned to find the woman watching them with an amused look. She gripped the railing and hauled herself to her feet. As she stood, she held her belly and released a puff of breath. Upon realizing she was with child, Adam trotted to her side and put out his arm for her. Thanking him under her breath, she looked past him to lock eyes with Immanuel. A ripple of familiarity passed through him, but he couldn’t place her. Her cheeks were soft and her mouth and brows straight, lending her face a natural gravity. Her russet hair had been twisted into elaborate knots and braids that felt at odds with her simple dress and worn fur coat. There was something about her, perhaps it was the way she held herself or the faint hint of an accent, where she stressed her consonants a moment too long, that was so familiar.
Leaning against the rail, she still held Adam’s arm but let her weight fall against the dock. “Where are you headed?”
“Seolh-wiga Island.”
“Really? What for? You know the boat only goes out there twice a day on Mondays, so you’ll be trapped until next week.”
“Are you serious?” Adam asked, his henna brows knitting.
“You didn’t know?”
“We’re meeting someone there for a business meeting. It was short notice.”
Immanuel’s eyes darted between the woman and his lover, unsure how much he should divulge. “Thank you for the information, Mrs.—”
“Mrs.— Miss Larkin, Greta Larkin. I’m happy to be of help and have a spot of company. It isn’t exactly a short trip.”
“Where is everyone?”
“All the locals are in the pub. I’m surprised you didn’t go there yourselves.”
The German’s cheeks pinkened. “We didn’t know.”
She nodded. “I’m not surprised. Visitors to the island have been few and far between lately, except for you two and that other fellow. Not many live there to begin with, but…”
She shrugged and readjusted the wicker basket on her arm. Before Adam could ask her anything more, a foghorn tooted in the distance. Through the mist appeared the black helm of a small, antiquated model of steam ship Immanuel recognized as a cousin of the type he had seen used on the Rhine. From what he remembered, it was incredibly loud, very smoky, and rather slow. The red wheel at the back chopped at the water, kicking up murky surf until with a few dying whoops, it settled into relative calm. Smoke billowed out of the chimney stack, coating the dock in a grimy fog. With Britain being one of the wealthiest countries in the world, Immanuel wondered how they had yet to modernize their ferry service with a new boat, but then again he remembered Miss Larkin said it was only locals who used it.
At the sound of the horn blasting once more, voices rose on the wind as the rest of the passengers left the pub. As the boat slipped into the dock, a ruddy-faced man, his skin lined from years at sea, jumped out to tie the ropes to the dock and drop the ramp out for the ladies to use. With a nod, Miss Larkin released Adam and took the boatman’s hand to step into the ferry.
Adam stared down at the bobbing gap between the boat and the dock. In the minute space where they didn’t quite meet, he locked onto the roiling waves. Through their murky depths, he could make out the occasional shadow of a fish or the nonsensical image conjured up by his fearful mind, visions of faces or hands trapped beneath the surf. Immanuel and the rest of the villagers lingered over his shoulder, their eyes burning into the back of his head. Immanuel’s hand stirred at his side, but he clasped them behind his back. Adam briefly wondered if it would had been a reassuring pat on the arm or a shove on the back. Swallowing hard, Adam hopped over the gap. His suitcase slapped against the cabin as he stumbled forward. The deckhand chuckled under his breath, catching Immanuel’s eye as he easily stepped onto the deck. The ship was barely more than a long cabin lined with windows and four narrow pews. Adam went to offer Miss Larkin his arm to escort her inside when the boat jolted to life again. He lurched forward, but she and Immanuel caught him before he could pitch into the metal wall.
“Don’t have sea legs, sir?” she asked with a knowing grin.
“I suppose not,” Adam replied, though he wished his pride would let him say that he had never been on a boat or out at sea or anything past the shore. His stomach flipped with the seesaw of the deck beneath his feet. “Shall we—” He swallowed hard. “Shall we go inside?”
“You can, but I’m going to stay out here.” Greta stared out at the water and the lighthouse in the distance. Her silhouette cut through the grey sky and removed all doubt from his mind that she could do without their support. “It will be too cold soon, and I don’t want to waste the few days I have.”
“But in your state, shouldn’t you—“
Immanuel squeezed Adam’s arm as the boat began its slow chug into the mist. “Shall we take your basket, Miss Larkin? We can store it with our luggage and keep it dry.”
Murmuring her thanks, Greta handed over her heavy wicker basket without taking her eyes off the horizon. Adam stumbled toward the door to the narrow cabin, wrenching it open to let Immanuel pass through. A few people raised their gazes to them before returning back to their conversations. Near the door, they found an empty bench free from the prying ears of their fellow passengers. Carefully placing the basket between their suitcases to keep it from sliding, Immanuel motioned for his companion to take a seat. Adam sank into the wooden bench, flicking a piece of peeling white paint off the seat as he fought the urge to gag. Feeling himself green, he looked up to find Immanuel watching him with a cheeky grin.
