Unwanted

by Mari LaRoche

Food helped with the niggling nausea as well. Through the windows, the dusk fell fast, the water deepening to inky black, the stars opening up above them.

  Amir took a sip of wine, noting the direction of her gaze. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  "Yes. I wish they would look like this on land."

  She went to her cabin. For a moment, she considered trying to meditate again, then decided Ušum would talk when she was ready. Her decision was in no way influenced by the hope that no more naked memories would cross her mind.

  Viv was tired and just wanted to sleep. Settling into the bed felt good, though the mattress was softer than she liked. Weariness hadn’t stopped dogging her all day. Nightmare followed sleep like a lion after a gazelle, pinning her in iron jaws.

  She thrashed in a pit, skin a sheet of agony. Cruel laughter and whispers she couldn’t understand filled her ears. The fire of her fear and rage melted into desolation over time. Letting go was hard when there was still so much to see, but the fluid pressure within her chest stole her life, bit by bit, sinking into blackness.

  Vivian woke, sitting up, struggling to breathe, covered in cold sweat. That was death, long and torturous.

  I’m sorry. You snatched it from me when you meditated. You’re stronger than you think, and it’s my most recent memory.

  She didn’t want to be alone right now, so she stripped off her old pajamas, put on new ones, and knocked on Amir’s stateroom door. “It’s me.”

  “Come in.”

  She flicked the light on. He swung his feet off the bunk, wearing long loose pants. A stone or shell on a leather strip hung around his neck; it glittered with an opalescent sheen though it was black.

  “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

  “Bad dreams.” She rubbed her hands on her arms, hesitating on the threshold. There was nowhere to sit. After a pause, he patted the bunk next to him.

  She took the invitation, shoulders slumped, the last dregs of the dream clinging to her. She wanted a distraction. “Tell me about peri. About daoine sidhe.”

  He laughed. “Tall order, madam librarian. Like asking someone to tell the history of France and China.”

  “Fine; give me the short version.”

  “People, to start with. Fallible and mutable as humans.”

  “Who live for centuries. Do all the nonhumans?”

  “No; some have a similar lifespan to humans. And some peri and daoine sidhe have shorter lifespans as well. It’s a complicated question.” He leaned against the wall.

  She, lured by the hope of comfort, settled next to him. He hugged her to him. As had started recently, the conflict in her began, both yearning to be held and worry about the yearning.

  “Daoine sidhe are the children of the DayKing. He molded them from fire and light, and they started competing for his attention seconds after their first steps. They’re a proud bunch and spend their lives struggling with each other and everyone else, to prove that they’re the best. At everything. Most lack anything resembling empathy because they fight from babyhood for time and attention.”

  “Donal didn’t act like that, from the little I’ve seen. Nia though, a little.”

  “He has his moments. Donal was a changeling; stolen from his mother and placed among humans to embarrass his parents. They didn’t find him for years, and by then, he’d absorbed some different lessons.” Amir sighed. “Scratch the skin, though, and he’s a daoine sidhe; don’t expect mercy or compassion if he’s angry or your enemy. He and Morgan have a complicated relationship, partly because he and Ušumgallu were lovers when Morgan killed her. He hasn’t forgiven the Chief of Chiefs for that. We decided to work together soon after that, to protect the next Seer.”

  Vivian suppressed the urge to ask him if he knew how the seer had died. “Were you enemies?”

  “No. We have a common interest and enough of a history that I’ll let him get away with actions I’d deal harshly with from anyone else, and he does the same. At the end of the day, he’s an annoying ass. Nia, on the other hand, has had a difficult life because her parents are from different kins, both proud and unwilling to accept a half-blood. Her mother was a rakshasa. When she was a child, her mother’s people sent her to Morgan as part of a treaty agreement, which both sides broke a year later. But Donal and she bonded during that time, so she wasn’t killed.”

  “So, they’re bigots.”

