by Fleur Smith
“Thank you,” he said.
“Don’t thank us yet,” I said. I’d uttered those words not long ago to Mackenzie, and I’d still not delivered on her rescue yet. “Do you know how that works?” I pointed to the hook securing him in place.
His tail tugged in response to my words. “No. They—” His eyes sank closed, no doubt recalling something that had happened to him within the walls. “I was unconscious when they . . . when it was secured. They have not yet allowed me any freedom. Please, help me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mackenzie staring at me in awe. Like I was some sort of savior.
“His agony is continued,” Mackenzie said. “Merpeople are known for their healing abilities. His body is attempting to repair the wound even as we speak. He is unable to heal fully though because the water contains no salt and the hook contains silver. We must find a way to remove it.”
The merman’s expression grew soft as he watched her with clear admiration. “How do you know this information?”
“I am a healer. I have learned the ways of healing all manner of creatures.” Her face was soft as she uttered the reassuring words, the epitome of a great bedside manner.
“I—I can’t open it,” I admitted, breaking up the moment. “I don’t know how.”
“Do not give up hope,” Mackenzie said when the merman’s expression dropped. “Evelyn is exceptional. She will find a way.”
“I can’t.” I paced away from the tank, trying to think of something, all the while conscious of the ticking clock to get back to Clay.
If I put my hands too close to the water, if I let the heat in my body pass into it, I’d probably boil the merman alive. One solution came to my mind, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. All I could do was put the idea out there though; whether he wanted to go through with it or not was his choice.
I stepped up beside Mackenzie, the move putting me closer to the merman than I had been before. He flinched away, no doubt feeling the sting of my heat on his skin. It occurred to me that I was so far out of my depth. I had no idea what happened to a merperson if they got too hot or dried out. Him spending any time in my proximity would certainly cause that.
I needed more information. More time. More resources.
“What’s your name?” I asked. Being so close to him showed a vulnerability and youth I hadn’t noticed from a distance.
“Zale,” he said, his voice trusting despite the way his body had naturally shied away from me.
“Okay, Zale, I can’t check the bottom of the tank for a release mechanism because if I do, I’ll probably cause the water to boil. Especially if it takes a while.” I didn’t explain why—the whys and hows could come later. “But I can get Mackenzie here to—”
“There is no point,” he said, cutting me off. “There is no release inside the tank.”
My mouth twisted in distaste. “Then I have only one other solution, but I’m afraid it won’t be pleasant.”
His fuchsia irises flicked back and forth between Mackenzie and me.
“We’ll have to tear it out.”
Mackenzie gasped and issued a near-silent, “No.”
“Think about it, he’ll heal quickly if he can get out of here, isn’t that right, Zale?”
“If I can get to the ocean, I will.”
I didn’t want to consider how low the possibility of that actually happening was.
“I might be able to help a little in the meantime,” Mackenzie offered.
“This won’t be easy,” I said, glancing through the water at the inch-thick metal through his tail. “There’s at least three inches of muscle you’ll have to tear through.”
With his teeth gritted, he nodded his understanding. “But I will be free.”
“Of the hook, yes,” I said. “But it’ll be harder getting you from the tank, and we won’t be able to help you from the room. We can help with that,” I pointed at the metal, “but that’s it.”
“Once I am freed, if I can get dry I will be able to find an escape.” He grinned, and it made him seem younger still.
“Getting dry, I might be able to help you with,” I said. A laugh followed at the look on his face. “I’ll explain more once you’re out.” If we can get you out.
“What do you need?” Mackenzie asked.
“I need you to go as far to the other end of the tank as you can and I’ll need the both of you to pull Zale away from the hook as hard as you can.”
“Understood,” Zale said. “And what shall you do?”
A sigh slipped from my lips. “I’m going to see if I can heat this thing to make it slice through the muscle faster.” My stomach churned even as the words left me. “But you have to let me know if the heat gets to be too much.”
“It is going to be okay,” Mackenzie reassured him as she let go of her hold.
When she was as far to the other end as she could go, she reached into the tank again, once more locking arms with Zale.
“Okay, remember to tell me if you’re getting too hot,” I warned. “On three. One. Two. Three.”
As soon as I said the word, I plunged my arm down under the water. The cold fluid met my heated skin with a hiss of steam, but I ignored it and searched for the hook. When my hand found purchase on the metal, I focused on forcing as much heat as I could into it.
From the other end of the tank, I could hear Mackenzie’s and Zale’s groans of exertion. I tried not to pay attention to the wound on his tale that gaped wider by the second. Blood blossomed from the gash in a bouquet of red. I pressed my tongue to the top of my mouth to stop myself from gagging as I focused on forcing still more heat into my hand.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Zale cried out.
The volume scared me, and I pressed a finger against my lips before yanking my hand back from the water.
“I need a break.” He panted with his exertion.
I glanced up at him, his body shook with tremors and water beaded on his brow, sweat-like even though it was unlikely he would actually be sweating.
A second passed with no noise from outside the room, and my heart stopped racing as fast as it had been.