“Don’t give me that look,” Adam snapped. “You are the odd one, not me. I don’t know how you don’t want to puke your guts out.”
“Because I have been on a boat before. My father liked to take me and Johanna fishing.”
Adam scoffed and shuddered at the thought.
As Adam drew in steady breaths and stared at the boards, Imm
anuel watched as an island materialized through the fog. Near the dock were row after row of bright houses like the ones they had seen in town and behind them a centuries-old church towering in the distance. His mind meandered to their vacation in Dorset that summer, the hours spent at the water’s edge until their skin began to peel and Adam’s freckles disappeared beneath a haze of red. A bell clanged somewhere above them as one of the crew called out the name of their next stop. Immanuel’s heart sank, realizing the picturesque village wasn’t meant for them. He tucked his legs in as most of the passengers filed out before, with a lurch, the boat continued on its way. Leaning against the metal sill beneath the window, Immanuel watched Miss Larkin on the deck. She hadn’t moved from where they left her, even after the mass exodus of passengers. Her body swayed in time with the water as if it was as natural as land.
“I wonder where her husband is,” Immanuel whispered. “Women who are that far along don’t usually go out unless they must. I hope he isn’t negligent. She seems nice.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Did you notice what she said before? She said misses, then corrected herself.”
“A widow?”
Adam tipped forward as the boat pitched from side to side, a loud scraping emanating beneath their feet. Before he could hit the planks, Immanuel latched onto his arm and hauled him back. In an instant, the boat righted, turning Adam’s face a deeper shade of sickly grey, and continued on its puttering course.
He swallowed hard. “I guess that is possible, though she wasn’t wearing widow’s weeds. Or she could…”
Turning back to get a better look at her, Immanuel found the deck behind them empty. “Where did she go?”
Before Adam could stand to look, Immanuel threw open the cabin door, letting it fall back against the wall with a clank. Adam darted out after him, grabbing whatever surface he could as he followed him around the perimeter of the pitching deck, but it was empty apart from them. As Adam turned his attention skyward toward the captain’s perch, Immanuel gasped.
“There! Look!” he cried, pointing to a reddish shape bobbing in the water behind the boat. “Stop! Turn the boat!”
His voice died beneath the cacophonous roar of the engine and the wafts of smoke and wind. Immanuel looked between the shrinking figure and the upper deck. Whipping off his coat, Immanuel kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the rail when a hand clamped around his belt.
“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Adam cried. “That water is freezing!”
“Do you want her to freeze to death instead, Adam?”
His mouth tightened, but in one swift motion, he grabbed the life preserver off the side of the ship and shoved it into his lover’s hand. “I will get the captain. Just don’t— Be careful.”
“I will. When I tug the rope, pull us back.”
When Adam nodded, Immanuel jettisoned off the deck and plunged into the icy water. Immanuel surface with a rough gasp, the shock of the frigid water paralyzing him for a moment until he thought his heart would hammer out of his chest. Blinking the water from his eyes, he paddled forward blindly. With each dip of the water, he lost sight of her. The tide rushed against him, slowing his strokes and infiltrating every layer of clothing until he feared he would sink beneath their weight. Waiting, his muscles ached and his limbs shook, but the moment he saw her russet hair, he pressed on.
“Miss Larkin!” he cried as the rope on the life preserver grew taught. “Miss Larkin, come to me if you can!”
Her grey eyes widened as she spun toward him. The waves lapped against her face as she coughed, threatening to swallow her up with each crest. Struggling to paddle against her heavy fur coat, she lurched forward, her face ashen and her cheeks red.
“Greta, give me your hand,” Immanuel call, as she released a cry that was cut off by the gurgle of water. “Adam will pull us back.”
Her jaw chattered and her eyes went wide with each slow stroke forward, but as their hands nearly touched, the waves peaked and shoved her back.
She gagged, tears mingling with seawater. “I can’t!”
The water. Immanuel stared at the water, his mind synchronizing with the rhythm of the waves. He had done it with the cup of tea at work, so maybe, he could do it here. He closed his eyes, giving in to the natural metronome until with a click, his mind snagged the energy. With an exhalation the water rose up over his head before dropping down far enough that Greta tumbled toward him. Gritting his teeth, Immanuel extended his arm as far as he could reach. His nose burned and his temple flared with pain as he pushed against the water with his mind. The moment their fingers laced, the energy ripped away with a gasp of breath. He pulled her closer, wrapping an aching arm around her thickened waist while desperately tugging on the ring. Her body shook against his side, her legs kicking futilely with his to keep them afloat. Immanuel’s head swam as he tightened his grip on the life preserver. He had gotten to her, but his arms felt somewhere between lead and jelly while the world darkened and spotted. Watching the boat come into view, Immanuel pressed his forehead to the ring. His arm slipped on Miss Larkin, but she quickly tightened her grip on his neck.
