Or would be dead soon.
The tide rattled over the stones, black and silver, like a chain. Dylan inhaled through clenched teeth, the weight of failure on his chest like the pressure of a deep dive. He was not a warden or a cop. He did not have Conn’s power or Caleb’s position. But he was here. Regina was counting on him. Nick needed him. He had to find a link to Nick.
Or the kid could die.
Dylan ground his jaw. What did he know about links and connections? He’d spent the past twenty years avoiding human contact, cutting all human ties. He was out of his element, he’d confessed to Regina. In over his head. But he’d be damned before he’d leave her to sink or swim alone.
The sea reached long, pale fingers over the rocks, plucking at his feet. Through the clouds, the moon shimmered like a silver coin at the bottom of a bucket.
Dylan’s breath caught. Like a coin . . .
* * *
“Bleeding, yes,” Antonia said into the phone. Regina watched dully from the kitchen stool. “I don’t know, I’ll ask her. Did you throw up?” she asked her daughter.
Regina swallowed hard and shook her head. She hadn’t wanted this baby. It was a mistake. An inconvenience. A disaster. But it was hers now, hers and Dylan’s. She crossed her arms over her stomach as if she could hold it inside.
“No vomiting,” Antonia told the doctor, her fingers almost blue, wrapped tight around the phone cord. “No, I haven’t taken her temperature. All right. Yes, we will. I’ll tell her.”
Antonia hung up. “Donna wants to see you at the clinic. She’ll be out front in ten minutes to pick you up.”
Regina bit her lip. “Can’t she examine me here? The phone . . .”
Antonia scowled. “I’ll take care of the phone. You take care of yourself.”
Herself and the baby. Regina’s hand crept to the cross around her neck; fingered the pearl. Her son was out there somewhere, lost. She couldn’t lose this baby, too. Heaven couldn’t be so cruel.
“Ten minutes?”
“That’s what she said.” Antonia’s mouth set in a hard, grim line. Her eyes were dark and concerned. She fumbled in her apron pocket for her cigarettes; put them back again. “You need anything from upstairs?”
Regina forced a smile for her mother’s sake. “Thanks, Ma. I’m good.”
Antonia’s work-roughened hand smoothed her daughter’s hair. “The best,” she said.
Another cramp ripped her like a knife. Regina closed her eyes and leaned into her mother’s hand.
* * *
Dylan called the wind to his sails until they swelled full-bellied as the moon. Another sign? he wondered. Or an illusion?
The silver dollar he had given Nick beamed a steady signal like the lighthouse at the island’s edge or a dot on Conn’s map of the world. The water rippled white under his prow, following the coin’s pull like a compass needle drawn true north. The boat moved by magic between the dark and the deep, between the vastness brimming with life below and a greater vastness sprinkled with stars. This was Dylan’s element. His lips peeled back from his teeth. The demons had invaded his territory.
But there were a thousand islands off the coast of Maine, mostly uninhabited fortresses of spruce and stone, incursions of molten magma through the earth’s crust. Nick could be hidden anywhere. Or lying at the bottom of the sea. The fire spawn could have tossed him overboard as a warning or out of spite.
From another shore, the sea birds keened over something dead.
“He has no value to them.”
“Please, bring him back to me.”
Dylan clenched the rudder and thought about the coin. Focused on the coin. As long as he felt that small, bright tug, he allowed himself to hope.
* * *
“You can’t blame yourself.” Donna Tomah’s voice was gentle and compassionate. Her eyes were bright and cold. Regina pressed her thighs together, shivering under the stupid paper sheet. “There’s no evidence that either sexual activity or stress can cause an abortion.”
“Not her fault” was good. But . . .
“Miscarriage,” Regina corrected.
The doctor raised her eyebrows. “I was speaking medically.”
Regina felt her face turn red. “Right. So, can you stop it?”
Donna hesitated. “Often an abortion— or miscarriage, if you prefer— can’t be prevented. And shouldn’t be. It’s usually an indication that the pregnancy isn’t normal.”
Regina supposed having a selkie father and a human mother qualified as unusual. But Dylan had said the baby was normal. Human. For now. “Is something wrong with my baby?”
“It’s possible.”
Just this once, Regina wished she had a hand to hold when somebody delivered bad news. She bunched her fists at her waist, wrinkling the paper sheet. “How can you tell?”
“We can’t, unfortunately.”
“Then why the hell am I here? What are you going to do?”
“We need to confirm that your pregnancy is in fact terminating,” Donna said steadily. “We’ll do a pelvic exam, possibly an ultrasound. If the uterus is clear, then there’s nothing else we need to do.”
So clinical. So cold. Regina’s heart tightened in her chest. “And if it’s not?”
