Selkie Cove (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 5)

by Kara Jorgensen

  “You never told me the telegraph was out again,” Byron said, rising to his feet. “I can come up to the lighthouse right now and put it to rights.”

  For an instant, Immanuel was certain he saw Quince tighten his grip on the handle of the drill, but the older man quickly shook his head and reached for the door. “The thing’s always going out. Don’t trouble yourself, Byron. You know it’d only go out again in a storm like this.”

  Byron nodded thoughtfully. “All right, but I’ll come by when the weather clears.”

  Donning his hat from the box of wires, Quince threw open the door and nearly ran into Adam. Quince stumbled back, looking up at the redhead as if he had seen a ghost before heading off into the village.

  “My apologies, Mr. Durnure, but I need to borrow my companion.”

  “I understand.”

  Byron’s shoulders twitched, his hands moving jerkily as he settled before the half-constructed engine. Shaking his head, he mouthed something to himself, his hand clenching and opening. Adam gave Immanuel a questioning look, but he cautiously stepped closer until Byron hesitantly raised his gaze nearly to his eyes.

  “Mr. Durnure, I would love to see your generators when the weather is more hospitable,” Immanuel said, fighting the urge to stay a few moments more. “I’m certain Mr. Fenice would as well. Despite what Quince said, I think your inventions are ingenious.”

  “Thank you. Mr. Quince isn’t bad usually, just when he’s had too much.” His attention trailed back to the engine. “The engines are submerged and there’s only one diving apparatus, but I can show you the powerhouse. There’s a prototype there that you can look at.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  As Adam and Immanuel slipped into the downpour, Immanuel cast a glance at Byron. To his relief, Byron had his head down, his attention fixed on the papers before him and his pencil moving furiously. A small smile crept across Immanuel’s lips despite the frigid gale sending rain deep into his hair and down his neck beneath the collar of his coat. He and Adam walked in silence until they reached the hill where the circle of crooked stones stood overlooking the town. Yellow squares of shining, wet light turned the tracks of dirt and gravel into undulant strokes of color. Adam paused, looking down at the rows of houses ringing the docks where fishing boats bobbed in the storm. Rain burned Immanuel’s eyes and skin as he resisted the urge to pull Adam along toward the cottage. After a long moment, his lover turned from the lashing wind and squeezed Immanuel’s arm.

  “I have news for you,” Adam said softly, leaning so close his breath brushed Immanuel’s cheek with each word, “but you have to catch me to get it.”

  Giving his companion a wink, he dashed down the path, leaving Immanuel in his wake. Immanuel blinked before sprinting after him. For all his tailored clothing and pomaded hair, Adam was deceptively fast. They reached the house a second apart, tumbling into the door as Adam unlocked it before falling into the parlor, laughing breathlessly. Their trousers had been spattered with mud and they were soaked to the bone, but the rhythmic thrum of Adam’s heart beating against his own as he held him, sent a soft sigh from Immanuel’s throat. Adam kissed him gently and collapsed onto the sofa beside him. Immanuel’s hand crept across the cushion until their fingers touched and tangled, settling into their familiar grooves.

  “Well, give me your news.”

  Adam released a breathless chuckle. “Let me catch my breath. Tell me, were you able learn anything from Byron Durnure?”

  “Besides the ins and outs of motors and generators? Not really. I never got the chance to ask him about his lover. Quince came barging in looking for one of his tools. I swear he was drunk. He stunk.”

  “What else is there to do on this island. The sea sickness probably drives him to it.”

  “Sea sickness?”

  Ignoring the moisture settling deep into his clothing in the cool house, Adam told Immanuel all he had learned from Greta. When he reached the part where he had to reveal their secret to save Immanuel’s honor, he had expected Immanuel to chastise him or at least seem upset, but he merely shrugged.

  “You aren’t angry? I’ve put us in danger.”

  “Perhaps, but I had to tell Völva Hilde to keep from being tossed into the sea. I wouldn’t shout it from the rooftops or tell it to a man, but the selkies wouldn’t trust us otherwise,” Immanuel replied, squeezing Adam’s fingers. “At least they don’t seem like the type to involve the police.”