As a wave crashed over them, Immanuel’s hand slipped from the ring. His heart sputtered as he dove forward to catch it before it drifted from reach when something brushed against his hip. Grasping the life preserver, his eyes widened as a grey head peeked out of the waves. It’s doe eyes regarded him before disappearing below the surface only to reappear a few feet away. It circled them, always staying little more than an arm’s length away until they reached the barnacle-spotted hull.
Leaning over the rail, Adam and the deckhand grasped Miss Larkin by her cold limbs and hauled her aboard. Immanuel clung to the side of the ship, his frozen fingers barely holding onto the rope he could no longer feel. For a moment, he merely hovered there with his face pressed against the metal hull, drifting. Someone was speaking to him, but he could scarcely hear through his labored breath and the churn of the engine. Chattering his teeth, he stared up at the redheaded man. He knew him. Immanuel’s mind wandered into a place as cold and blank as his limbs. The man above him stuck out a hand to pull him up as the captain yelled something, but it was so much easier to stay still. To let go.
Before he could drift, hands ripped him out of the water and threw him onto the deck like a fish. Gasping at the cold air rushing over his body, Immanuel curled in on himself, his body alight with pain. He stared down at his hands, which had turned bright red and blue at their tips. His head swam, the world blurring against his will as he sank to his knees. Taking a halting step forward, his foot slid, and his face and shoulder collided with the frigid boards. Pain should have rippled through him, but all he felt was nothing.
ACT TWO
“There is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.”
-Herman Melville
Chapter Ten
Menhirs
Immanuel stirred, stretching his legs despite the weight of several heavy blankets stacked on top of them. As his mind surfaced, he could make out the crackling of a hearth nearby. Hesitantly opening one eye, he spotted a rickety bed less than an arm’s length from his, shoved against the wall. The walls were roughly plastered and cracked, barely covering the beams and stone behind them, but as his gaze migrated to the ceiling, an ancient, rough beam hovered over his head with a series of wooden ribs hanging above it. Cocooned within the bed’s enticing warmth, he considered just closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep when his foot brushed something hard. Adam perched on the iron foot rail. He sat rigid with the fireplace poker clutched in his hand. Shifting his grip, he stabbed at the crackling logs, his face a mask of calm that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Immanuel watched him a moment, unable to pinpoint what lay behind the unnerving quiet. Had he done something wrong?
“Adam,” Immanuel called softly, fighting off the thick layer of blankets to sit up. “What’s wrong?”
Adam whipped around at the sound of
his voice, his face blanching before breaking into a rare, unguarded smile. Setting the poker in its place, Adam came to his side and dropped onto the mattress beside him. He reached out to touch Immanuel’s face, his hand hovering in the space between them as if he could go no further, but his gaze didn’t falter when it met Immanuel’s. It reached further to touch something so deep it sent a twang of energy through his bones. Closing his eyes against the sensation, Immanuel leaned into Adam’s palm. Warmth radiated against his cheek, and for a moment, Adam didn’t seem to breathe. He sat perfectly still with his hand outstretched and his eyes on Immanuel’s form. Adam swallowed hard as Immanuel wrapped his hands around Adam’s and kissed his palm. When Immanuel raised his gaze, he found slight bags had formed under his lover’s eyes and his normally dazzling smile had fallen somewhere between pain and happiness.
“What’s wrong?” Immanuel asked softly, pressing Adam’s hand to his cheek.
Adam’s free hand twitched, revealing an angry patch of skin growing on the inside of his wrist. “I can’t believe you’re really all right,” he whispered. “I know you’re extra-normal and more durable than most, but… But nothing is infallible.”
Immanuel licked his peeling lips and tasted the lingering salt of the North Sea. His voice faltered as his mind finally cleared. “What happened to Miss Larkin? Is she all right?”
“Yes, at least I believe so. Despite being in the water for so long, she didn’t seem as affected as you were. The captain thought it was due to her fur coat or even the baby. She shrugged us off at the dock and went home.”
“Will… will it—?”
“I didn’t want to pry. Miss Larkin seemed concerned but not as much as I would have been.” Leaning closer, Adam kissed Immanuel’s forehead and swept the stray hairs from his face. He sighed and regarded his companion, taking in each feature in turn. “You gave me such a fright. She was alert and talking, and you were limp.” He opened his mouth, but the words refused to leave his lips. I thought you were dead. And all he could do was stand there, offering his assistance and tepid concern, when in his mind he was begging Immanuel to stay with him. He kept thinking if Immanuel died, he wouldn’t be allowed to hold him once more. He wouldn’t be allowed to grieve or lay claim to their life together. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he fought back the burning behind his eyes. Even now, he couldn’t say or do all he wanted. “Are you all right?”
Selkie Cove (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 5) Page 10