Zale indicated he was ready to try again. With a powerful thrust, he half-twisted in place, giving him a better hold—one hand on the glass and the other around Mackenzie’s arm. The movement also tore open the wound open another quarter-inch.
“Yes, it’s working,” I said, trying to focus on the result, not on what was actually happening. “Just a little more.”
I reached into the water again, but rather than grabbing the metal hook, I grabbed hold of his tail and helped support his muscles as he contracted his abs toward himself.
After another minute of listening to his labored breathing and cries he muffled against his arm, his tail sprung free from the trap. A four-inch tear ripped through the pink and green scales. Blood poured from the wound and the water had gone from the grotesque pink to almost completely red.
“Help me,” Mackenzie said.
I was so focused on the celebration that he was free, that I hadn’t noticed he’d passed out—either from the exertion or from the pain.
“Let’s get him out,” I said, reaching down into the water to grab a firm hold of his tail.
Together, Mackenzie and I half-lifted, half-rolled him up and out over the side of the tank. We did everything we could to help him to the floor gently. As soon as he was on the ground, Mackenzie moved to attend the wound on his tail.
“I will not be able to do much away from the court, but I can stem the worst of the bleeding.”
“Do what you can,” I said. “You’ve done so much for him already.”
As she worked on his tail, I did what I’d said I would and tried to help him dry off as fast as possible. It helped dry me as well, although I was glad for the decision to wear dark colors. It hid the fact that the moisture clinging to me was as much blood as it was water. I did it the only way I could think of, by rubbing my heated hands over the wettest areas of his bod
y.
My long strokes up and down his tail seemed to have some effect because the drier he grew, the less prominent his scales were.
He groaned and began to stir. “Feels so good,” he murmured.
I laughed as I put my hands back in my own lap. “I think that’s probably enough for now.”
He pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Do not stop,” he said, but he wasn’t directing his words at me. His entire focus was on Mackenzie, who was waving her hand slowly over his wound and chanting something under her breath.
As we watched her work, the last of Zale’s body dried and his scales faded entirely as his tail split into two parts and formed legs. Mackenzie was left holding one of his feet.
I glanced away from his newly transformed body because I hadn’t considered what might happen when he’d changed. That he’d be completely naked and, apparently thanks to Mackenzie’s ministrations, sporting a rather sizable erection.
“We, uh, we should be going,” I said.
“I’ll come with you,” Zale said as he lifted himself fully into a seated position. His eyes never left Mackenzie as he moved.
“You can’t. I’m sorry, but we’ve got a lot of stuff to do here in the Bayview before we can leave. Having another person with us”—especially one who’s naked—“will make it harder and more dangerous. We will leave the door unlocked though. Just try to be careful.”
“And you,” he said.
“And find some pants,” I added. “You’ll cause a sensation if you try to leave like that.”
He smiled before reaching for Mackenzie’s hand, planting a small kiss on the back of her hand. “I guess this is where we part ways.”
“For now,” Mackenzie added.
“For now.” Zale’s grin widened.
“Let’s go,” I murmured to Mackenzie as I climbed to my feet. “We’ve already overstayed our welcome on this floor.”
We snuck out of the room, only opening the door far enough to slip out through it.
Checking for Rain operatives and breaking anti-fae charms as we moved, I led her to the elevators.
The wait for the elevator was an incredibly nervous one. The whole time, I swung my focus from side to side, expecting Zale to rush out to us, or for a Rain operative to discover us at any moment.
When the car finally arrived, I slid inside before the doors were even open, dragging a slightly dazed Mackenzie behind me. I jabbed the button for level four before pressing the one to close the doors repeatedly, trying to force us to move before anyone noticed the elevator was in use. I was surprised we’d made it out relatively easily. After the text regarding Clay’s situation, I’d expected a guard to be monitoring both floors.
Once the doors opened on level four, Mackenzie and I rushed from the elevator. Already knowing the way to my room and conscious of the fact that our actions were visible from the lobby, I tried to shield her from any prying eyes. I ensured she was beside me constantly, pulling her to one side so that I was between her and the glass barricades as I guided her along the hall.
As soon as we arrived in front of room 407, I breathed a small sigh of relief. I was certain we’d be safe there, at least as safe as we could be, until reinforcements could arrive. Being sure that I had the right card, I slid it into the lock before pushing the door halfway open with my shoulder. I let Mackenzie through first, turning to take one last glance at the hallway to ensure that no one was watching us with undue suspicion.
“Home sweet h—” I didn’t get to finish the sentence because a hand clamped over my mouth and another snaked around my waist to pin me against a solid body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MY FIRST INSTINCT was to fight, not the way that Clay had taught me to in Sweden but with the sunbird. The skin over my whole body heated instantly, but the person wrapped around me didn’t relinquish their hold. I struggled against my attacker even as I tried to comprehend exactly what was happening.
Besides me, and whoever was holding me, there were seven other people in the hotel room. I stopped fighting my captor for a moment to assess the situation. In one corner of the room, a young version of Abraham—with the same dark skin tones and short, curled hair—held Clay tightly against him. With a closer look, I recognized him as the Rain operative who’d been hunting with Ethan the day I’d almost been caught in the forest in Tallahassee.