  “Thankfully. It was the only way I could convince Miss Larkin we had no ulterior motive, but at least we have a chance at having an audience with Völva Hilde here. Miss Larkin said she speak to them before dusk.”

  “You—” Immanuel’s eyes bulged. “They could be coming here? Tonight?”

  “Yes? Is that a problem?”

  “No, but I need to prepare.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Land and Sea

  At half-past six, a knock sounded at the door. Adam hesitated, glancing toward the stairs for the gun he had stashed earlier, but when the rapping grew more insistent, he yanked the door open with a huff. Miss Larkin stood at the cottage door with her hair plastered to her face beneath the hood of her shaggy hide coat. She glared up at Adam, regarding his rumpled shirt sleeves and silk dressing gown with unrestrained disdain.

  Before he could step aside to let her in, she said, “They will be here at ten. Apparently the Völva already agreed to a future meeting with your friend. You had better not be late, and don’t even think of pulling anything or I’ll eviscerate you myself. Got me?”

  “I think I know how to handle myself,” Adam replied, keeping one hand on the door and the other flared at his hip. In case she suddenly took it upon herself to barge in, he at least had a chance of stopping her.

  “Not in front of them. Don’t stare, don’t make eye contact with the Völva, and don’t speak to her unless spoken to. She is the leader of our people and will be treated as such. I’ll be escorting them from the beach to make certain you don’t do anything to jeopardize their safety.” Dropping her voice, she added, “And trust me, I will use what you told me if you try anything.”

  Pulling her heavy coat closer, Miss Larkin gave him one last cutting scowl before returning to the path. Adam shook his head and blinked, not certain what had happened. After Immanuel saved her life and offered to find her compatriot’s killer, she seemed to treat them more like monsters. With a pang of dread, he remembered what he had said.

  Adam drew himself up, keeping his head high and his spine rigid as he retreated up the steps to get ready. He had lived by the rules of propriety and manners—to a point—his whole life; it had been the guide upon which he built a shell around the Adam who couldn’t be. Purposefully, artfully, flouting certain rules, he had created the aesthetic that would at once shield him and act as a release valve for the part of him he thought he could never share. Adam smoothed his best waistcoat. If he could win over a dowager countess with his charms, surely he could make it through an hour with a few seal-women. He was accustomed to women being the most dangerous creatures in a room.

  Immanuel, on the other hand, spent the better part of the evening moving from room to room in an ineffectual flurry of activity. He prattled on, half finishing one task and moving on to the next thing that caught his eye before he could finish the first. As always, Adam dutifully followed behind to deal with what his companion had missed. By the time dusk came, the inn appeared as clean and orderly as it had been when they arrived, and finally, Immanuel seemed to settle down somewhat. Even as he sat at the dining table with his autopsy notes and journal, he fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing his ankles. His eyes trailed from the door to his papers and back again so often that Adam could feel his gaze swipe across his neck like a knife.

  “What are you so worried about? They agreed to your meeting,” Adam said, not taking his eyes off his worn copy of The Italian.

  “I know, but last time I ended up nearly drowned because they didn’t like what I sai
d. I don’t want to ruin my chances with them. I’m coming to them for help.”

  “But you are helping to find out who murdered one of their own. You didn’t have to do that, but you have. Now, try not to get anymore wound up.”

  Adam heard Immanuel make a sound of agreement, but within moments he felt his gaze slice along his skin again followed by the sound of his pen tapping against the table.

  “Do you think I should run down to the docks and buy some fish? Would it be more hospitable for them if we had food for them to eat?” Immanuel asked, shifting in his seat.

  “If the fishermen are smart, they’re already inside. Besides, even if they were out, do we know for certain what fish selkies eat? I wouldn’t want to offend her highness.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. If I get the chance, I must ask them about their eating habits,” he replied over the scratch of the nib against paper.

  And the house will stink like seabass and eels all night, Adam wanted to add but thought better of it. “I’m certain tea and Jacobs’ leftover bread will suffice in terms of hospitality. What are you doing with your notes? Transcribing them in legible English?”

