In the dark, everything was exaggerated. The trees seemed taller, the branches cracking under her feet sounded louder; the howl of an animal was more threatening. She stumbled over a stone and hopped to catch her balance.
Shoving her hands into her pockets, she kept moving, until she was so deep in the forest that she couldn’t see the moon anymore.
Eventually, she came to a hut in the woods. A small sliver of light shone out from under the shabby wooden door. She remembered he’d told her about staying in a shack in the woods. Was this the place he’d been talking about?
Tiptoeing up to the door, she pulled it open, praying she’d find Dylan and not some backwoods hermit with a beer gut.
Dylan was inside, all right. Staring at pictures of the victims, pictures of the crime scenes—a map littered with thumbtacks. It wouldn’t have been so alarming if the pictures weren’t everywhere.
If he weren’t pacing back and forth in front of them like a wild man. If, pasted in the center of it all, she hadn’t seen the picture of her father.
He whirled around when she gasped. His blue eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open. “Mykaela, I can explain.”
She fell back a step, as her eyes searched the picture of her father, hoping his face would change into somebody else’s. She took off in a run, and he bolted after her.
She ran through the forest, weaving around trees. She heard a loud whoosh, and then Dylan was in front of her. She screamed and turned in the other direction. He called her name, but she was too afraid to stop. She couldn’t see a thing, but still she ran. She stumbled over rocks, and her foot caught on branches. She was lost; she didn’t know which direction her home was in. She was lost in the woods with a killer.
Her heart pounded as her feet carried her in a direction she didn’t recognize. Ahead of her, the woods cleared out in a giant semicircle. Maybe she could lose him on the other side of it.
She ran for the opposite edge of the open area like nothing else existed. As she neared it, she could see it wasn’t a clearing, but a cliff. How could she not have realized she was nearing Little Rock, where Charity was killed?
She tried to stop, but as she reached the edge, her toe slammed into a rock and pitched her forward.
She was freefalling through the air, face first and headed straight toward the water. She screamed, sure the impact would kill her. Then, suddenly, Dylan was beneath her, blocking her view of the ocean. He clutched his arms tight around her, and her skin chilled at his touch. Eyes squeezed shut, Mykaela shrieked as they plummeted into the cold sea together.
Chapter Fourteen
Hunted
The water crashed up around their joined bodies and swallowed them. It invaded her lungs, blinded her vision. The force of the fall buried them under thirty feet or more of water, and she didn’t have a chance to hold her breath.
They were too far under. They would both die, she was sure of it. But, with the wave of one arm, Dylan sent them both soaring to the surface.
Mykaela gasped a deep breath just before her head went under again. She flailed her arms and legs, managing to surface and keep her head above water.
“Just hold still, I’ve got you.” Dylan’s blond hair hung in damp ringlets around his eyes.
She stopped moving and let him support her weight while she caught her breath and wiped her matted hair out of her face. Coughing and sputtering, she tried to calm herself.
They were miles from shore. The only land in sight was a hundred feet above them. Bubbles of panic rose again, and, as if sensing her distress, Dylan tightened his grip around her waist.
“We have to get out of the water,” he said. “Just hold on tight.”
She didn’t even have a chance to question him before he closed his eyes in concentration. Suddenly, the water rose straight up, like a whirlpool above the surface. It spit them out on top of the cliff before splashing back down in the ocean.
She wanted to kiss the ground. Propping her elbows up, she looked over to where he was sprawled next to her. “What the hell was that?”
He pressed his forehead into the ground, clutching handfuls of the grass. When he lifted his head, the moonlight spilled across his face, illuminating the sharp angles. The corners of his lips turned down in an expression that made his entire face taut, as if his skin might snap if she touched it.
“What just happened?” She repeated, panting from her second near-death experience, still not moving from her position on her elbows and knees. “Dylan.”
Pushing to his feet, he walked over to the edge of the cliff. He wiped his face with one hand, curled the other into a fist.
She stared at him in awe, unsure of whether to be frightened or intrigued. “You just saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.”
Instead of his usual soft, polite voice, his tone sounded cold and almost angry. “I don’t understand.” She wished he would turn around, but she was scared to approach him. He’d controlled the water—she’d seen him do it—eerily similar to the way the water was controlled by someone or something when she almost drowned with Charity. Nevertheless, he’d saved her…unlike before when someone tried to kill her. That meant something, didn’t it? That was a sign he wasn’t dangerous, right? “How did you catch me? How did you get us back up here?”
She waited for an answer that didn’t come, keeping her gaze on him as if she could decipher his stiff posture and silence and find the hidden answer. Standing at the edge of the cliff, he didn’t move, except for the fists that trembled at his sides.
“Dylan, would you talk to me?” She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, but he jerked violently away from her. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking of me.”
She didn’t understand any of what happened, and needed him to explain, even if it hurt him to do so. “I mean, I have these feelings for you. These really…strong feelings.” Her voice cracked and tears welled up in her eyes. He turned to face her, watching her.
“I can’t help but feel as if it’s all some kind of illusion. I don’t really know anything about you. I don’t know where you’re from or who you are or why you seem to show up right when I need you. Or why you can’t let me in.”
The fear on his face gave way to sympathy. His hands trembled as he reached out, tangling his fingers through her drenched hair. “Then know one thing.” His lips quivered. “Know that you are the only person I’ve cared about in a very long time.”
“Then explain this to me.”
“I told you, Mykaela.” He spoke as if speaking the words burned his throat. “There are things about me you should never know.” The pain was blatantly displayed on his face. It was in the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes drooped and his lips refused to smile.
“This is impossible.” She remembered how hard their bodies hit the water, and the loud smack that sounded like bones snapping.