  “Yes. But the more often the kins mix, the more reduced the abilities of the children; some who come from a very mixed background are called muddled or thin-blooded. They’re barely different from humans, only they know about our world. They aren’t treated well. Nia—she’s dealt with all the nastiness two peoples have thrown her. She’s touchy, but she’s deadly to go with it. A good ally when you’re in a fight. I think she’d make a good friend if you can get past the claws.”

  The warmth of him comforted like a weighted blanket as she considered his statement.

  “Will we really have to go into the sea if things turn out badly?” Her voice was very small, reluctance dragging at her.

  A gentle laugh puffed against her hair. “I know you don’t like the idea. But if the alternative is death, then we’ll take it. Your…predecessor…was friendly with the Sea King as well, long ago.”

  Reluctant amusement stirred in Vivian. “She seems to have gotten around.”

  Another laugh from Amir. It sounded forced. “She was a generous creature and full of life.”

  Viv settled against his chest, leaning farther until his heart sounded like a drumbeat in her ear, drowning the sound of the water. Amir pulled her into his lap.

  Her heart beat faster. The strange feeling of anticipation made her stiffen. She consciously relaxed again. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant.

  On a quiet breath, she asked, “Do you think of me as her?” Unspoken, her question whether he liked her as herself or as an echo of a woman long dead.

  His arms tightened around her. “I think that you’re her reincarnation, yes. Too many small details are similar. But I care for you, Vivian, as well as her, and I would not want to see you subsumed.”

  There’s my Amir. The voice held affection.

  Go away, Viv wished her.

  “Does anyone know anything about that kind of thing?”

  “No. I only knew her mother wrestled the Seer’s essence away from Death because she told me she did it just before she banished me from Godhome. I think…you might regain some of the Seer’s memories, but who you are now is the base—which might be a surprise to some waiting. And funny when Donal realizes it. I plan to enjoy him explaining how he wasn’t really wrong, merely incorrect.” A butterfly kiss brushed her temple. “Depending on if you regain old memories, you’ll think it’s hilarious too.”

  And that’s why I want out of you; Fate intended us to merge. And I think you would be submerged. Ušum’s voice held concern. I’m leaving now. Do what I would, you’ll enjoy it!

  In the sense of absence, Viv turned and tentatively brought her lips to Amir’s.

  He cupped his hand behind her head and kissed her back. It was more than pleasant, and after a moment, she pulled back, panting. He tugged her back, resting her head on his chest. His heart beat as quickly as hers.

  She didn’t sleep again when they fell quiet, and she counted his breaths in a small pool of calm, waiting for the morning. A few hours had passed when a muffled pop knocked her out of that pool. Amir rose fast, eyes alert.

  “Gunshot.”

  She slid out of the bed. He followed, his bare feet making no sound.

  The doorknob rattled, and Amir pressed her back against the wall.

  Amir glanced at her, eyes calculating. “Get away from me once I open the door. Try to get on deck.”

  Two more shots, and the door splintered around the knob. With a solid kick, the younger deckhand rushed in, his handgun swinging into line on Viv. A buzz zipped by her ear.

  Amir tackled him. Vivian ran out of the room, hoping Amir knew what he was doing.

&
nbsp; Another shot rang out behind her. The captain lay in the salon, sprawled on the floor, unmoving. His chest stirred, and relief flooded Viv.

  “What the hell, man?”

  Viv’s head snapped up.

  The dark-haired deckhand stood in the corridor in front of her, coming down from the deck. His hand gripped his opposite arm as blood dripped between his fingers. “Oh my god, Captain Wilson’s shot, too!”

  Viv had to step over the captain’s unconscious body to get through the narrow salon. The wounded man leaned against the gangway, clutching his arm, face pale with shock.

  She grabbed his shirt and pulled him with her back onto the deck.

  Once they got outside, the chef stepped forward from where the dinghy hung. She held another gun, pointed directly at them.

  10

  “Please stay right where you are.” The firearm wavered in the thin woman’s hand.

  “What’s going on?” The dark-haired hand wobbled, even with Viv steadying him.