  “Very funny. No, I’m trying to make sense of what I have learned with my findings from the autopsy. Some things line up, others leave me with more questions. I wish I could ask them, but I’m rather afraid to. Maybe when all of this is behind us and we bring the one who killed Berte to the Interceptors, they will trust us.”

  “You could ask Byron. He seems well acquainted with the selkies.”

  “I would rather ask them. At least now I can give the Interceptors more information on their mating patterns, how they transform, and more importantly, how the inheritance patterns seem to rely on the offspring’s sex. If we could discover the mechanism behind this, it could open a whole new field of genetic studies. It’s like birds. How the males are colorful and the females are subdued, but this is so much more complex.” Immanuel’s eyes brightened at the thought. “Perhaps I could study magic and the biological mechanisms behind transformative creatures with the Interceptors. That seems fairly safe.”

  “I thought you wanted something beyond safety, not that the selkies are particularly docile. What you’re talking about sounds a lot like what you’re trying to escape at the museum,” Adam replied with a bemused grin as he watched his lover over the back of the sofa.

  Setting his pen aside, he chewed his lip. “I— I know, but I want both. I want adventures like this on days when I can’t stand the thought of being chained to my desk writing letters for Sir William. But after I’ve had too close an encounter with my mortality, then I crave a desk.”

  “Balance would be nice.”

  “Yes. I keep hoping the Interceptors might be the answer to that.”

  “That or you could join a gymnasium or sports club.”

  Immanuel released a muffled laugh and turned back to his papers.

  “What are you snickering about?”

  “Joining a gymnasium.”

  Adam cocked a henna brow. “I have a membership to one, you know.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. How do you think I look like this?” Adam asked, gesturing to his chest. “Magic?”

  Immanuel’s eyes widened as they slid over Adam’s form. “The same reason I can’t seem to put on much weight: family trait. I’ve never even seen you go.”

  “Just because you don’t see me, doesn’t mean I don’t. I go sometimes before or after work, especially when Sir William has you occupied at all hours. I started going when George got sick the last time.” He fingered the frayed edge of his book. Exercise had helped to smother his thoughts. As George grew sicker, Adam spent more time working his back and lungs in hopes that he could strengthen his body enough that consumption couldn’t touch him. What else could he do against an unseen assailant but prepare against the worst? “Since we started living together, I haven’t gone as often.”

  “I wouldn’t stop you.”

  “I know.” He flashed a wide grin that revealed his straight, white teeth and shrugged. “But I would rather be home with you.”

  “I’m sure it was nice to see all those men half-dressed and sweaty,” Immanuel added, punctuating the final word with a smothered snort.

  “I suppose I can get that for free now, can’t I? Still, if I’m to chase you all over god’s creation, it might help to take up a sport again.”

  ***

  When the hands of his watch reached a quarter to ten, Immanuel had only written the description for half of the selkie caves. Sighing, he stretched until his back popped and his wrists cracked. At his motion, Adam roused from his doze and traded his dressing gown for his coat. At the door, Immanuel watched his companion check the chambers of his gun before slipping it into his pocket along with Mr. Jacobs’ calling stone. Immanuel reached for the knob with a quavering hand when Adam caught his wrist. Slowly turning to him, Adam slipped his arm around Immanuel’s waist and pulled him close. For a long moment, they merely stared into each other’s eyes until Adam’s fingers brushed along his cheek and he gently kissed him.

  “Whatever happens with them tonight, I want you to know that you can do this. We can do this, with or without their help,” Adam said softly, his voice rich and warm.

  Immanuel swallowed hard, the cold metal of the empty pendent burning his neck. He hoped Adam was right because something felt off. He had spent the last few hours busying himself with his notes in hopes the answer would come. His stomach knotted. He was missing something; he had to be. Raising his gaze to Adam’s face, Immanuel nodded and received another quick kiss. Adam opened the door, catching it as it flung to the wall with the force of the storm. Forcing it shut behind them, Adam cut across the lane to watch the beach from the ridge of boulders. Immanuel lingered at the door as a gale of miserable wind whipped through his clothing as if he were as naked as a selkie. Over the crack of thunder, a prickle of power trailed down his spine and dispersed across his skin.