Donna Tomah smiled. “Let’s just see, shall we? Lie down.”
A chill slithered down her spine. She didn’t want to lie down. She felt exposed and vulnerable enough already. She didn’t want to put her feet in the metal stirrups and open herself up to more disappointment.
Regina moistened her lips. “What if the uterus isn’t . . . You know. Clear.”
“We would take steps to prevent infection.”
Steps. Misgiving contracted her stomach, sharp as a cramp. Uh-oh. “Antibiotics?”
“Let’s get the pelvic over with before we decide on a plan of treatment,” the doctor said.
Which made sense. It did. Regina opened her mouth to agree. Heard herself say, “I think I’ll come back in the morning.”
Donna’s pleasant smile set. Well, she probably wasn’t happy at being dragged from her dinner and whatever was on TV tonight just so Regina could refuse medical attention. “We could be busy.”
“I have an appointment,” Regina reminded her. “Ten o’clock. I’ll come then.”
Donna stiffened. “That’s not a good idea.”
Antonia used to complain that the surest way to get Regina to do something was to tell her not to do it. “Attitude,” her teachers said. “Bitch,” Alain called her. Resistance tended to make her stubborn.
She was uncertain and sick and afraid, but she wasn’t giving up her baby. Dylan’s baby. Whether their child was the fulfillment of some selkie prophecy or not, he was precious to her. She was not giving up.
“I’ll take my temperature. I’ll call if I run a fever. In the morning, if I’m still having . . .” She swallowed against the constriction of her bruised throat. “Problems, I’ll come back.”
So reasonable, her voice. Nothing in her words betrayed the small animal panic stirring inside her like a mouse spooked by the shadow of an owl.
For a moment, she thought the doctor was going to argue with her, and the panic grew claws that raked her gut.
Donna sighed. Shrugged. “I can’t keep you here. Let me just make a few notes, and then I’ll drop you at home.” She pursed her lips. “Unless there’s someone you want to call to pick you up?”
Half the island had turned out to help in the search for Nick. And her mother was waiting at home by the phone.
Regina gave a quick shake of her head, feeling oddly let down and relieved. “A ride home would be great. Thanks.”
While Donna scrawled on her chart, Regina eased off the end of the exam room table, reaching for her pants.
“I’ll be just a minute,” Donna said and disappeared through the door.
Regina released her breath. Her hands were shaking, she noticed in surprise. Well, it had been a long day. Stressful. And it wasn’t over yet.
The doctor’s words came back to her. “There’s no evidence that stress can cause an abortion.”
Regina straightened slowly, one hand at her back.
“All set.” Donna bustled back into the room carrying a big quilted bag and a paper medicine cup. “These are for you.”
Regina looked down at the white pills, six-sided like little stop signs. Her stomach rolled. “What are they?”
“Antibiotics.” The doctor’s smile did not waver. “In case of infection.”
No, Regina thought instinctively. And then, Why not?
She half extended her hand to take the cup.
The spiral tattoo on her wrist glowed with a faint blue light.
Donna hissed and recoiled.
Regina’s heart lurched to her throat. Her pulse hammered. Carefully she turned her hand to hide the glowing mark. If she could just pretend . . . If she could get away . . .
She crumpled the paper cup between her thumb and forefinger. “Thanks,” she said again. Her voice rasped. “I’ll take them as soon as I get home.”
If she got home. She sidled along the edge of the table.
Oh, God, get me out of here.
Donna stepped between her and the door, her eyes glinting weirdly. “You really should take them now.”
“I . . .” Shit. “I just want to go home.”
“Take them.”
“Later.”
“Now.”
“No.”
Their gazes locked. Regina’s stomach pitched. She was warded, she reminded herself. Protected. The thing looking out of Donna’s eyes couldn’t force her to take them. Couldn’t stop her from leaving.
Donna— or whatever alien being possessed Donna— recovered itself enough to smile slowly. “Your choice. But I think you’ll stay and take your medicine. Or you’ll never see your son again.”
18
THE FOG ROSE FROM THE WATER, SWALLOWING the sea and Dylan’s sails, drowning the hummocks of land. Dylan gave himself up to the dripping twilight, letting it film his skin and bead on his eyelashes, wrapping himself and his boat in mists and shadows to follow the pull of his personal star.
He was very near to Nick. He could feel it. As if they played a game from his childhood: cool, warm, warmer . . .
His senses heightened— an animal’s on the hunt. An island loomed out of the sea like a kraken, smooth and dripping, covered with knobs and weeds, dotted with eyes. His heartbeat quickened. His muscles tightened.
Warmer . . . HOT.
Nick was here. Alone? Alive?
