Selkie Cove (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 5)

by Kara Jorgensen

  “Magical?”

  “Yes,” Immanuel replied breathlessly, deflating with a contented grin. “I have so much more I could tell you, but I don’t know how to say it.”

  “Well, go change into something dry, and you can tell me all about it.”

  Looking down at his rain-soaked clothing as if he had only just noticed it, Immanuel nodded and dashed up the steps. The boards bounced beneath his buoyant tread. Adam released a tense breath and followed behind. By the time he reached their shared room, Immanuel had tossed his rumpled jacket and waistcoat onto the bed and was working at the buttons of his linen shirt. Adam snatched up his wet clothing and carefully laid them across the hearth grate. He was about to ask Immanuel for his soggy socks when he turned to find his companion staring at him with a wide grin.

  “I want to show you a rather useful trick.”

  Drawing in a breath, Immanuel sucked the energy in the room into himself. The fire leaned toward him as beads of water appeared on the surface of his trousers and shirt. Immanuel held out his arms and let the droplets collect on his skin. With a flick of his hands, the water shot out. Adam turned in time to avoid most of the spatter only to hear the muted fire sputter and hiss as it died out, casting the room in shadow.

  “Oops. I can fix that.”

  A narrow flame twitched within the pile of logs and paper. In the dark, Adam thought he could nearly see the energy crackling through the air like static. It stirred the hairs on his arm and sent a tingle over his skin that had nothing to do with the breeze Immanuel conjured to stoke the fire. The flame expanded in time with Immanuel’s breath until it grew into a healthy blaze. A knot lodged in Adam’s breast at the realization that Immanuel could do this without sigils or expending so much energy that he fainted. Somehow it had become normal.

  “What do you think?” Immanuel asked, his eyes alight.

  “It’s… something. Aren’t you tired?”

  “No. These are just little tricks. When you’re around, it’s so much easier. I did the water trick with the selkies, but at the end, I turned it to ice. I don’t know if I could do it if I were inside with the fire going. At the time, it seemed impressive. I’ll have to show you later.”

  As he pulled off his shirt, Adam traced the pale scars encircling Immanuel’s ribs and dotting his shoulder blade with his eyes. Adam rubbed his sore wrist and perched on the edge of his mattress. He had worried so much when Immanuel didn’t come home that he was certain he would return injured or exhausted, yet here he was, singing to himself and using his powers as if they were as natural as breathing. A part of him couldn’t believe it to be true.

  Something had to be amiss.

  It had to be.

  “You’re very quiet. What are you thinking about?” Immanuel said, carefully lowering himself onto Adam’s lap.

  Wrapping his arms around Immanuel, Adam closed his eyes and stroked the damp, velveteen skin of his lover’s side. He bit back the words threatening to spill from his mind. He had thought that something awful had befallen Immanuel, but he couldn’t act. He couldn’t bear to go looking for him and find him dead somewhere. The day George died, he had done the same thing. He knew he was dead by the quiet in the house. There were no wheezed breaths echoing through his door, no wet coughs, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in. Like a coward, he had let Hadley go first— no, he let her find him. He should have protected her. He should have protected Immanuel. The backs of his eyes prickled as he hid his face in Immanuel’s flesh.

  “Adam?”

  “I was just thinking how talented you are,” he replied in a strangled whisper. “You hardly need sigils anymore.”

  “A few of the books Miss Elliott lent me suggested all you needed was focus and intention. The sigils helped me focus, but the more I get accustomed to— to magic, the less I need them. Of course, having you nearby has helped with that tremendously.” He breathed the last word into his ear, sending a wave of chills across Adam’s cheek. His tongue flicked across his earlobe while his hands worked on the buttons of his jacket. “I wish you could have seen it, Adam.”

  Adam sucked in a breath. Opening his mouth to speak, he found he couldn’t find any words to mask his fear. He couldn’t shove Immanuel away and storm off in theatrical rage as he would with Hadley. He couldn’t move, except to tighten his jaw and steady his shaking hand against Immanuel’s thigh. How was he going to get out of this?