  “Should we go down to the beach?” Immanuel yelled over the wind.

  “Better to keep the high ground. If anyone comes, we can hold them off better up here and give the selkies cover to get back to the water.”

  “Your friend is right.”

  Adam and Immanuel turned to find Greta Larkin standing in the shadows of the trees. Her face shifted in the stark shadows of her lantern’s glare. Hanging from her elbow was a sewing basket overflowing with fabric.

  “What’s that for?” Adam asked, inclining his chin toward the basket.

  “Dry cloaks for the Völva and priestesses.”

  “I thought they wore nothing more than their skins.”

  She curled her lip. “It’s customary to wear clothing when the Völva has a formal meeting with a human.”

  “I’m going to go down and wait,” Immanuel said, tugging at his collar as he looked uncomfortably between Greta and Adam.

  The breeze whipped the edge of Adam’s hair from its pomade, obscuring Immanuel’s descent with ribbons of red. He crossed the sand and waited at the water’s edge, the tips of his boots darkening where the tide lazily lapped the shore. Adam kept an eye on Immanuel a moment longer before turning his gaze to either side of the dirt road. Standing in the middle of the path, he half expected a steamer to come barreling down the lane, but this wasn’t London and he hadn’t seen a single motorcar since they left Scarborough. For what felt like an eternity, he stood at Greta’s side with nothing but the wind and heavy silence between them. Occasionally Immanuel would cast a glance over his shoulder at them before turning his attention back to the sea. As Adam slowly shifted, a shadow caught his eye, but when he looked down the road with his gun trained ahead of him, he found only scant beams of moonlight and the occasional cry of a night bird. Greta eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.

  Turning back to the sea, Adam saw movement in the water. A ripple broke followed by another and another, but before he could cry out to Immanuel, dark shapes rose from
the inky depths. Through the moonlight and the scant glow of Immanuel’s lantern, Adam could see what looked like the broad grey foreheads of three seals. Before Adam’s mind could discern their bodies beneath the waves, the creatures began to transform. Their bodies stretched as they reared up on their hind fins. In front of his eyes, the fins stretched into legs, and where webbed paws had once been, graceful arms emerged. Gold glittered across their bodies, burning brighter in the flickering light as their grey seal skins melted into human flesh. Torcs encircled their necks while gleaming bands clung to their arms and ankles, catching the light with each step.

  The breath caught in Adam’s throat as his mind reeled at the sight. He had seen many things he never expected to see: a living skeletal cat, a beast from another world vying for dominance in a man’s body, the dead return to life, but he had never seen a human slide between forms. On them it seemed so smooth and right, as if the human body had been born to break and bend and reform. He shuddered at the thought of their bones and ligaments stretching, aching, pain arcing as their bones cracked, but as the selkies strutted up the beach toward Immanuel, Adam couldn’t fathom how they could subject themselves to such torture and shrug it off without so much as a grimace. Immanuel looked back at Adam as if unsure whether to give them space or lead the way. Adam watched the three women warily. The moment they drew close to Immanuel, Adam felt the subtle surge of otherworldly power burning across his skin and down his spine. Steadying his hand, he kept his gun at his side.

  Standing before the silver-haired woman, Immanuel bowed low. He then did so for the redhead while the woman with inky hair did little more than glance at the gesture before stepping away. Immanuel raised his lantern and gestured toward the stairs. As the beam flashed across their flesh, Adam’s heart crawled up his throat. They weren’t truly naked, as Immanuel had said, that would have made sense. No, they were half human and half seal. He could see it on the silver-haired one’s skin. A patch of pink flesh the width of a hand cut down their forms only to be swallowed up on either side by pale grey fur dotted with darker speckles. Their leader had a patch of fur near her collar that stood out. It had markings shaped like moons or swirls, and for a moment, Adam imagined what it would feel like to run his hand over them and feel the subtle changes of their skin from one form to the next. It would probably be the last thing he did.