  Viv’s fear of water encountered her fear of getting shot and retired quietly to the background as Viv stared at the other woman.

  The chef’s blue eyes were glazed and wide, the area around them shiny with a thick white layer of lotion. “You can’t see them as they truly are, but they’re evil, and they need to be stopped.”

  The faery ointment Donal had mentioned. How did she see Viv?

  “They’ve got everyone fooled, but the Morgan showed us how to see through the disguises. The Morgan will save us if we catch the two demons and take them to her.” The chef sounded as if she were saying the words by rote.

  “What the hell are you talking about? You’re holding a gun on us?” Blood spattered the deck as the deckhand shook his fist and then flinched.

  The woman’s eyes flickered in confusion, and Viv grabbed the opportunity. If she was going to be shot, she preferred to have it happen while acting.

  Pale anger flickered through her as she lunged. Skin burned on her chest and arms as her world narrowed to the gun and expected pain, and fire shot through her shoulder as another shot rang out. Viv’s ears buzzed as she grabbed the gun, forcing it up. The other woman’s finger broke with a loud crack as Viv yanked the gun out of her hand. The chef screamed.

  Very good!

  The chef cradled her hand as Viv pointed the gun at her. Viv’s shoulder throbbed, but not with as much pain as she would have expected, nor was she bleeding that she could tell. Her mind flashed to the knife in Nia’s hand slamming into her claws.

  Was she bulletproof now?

  For the moment; the hide came when called. It’s fading, you can’t sustain it for long, yet.

  Amir, blood running down his side, burst onto the deck. Apparently, he wasn’t bulletproof, and concern surged through Viv as she tried to keep her adrenaline-shaky aim on the chef.

  The dark-haired deckhand leaned against the wall. “Let’s get her into one of the staterooms until we figure this out.”

  The two men and Viv followed her down. The other crewman lay on the floor, half inside Amir’s stateroom, unmoving. The captain stirred and groaned. Amir dragged the unconscious man fully into the stateroom while the chef, Viv still covering her with the gun, entered the other.

  Amir set chairs under the door handles to lock them into the rooms before crouching by the captain.

  “What if there’s a fire?” The remaining crewman was paler than Viv liked. Shock must have set in.

  She clicked the safety on and set the gun down. Then, she pulled out the first aid kit.

  His upper left arm still bled freely. The captain, now conscious, had no visible bleeding, and Amir’s shirt was bloodstained, but Viv couldn’t see a wound under his ripped shirt.

  She applied pressure to the wound.

  “What happened?” Captain Wilson squinted at Amir as Viv worked.

  “One of your crew shot through the door to try to get at me. It looks like he might have had a break with reality; I’m not sure.” Amir settled in one of the chairs after helping the captain into another.

  The bleeding stopped.

  “He shot at me too, sir. He said these two were demons and needed to be stopped.” The remaining crewman’s voice climbed in pitch. It ended in a squeak as Viv put a pad over the wounded area and secured it with tape and gauze. An actual doctor with equipment would have to deal with it beyond stopping the bleeding. He went silent and tight-lipped with pain as she finished the process.

  Her shoulder throbbed. She touched it with her fingertips. It was warm even through her clothing. Her guess was that she would have an enormous bruise there, which was still better than a bullet hole.

  "We’re paid for danger, but we weren’t paid enough for this." The captain squinted at Amir. "We're going to be heading back as soon as we can get everyone stable, and I can see straight. Enjoy your few minutes here. At least, we made it to the area you requested."

  Viv moved to Amir, and he shook his head. “I’m fine. It was just a scratch.”

  She pushed his t-shirt up. His right side had a long wound that looked worse than a scratch but had clotted over.

  She looked up and met his eyes. Amir gazed down, a worried crease between his brows.

  “Thank you for your help, Ms. Rivera.” Captain Wilson closed his eyes. “We’ll be underway shortly.”

  Viv jumped as the confined deckhand began pounding on the stateroom door. “Let me out! They’ll kill us!”