One of the man’s well-muscled arms wrapped around Clay’s throat, and in his other hand, he held a gun pressed firmly against Clay’s temple. Defiance and anger flashed in Clay’s eyes as his focus shifted between my captor and me.
Louise and Abraham stood to one side, with matching, twisted smiles lighting up their features. Right in front of me, Troy had Mackenzie secured in his arms, one arm wrapped around her chest, his other forearm twisting her head into an awkward position as he pinned her back tightly to his chest. He carried her across the room in that position to join Louise and Abraham in their celebration.
The only one who appeared to be missing was Ethan. Even as the thought occurred to me, I saw the numbers 407 printed in my handwriting on the hand clamped around my mouth. My heart sank as it became clear he was the one who had captured me as I’d entered the room. It could only mean one thing.
Ethan was no longer on our side.
If he ever really had been.
The repeated doubts over Ethan's allegiance played in my mind in an encore performance.
I knew I couldn’t trust him. He’d accepted everything far too easily. I wondered if he was in on it the whole time, and it had been one big rouse to get Clay back or to get to me.
Once a Rain operative, always a Rain operative.
My eyes lifted to Clay; proof that being Rain and being tolerant were not mutually exclusive concepts. It was simply rare for them to coexist.
Feeling the weight of Ethan’s deception, my mind ran over the text that he’d sent me. He had to know I wouldn’t leave the hotel without Clay and that I’d return to the hotel room—it was what we’d discussed as a backup plan should anything go wrong. Did he tell his father every part of our plan? Had I signed a death warrant for the fae and myself by trusting him?
I tried to see any other logic in the situation, any other possible conclusion I could draw, but I couldn’t. He’d obviously double-crossed us. Why he’d gone to such an effort to help Clay and me out of the country a few months earlier, I didn’t know, but I could only assume that either it had been part of the rouse or the news about his heritage had caused him to reconsider his alliances. It could also be that he thought we lied to him about it and wanted some twisted form of revenge.
“I should have known you would be part of this,” Troy said as he glared at me. “You’ve caused my family nothing but trouble since the first moment my son laid eyes on you.”
“Eth told them everything,” Clay spat, his eyes flashing with a murderous intent. “He told them about Aiden and Fiona.”
At first, my heart pounded as I worried about our friends—about Clay’s mother—who would walk unknowingly into a trap because of the message I’d sent. My mind struggled to comprehend that Ethan had helped us for so many months—he’d kept the secret of my survival quiet and ferried us out of the country—only to give us up at such a crucial juncture.
Something Clay had said, or more something he hadn’t said, registered with me.
Why did he only mention Fiona and Aiden?
There were supposed to be five fae coming to meet us, not two. He knew that as well as I did. It was clear that his words had been deliberate; he was trying to convey a specific message to me through them. I narrowed my eyes at him, wanting him to communicate more but knowing he couldn’t in our current predicament.
From right behind my ear, the quietest whisper came. It was barely a breeze, but it was enough to carry the sound of two words, “Play along.”
Guilt swelled inside me that I had been so willing to doubt Ethan—so ready to assume that he had betrayed our secret. Even if he hadn’t earne
d my trust, Clay had. Clay deserved for me to have put more faith in Ethan than I had.
As that certainty grew, I was willing to believe that Ethan’s betrayal wasn’t real, that it was simply a ploy to let the other four think they had the numbers and the upper hand. I did as he asked and played along. I only wished I had some way of letting Mackenzie know too, so that her mind would be at ease. She would find out soon enough when the others showed up to help us—I hoped.
Twisting my head sharply to the side, I forced his hand to leave my mouth. “How could you do this to us?” I cried as I struggled against his arms, putting on a show but ensuring I remained as calm as I could so that my skin would stay somewhat cool. I didn’t want to burn him accidentally. “We trusted you.”
Ethan laughed. “You didn’t honestly think I would turn my back on my family or my heritage, did you?” I could hear the double meaning in his words. His arms dropped away from me. “Ouch, you bitch! You burned me!”
For a second I worried that I had inadvertently hurt him, but I didn’t see how that was possible when the heat had left me—at least as much of it as I could control. A second later, I understood it was part of the act and almost certainly part of his plan.
“A cold shower ought to cool you off,” he growled, clutching at the back of my neck in a way that no doubt appeared rough, but didn’t actually hurt. At least not unbearably. He shoved me in the direction of the bathroom.
“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you!” Clay shouted, fighting against his captor's hold. Curling his mouth into a scowl, the younger version of Abraham forced the gun barrel harder against Clay's temple to still his fight.
Once Ethan had separated us from the others, he gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this,” he murmured.
“About what?” I asked in a matching hush, desperate for specifics.
The next instant, I was in the shower under a cold stream of water. I cried out in shock as the water raced down my spine.
“Sorry, but it would look suspicious if you weren’t wet when we went back out there,” he whispered before shouting. “That’ll teach you for burning me, freak!”