  His lover’s hand closed over his. Before he could pull away, Immanuel leaned back and ran his hand along Adam’s cheek. He shut his eyes as Immanuel’s nimble fingers combed through his hair. With his other hand, Immanuel tilted Adam’s chin up until their gazes met. The excitement melted from Immanuel’s face to reveal his thoughtful, soft-eyed expression. His copper and turquoise irises held Adam wholly as he traced his jaw in slow strokes. Every time he looked at him like that, Adam wondered what Immanuel saw that he didn’t.

  “Something’s wrong,” Immanuel whispered, as if reading his mind. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, no. I— I was worried about you is all. After I visited Mr. Quince, I went to the workshop, and they said they hadn’t seen you. I— I thought—”

  Immanuel cupped the back of Adam’s head, pinning his eyes on his. “You thought something happened to me.”

  Nodding, Adam averted his gaze. “After everything that’s happened, I can’t help it.”

  Silently sighing, the corner of his lip curled in a sad smile. “I’m sorry I worried you. I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know.”

  “But, Adam, you don’t have to worry about me. Despite how I look, I’m made of strong stuff. You have seen it yourself.”

  He wanted to cry that it may not work, that nothing worked all the time. That death loomed over them as the one cruel certainty of life. One day magic wouldn’t save Immanuel, and Adam refused to put stock in something he couldn’t see or even fully believe. No one had saved his parents or brother, and no matter how much he loved Immanuel, in the end, no one would save him.

  “Adam,” he said softly, his voice rousing him from his thoughts, “look at me. Am I whole? Am I safe?”

  Tightening his grip on Immanuel’s waist, Adam closed his eyes and stroked his side until his thumb found the groove in his rib. If he let his mind quiet, he could hear the steady thrum of Immanuel’s heart. It had restarted three times before, but how many chances did he have left? There was no way he could be certain that death truly held no dominion over him. And it was foolish to hope it did.

  “You don’t have to protect me all the time.” Immanuel’s hands slid to the nape of Adam’s neck. “That’s why I keep practicing. I want to take care of us, and magic will help me do that. Don’t you see? I found the selkies. That was half of what we needed to become Interceptors. All we need is to find the killer, and we can join. I’ll learn more magic, you can bring that gun of yours, and we can fight the darkness together. All the people out there like Lord and Lady Rose, we can stop them.”

  “After all you’ve been through, all you’ve seen, why do you still want to go back to that world?” he asked, though he knew the answer before the words left Immanuel’s lips.

  “Because I want to live,” he said, the words whispering across Adam’s skin. He gripped Adam’s face tighter until the redhead couldn’t look away or didn’t dare to. “I have spent so much of my life afraid. I can’t do it anymore, Adam. I need to live, and when I was down there dangling from the strap of my bag, I knew I could drown; I was afraid. But it didn’t feel like it did with Lord Rose. I chose to go there, I chose to do that, like I chose whom I would share my life with.” The last he punctuated with a reverent kiss on Adam’s brow. “I put Lord Rose away for good, and now, I want to put my other demons to rest one way or another. I can’t do that at the museum. I need more. I need to know that there’s a reason I’m still here.”

  Immanuel’s lips twisted into a pained smile as he kissed Adam. Even with his eyes closed, Adam sensed the familiar twitch of
his companion’s mouth. It was the second before Adam knew to throw out his arms to catch him. When Immanuel pulled back, his eyes had reddened and watered at their edges. Apologies and platitudes hung uselessly on Adam’s lips. With the edge of his hand, Adam cast Immanuel’s escaped tear aside, feeling his own diminish. Immanuel held Adam’s hand on his cheek, tilting his head into his warm grasp.

  “Today was the first day I felt like myself in months. Seeing the selkies transform before my eyes and thinking of all the things I could learn from them, reminded me why I got into science and magic.” He drew in a wet, crackling breath. “Because life is beautiful and strange and terrifying, and I don’t want to waste a moment hiding from it because one man tried to break me. I won’t be broken again, Adam.”

  If only he could be so brave.