  The sound was too much for her. She hurried up to the deck even though the salty breeze evoked other fears. She shivered, her pajamas not enough to keep her warm. Clustered around the ship, the transparent people dove and surfaced, eyes turned up to the deck. Viv looked away.

  "How are you?" Amir, soft-footed, was at her side. He took a few steps forward and leaned on the railing, gazing down at the water. He gave no sign he saw the people flitting through the waves.

  Vivian jumped. “What do we do now?”

  “Morgan must have got to his people some time ago, set them up as sleeper agents. Neither of them is likely to be salvageable. The others will have been programmed, too, it’s just taking longer for it to surface. They must be resistant. Some humans are.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “They’re victims, but it’s them or us unless we choose a third option.” Sadness darkened his features. "Are you willing to do what it takes?"

  Vivian inhaled deeply. She gazed up as dawn began in the east, then turned to face Amir. "Yes. I pick the third option. I’m not going to kill people if I don’t have to."

  Remember, you made that decision.

  Not. Helping.

  Amir pulled out his phone. “Are you ready?”

  Viv stared at him quizzically as he stowed his phone in a waterproof case.

  In a move so rapid she didn't have any time to think, Amir closed an arm around her and tipped her chin up, taking her lips in a long deep kiss. Thoughts fluttered away like birds, confusion at the action, startlement at the sensation’s pleasantness. On impulse, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing against him.

  Warm and tingly, even better than the first. What did it have to do with the current situation? She enjoyed the strange but pleasant sensations right up to the point where Amir took them both backward over the railing.

  The cold water engulfed them.

  Did I mention he can be a bastard?

  Even though she’d guessed this was coming, terror swallowed her whole.

  11

  The shock of impact stole her breath. Surfacing, Viv spat water and sucked in a desperate lungful of air. Around her, the translucent people dove and rose, swift and graceful, before hands fastened on her arms and hair and dragged her below the surface. They tumbled in the water as she flailed and struggled.

  Viv clawed at the hands holding her, fighting, as more and more of them piled on her, clinging to her limbs, weighing her down. They dragged her to Amir’s side as he thrust his arm in the center of a circular shape, large en
ough to engulf him plus Viv’s struggling form. The gate he’d mentioned, perhaps?

  Frothing bubbles appeared around them, and a sudden current sucked them forward through and then away from the dimming circle.

  All of the creatures restraining Viv arrowed away, and Amir grabbed her arm. He dove, dragging her with him. Her lungs screamed, and her eyes burned from the salt. Frigid, dark water swirled around her. She fought the urge to inhale.

  Strong hands grabbed her other arm and hauled her forward. Like a bubble popping, the water vanished. Air!

  She inhaled the sweet, sweet substance.

  Light kindled around her, a thin bluish green that only illuminated the immediate area. It shone from the walls and the surface she crouched on, casting a chilly glow.

  They stood in a gigantic, translucent bubble, somehow anchored on a thin, flexible platform. Vivian couldn’t identify what the platform was made of; it supported their weight but gave under her steps, making her fight for balance. Spongy, but not the muck of the sea bottom—what supported it? The air bubble and platform formed a tunnel It stretched into darkness, relieved only by glimmers of light from phosphorescent fish.

  Rage at Amir and the situation swept through her like a cleansing wind, wiping out all other considerations. The seawater fizzed against her skin, filling her with conflicting urges—to lash out with teeth and claws or cruel words.

  Words couldn’t contain her anger, and she screamed, venting it, setting herself free of it.

  The huge bellow of her voice made ripples quake through the thin edge shielding them from the water. It lacerated her ears, huge and filled with echoes of a hunting cry—an orca’s song, a lion’s roar, the cry of a stooping hawk, all rolled together in a single noise that could not come out of a human throat.

  Yes, that’s it. Very good. Let them know you’re to be feared; this isn’t a peaceful place.

  Amir slapped his hands over his ears, wincing. The pain in her throat doubled, and she gagged, holding her neck as the echoes faded. With the echoes, her anger settled, and she swayed on her feet.