The rounded shape resolved into a long, curved wall. The eyes became a row of windows, square and blank. A fort. The coast was dotted with them, abandoned bunkers of brick and stone built to protect harbors and towns from the Spanish, the English, the Nazis.
Dylan snarled silently as the scent of ash blew to him on the wind. Or maybe not abandoned after all.
* * *
Regina’s mouth dried. The edges of her vision grayed until all she could see were those bright, knowing eyes and that horrible, taunting smile.
“Nick,” she whispered.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, not—
“Nick,” the thing with Donna’s face confirmed with a nod. “Sucks for you, doesn’t it? You have to decide which child you want to save. The baby blob or . . . your little boy.”
Regina’s chest hurt. Her mind spun. She couldn’t breathe. Where was Dylan? Where was Caleb? Oh, God, where was Nick?
“Don’t hurt him.” Was that her voice, that begging, breathless whisper? “Don’t kill him. Please.”
“Kill him?” The doctor cocked her head as if considering the possibility. “Oh, I don’t think we’ll do that.”
“I don’t think”?
A trickle of rage dripped through the icy ball of fear in Regina’s gut. But the fear was greater.
“You don’t want him,” she said, her voice shaking. “He’s not . . .”
“He has no value to them,” Dylan had said.
“He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Regina finished.
“No, he doesn’t, does he?” Donna agreed pleasantly. “What a shame, for the child to have to suffer for the sins of the mother.”
Suffer. Oh, Nick . . .
Regina’s hands clenched helplessly, convulsively.
The thing smiled slyly, watching her, enjoying her reaction. “But you’re wrong to think we don’t want him. Some of us have been forced to take human form for some time, living in camps, sleeping in the rough. A little distraction, a fresh . . . sensation, would be welcome. And Nick is such a pretty boy. So . . . clean.”
Anger rose like bile in Regina’s throat, sick and bitter.
“Take the pills, Regina.” The thing’s voice hardened. “And maybe we’ll let him go.”
Maybe?
Blind, white rage geysered inside Regina. She wanted to kill the devil woman in front of her with her bare hands. Wanted to gouge and bite, scratch and kick, with outraged maternal instinct.
But her rage, her instincts, wouldn’t save Nick. This devil had no intention of letting him go. They would use him to control her and then abuse him because they could.
Unless she stopped them. Unless, for once in her life, she was careful and smart.
She met Donna’s bright, malicious eyes and saw Evil peering out at her. She clenched her hands. Raised her chin. “How do I know you’ll do what you say?”
The thing’s mouth stretched in a grotesque imitation of a smile. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Trust me,” Dylan said.
Yes. The choice had never been so clear or so hard. She couldn’t do this alone.
She must, she did, trust Dylan to deliver Nick, to save her child any way he could.
Just as she would fight for their baby with everything she had. Fight to buy him time.
She loosened her clutch on the crumpled cup to reveal the pills inside. Cleared her throat. “You gave me something else before.”
“Methotrexate.” The demon watched her closely. “Did you take them all?”
“I . . .” Regina’s mind blanked. Should she lie? Keep her talking. Keep an eye on the door.
The demon shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. These will finish the job. Take your medicine now, like a good girl.”
Regina stiffened her spine. “Not unless you tell me what they are.”
The demon made a dismissive sound. “Why bother? It’s not like you’re a doctor.”
“Neither are you,” Regina shot back.
Donna Tomah seemed to grow before her eyes. “I know more than you ever will, you ignorant little slut.” Her voice was guttural and deep. “I am ageless. I am immortal. One of the First Creation who saw the stars when your kind were wriggling in the muck.”
“Then why are you so afraid?”
“I am not afraid!” the demon shouted.
Regina shrugged to disguise the fact that she couldn’t breathe. Her heart thundered in her ears. “Whatever.”
“You’re just human. And not even a particularly successful human. A miserable little cook who got knocked up so you wouldn’t have to take responsibility for your own failures.”
Regina winced as the demon’s words slid through her ribs to touch a tender spot. Ouch.
“You should be grateful I’m delivering you from repeating your mistakes.”
“Grateful,” Regina repeated. Anger elbowed for space in her chest.
The devil’s eyes danced with delight. “Well, it’s not as if you had a future with Aqua Man, is it? You know how those selkies are. Four or five quick ones, and they’re back to sea with the boys.”
Regina could barely speak around the burning lump in her throat. “I didn’t know.”
“And now you do. Take the pills,” the demon urged almost gently. “Save your son. Save yourself.”
Regina could barely think anymore. Loss of blood, lack of sleep, and worry over Nick had drained her. Her head was full of white noise like the T
V when the cable went out.
“I need . . .” Time. “Water,” she choked out.
“Of course.” Donna filled a cup at the tap, held it out solicitously. “This will make everything easier,” she said. “You’ll see.”
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