  Staring up at him, Adam’s breath stuck in his chest until pain knifed through him and he released it with a shudder. He clasped his hand over his mouth and turned his face away as the sob leapt in his throat. Alien tears scalded his eyes and nose at the realization that his lover needed from him the thing he could never give himself. Pushing his knuckle into his lips, Adam stared at the floor.

  “Adam, are—?”

  “Promise you’ll never leave me,” he whispered, his broken voice foreign. “I can’t bear to lose you, too.”

  “Lose me? Why would you lose me?”

  Because that’s what happened to everyone else he cared for. “Just promise me.”

  “I promise, mein Schätzchen. I promise.” Immanuel’s arms closed around him, pulling him tight to his breast. “I love you so much the devil himself would have to come collect me.”

  “Good.”

  The word fell desperate and heavy as Adam pressed his lips against Immanuel’s. He needed him. He needed to feel every part of him to know for certain he was real, that he had returned to him in one piece. Despite the risk, despite every voice in his mind screaming, Not here, Adam tightened his grip on his lover’s thigh when Immanuel threatened to pull away. Not now. He needed him now, no matter the consequences.

  Immanuel unhooked the buttons of his waistcoat. His tongue intertwined with his, sending waves of gooseflesh sweeping over Adam’s arms and down his stomach until the front of his trousers strained at the thought of Immanuel’s form so close and inviting. Adam fisted the quilt, resisting the urge to rip his lover’s trousers from his narrow hips and pull him back onto his bed. Following his gaze, a smile crossed Immanuel’s lips and with a flick of his hand, his trousers and drawers were on the floor. A protest rose in Adam’s throat but quickly died when Immanuel pressed his weight against him until he sank back onto the mattress. Immanuel straddled his hips, his length brushing against Adam’s stomach as he bent down to suck and nip at the delicate skin of his neck. Sensing Adam tense and turn his head away, Immanuel sat back with his hands resting on Adam’s ribs and a lopsided frown on his lips.

  “What’s wrong? If you don’t want me to…”

  “I do,” he said quicker than he intended.

  His eyes trailed to the window behind him. The fog slid along the shore with the distant rumble of thunder, engulfing the lighthouse’s beacon and diminishing it to a blinking star. Immanuel hopped off and yanked the curtains shut. Adam released a quavering breath and closed his eyes. He folded in on himself, imagining his body sinking deep into the mattress until nothing remained. If he could only get ahead of his mind and cut off his thoughts, then maybe he could pull himself together. The bed rocked beneath him. He opened his eyes to find Immanuel lying beside him, resting his head on his folded arm. Concern creased the German’s brow as they locked gazes.

  “Can you tell me what’s the matter?”

  Adam opened his mouth and closed it again, keeping his eyes on his folded hands. Words were more difficult for him than he cared to admit.

  “Please, Adam. You do so much for me. Let me help you if I can. Do you not want to be an Interceptor? If you don’t like this, I can tell Miss Elliott I changed my mind.”

  “That isn’t it.” He drew in a breath, hating the rasp of the words as he forced them from his throat. “I’m afraid.”

  “Of what? I told you, I can hold my own. I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

  “It— It isn’t just you I’m afraid for.”

  Immanuel’s bichrome eyes flashed with the realization as he clasped his hand over Adam’s. “But you have your gun with you.”

  “Why do you think I bring it?” He lowered his eyes to his hand before raising his gaze to meet his lover’s only to avert it again. Why was it so damn hard to speak? Staring at the plaster beside the curtains, he said, “I don’t have magic like you. I’m human and nothing more. I’m very aware that if something should happen to me, that’s it. I’m not like you, I only get one shot at this.”

  “Would it make you feel better if I said I had already thought of that?”

  Adam turned to find Immanuel staring down at the chain hanging from his neck. At the end, a glass vial crisscrossed with silver and gold leaves hung, filled with perpetually blooming forget-me-nots. Ever since Emmeline returned it to him, Immanuel hadn’t taken it off. He twirled the chain between his fingers, turning the vial in a lazy circle.

  “I keep this with me just in case anything should happen. Whatever is in there is keeping the flowers alive, so there has to be some left.”

  “You would bind me to you like you did with Emmeline?”

  “In a heartbeat. If that didn’t work, I would use the sigil that brought Percy to life.”

  “You would do that for me? What if it’s against Interceptor rules to bring someone back from the dead?”

  “I don’t care about the rules. I would bring you back no matter the consequences,” he replied, the words sending heat down Adam’s belly as Immanuel closed the gap between them. He rested his hand on his cheek and turned Adam’s head until he held his attention. “If I knew how, I would have bound you to me long ago.”

  But what if you eventually no longer love me? Or what if I slowly waste away like my parents and brother? What if you’re forced to watch me die for the remainder of your life? Adam wanted to ask, but the questions died on his lips at the press of Immanuel’s hips on his own followed by the taste of his lips and the brush of his fingers laced through his henna hair. Kissing him deeply, Immanuel silenced his doubts with his easy command of Adam’s body. Energy reverberated through his chest, building from practioner to amplifier and back until the air hummed. He kissed Adam once more, his fingers tracing a slow course over his heart. Power cinched around his lungs in invisible vines that buzzed like an electric wire. The current passed through him, eliciting a low moan as its heat spread through every inch of his body. Adam drew up to meet Immanuel’s lips again only to find him marveling at the soft blue light hovering on Adam’s skin where Immanuel had touched him.

  He ran his hand along Adam’s chest, dragging the trail of light until the ends connected. For a moment, Adam thought the spell would break and Immanuel would return to kissing his neck or collar until he drew back to hold Adam’s gaze. He stared into his eyes, looking past his fear and need until his gaze settled upon something deeper, something that tightened its hold on him. In that moment Adam could see only him, and the world beyond those mismatched eyes fell away.

  Tapping his finger over Adam’s heart, the wires of light tightened as a wave of ecstasy burned through his form. Adam released a shuttering breath and saw a curl of blue escape his mouth. He should have panicked, he should have been afraid, but Immanuel’s lips silenced him.

  “My life is yours,” he breathed, the light fading.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Damnatio Memoriae

  Adam couldn’t sleep. For hours he had stared at the ceiling while Immanuel slept soundly beside him. Every so often, his body twitched, waking Adam from the memories plaguing him only to have them fall back before his eyes the moment he settled. Slowly sitting up, Adam inched toward the edge of the mattress until he was certai
n he was far enough away that he wouldn’t disturb Immanuel. Slipping out of bed, he pulled the covers over his lover’s bare shoulders and smiled despite himself. Immanuel deserved a good night’s sleep, and he would do everything in his power to ensure there were many more. Adam gathered the quilt from the other bed around his shoulders and sat at the foot of the bed where the dying embers warmed his stocking feet. Closing his eyes, Adam jerked as George’s face flashed through his mind, young and whole but strained with rage. Before the dream could begin, Adam threw open the curtain and applied himself to studying the barren expanse of grass between them and the lighthouse.

  What was it he always told Immanuel? Breathe. As he released a long breath, the glass fogged to reveal a flower traced in oil. During the evening, Immanuel had told him of the sigils warding the windows to keep outsiders from barging in, but that wasn’t the reason he agreed to have an intimate night despite the voice in his head telling him it was madness so far from home. With each kiss, that voice sounded less like his own and more like George’s, and that was when he knew he had to do it.

  George. Why had he now come back to haunt him?

  It had been two years since he died, and that morning when he heard blessed silence in the house, he felt—he pulled the blanket closer—relief, as if he had been holding in a breath for over a decade that he never realized he had been holding. There was no one left to meddle in his life, except Hadley, who seemed completely unconcerned with his affairs beyond the family business. It had been so easy at first; Hadley needed him, and he was good at being needed. George never needed him. He had made that abundantly clear.

  Adam swallowed hard, wishing he had a bottle of something to dull the urge to share a memory he had never shared with anyone. He could have told Immanuel. He would have understood, but he could never tell Hadley. It would taint one of them, and if it was between him and George, the living would always lose. A saint in life, a saint in death, Adam thought bitterly. Dear old Saint George with his bloodied palms. He was the picture of a youthful martyr while Adam with his prideful, charismatic shell fell from grace faster than George could corrupt.