He still refused to look her in the eye. “I’m dead, Mykaela.”
A chill crawled up her spine. “You can’t be dead. You’re standing right here with me.”
“I died in 1857. I jumped from this cliff, and the water trapped my soul.”
She shook her head. “That’s impossible.”
“It turned me into a monster. A Son of the Sea.”
“That’s just a legend…it’s folklore. It’s not real.”
“Think about it. I have no shadow, no reflection—because I have no soul.” He kept his eyes locked on hers, as if trying to scare her away. “Plants die around me. I don’t even breathe. And you saw how I controlled the water.”
Her mind searched for some rational explanation, something that would root those coincidences in the real world. Then she remembered Dylan’s words that day they’d gone over the newspaper articles and documents that painted her father as a serial killer. Is rational discounting anything ‘fantastic’ because it can’t exist, or is rational admitting that there are things beyond our understanding?
“My heart doesn’t beat. My blood doesn’t pump. I’ll stay exactly as I was the day I jumped from that cliff—forever.”
“It’s true? The legend…it’s true.” She stepped back and stared at the ground. “You’re a merman?”
He laughed. “No. I don’t sprout fins, or anything. I just…belong to the water now.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She’d never given much thought to mythology or non-human creatures. While she’d like to believe in fairy godmothers, leprechauns, and all things magical, she’d always considered them products of overactive imaginations.
“I freak you out.” He darted his gaze to the trees behind her. “It’s okay.”
“No,” she said quickly. “Well…yeah…but it’s just so…”
“Unbelievable?” He nodded, moving forward. “I felt the same way when I found out.”
“So…you’re immortal?”
He nodded.
He’s so old. She felt guilty, thinking of Dylan that way, but it was the first thought that popped into her head. She struggled to contain the fear that fought for control of her actions, that little voice inside her head telling her to run. She wouldn’t run from him. He’d saved her life—twice—and he’d stood up to Brad for her. Dylan meant her no harm, that was the only thing she knew for certain. “Then why the hell are you interested in me?” She asked, laughing. She’d hoped to break the ice, make him a little more comfortable when he seemed so worried, but mostly she was serious. He’d seen and done so much—she was just a small-town girl.
He chuckled and pulled her to him. “There’s something about you. I can’t figure it out. You’re so…I don’t know.” He trailed his thumb across her lips, rested his forehead against hers and slid his fingers up her neck. “It was selfish of me to come here. To involve you.” He tore away from her, disgusted with himself. “Now, I’ve put you in danger.”
“What do you mean by danger?”
“The murders. They’re because of me.” He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “I ran away ten years ago and disgraced my kingdom. Because of that, everywhere I go, people die. They’re trying to force me to go back. Or make me miserable—I don’t know, but those girls are dead, and it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill them.”
“You don’t know what my ‘family’ is like. They’re vicious, brutal, and they’re determined to turn more people into monsters. I led them here. You’ve seen what they do to strangers who have nothing to do with me. Imagine what they’ll do to you.” He stared at her for a long time before speaking. “I have to leave.”
For a minute, she was sure he was crazy, but then something in his eyes made her believe. Then the thought of living without him in her life, without seeing that shy half-smile or hearing the Irish accent, thrust her into tears. “No. You can’t—“
He gripped her shoulders so tightly, his fingers dug into her skin. “The only thing I can’t do is let you get hurt. I won’t let it happen. As long as I’m here, you’ll never be safe.”
“You’ve got that right.”
Mykaela and Dylan whirled around at the voice, to see Brad at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree.
Dylan stepped in front of Mykaela as Brad took slow steps toward them.
“Years ago, Dad first told me about Souls of the Sea.” His emphasis of the term made it sound even more ridiculous. Walking toward them, his smile faded into a bitter, determined expression. “My first thought was, ‘It’s impossible. Curses don’t exist, let alone curses that cause someone to live forever.’ Until I watched some monster like you murder my mother.”
Mykaela knew Brad’s mother was dead, but she’d never asked or heard an explanation of why. Now she understood, a little, why he was so bitter and driven. He’d lost so many of the people he loved to the Souls of the Sea.
“I’m not killing anybody,” Dylan said. “I haven’t in a long time.”
Her stomach turned a somersault. He’d killed people before? The way Charity was killed? The way someone tried to kill her? She hated herself for the thought, but she wondered if that monster was still inside of him.
***
“You expect me to believe that?” Brad scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t. Not for a second.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a dagger. The bluish glass blade glinted in the moonlight and Dylan stumbled back. “A soul is our conscience, the root of compassion and feeling. Without it, you’re the very manifestation of evil. And your soul is gone.”
“Not gone.” Dylan spread his arms in front of Mykaela, and eased them back another step. “Trapped. My soul is still connected to my body, it’s just not in it…I still feel emotions exactly like a regular human.”
“But you’re not human, are you, Dylan?”
Dylan’s muscles tightened. He dipped his head and Brad focused his gaze on Mykaela.
“He’s not who you think he is.” Brandishing the knife, he closed the space between them until he stood directly in front of Dylan. “See, Mykaela, Dylan didn’t tell you that every once in a while the cursed soul grows bored, angry, vengeful maybe. Then he looks for some unsuspecting woman to prey on. Someone vulnerable, weak and innocent.” He raised his eyes to meet Dylan’s in a chilling glare. “He enchants this girl—makes her fall in love. Finally, he convinces her to join him, forever, in the sea. And when she does, he leaves her, lost in the ocean after condemning her to spend eternity there.”
Dylan tossed a frantic glance at Mykaela, who’d shrunk away from both of them.
“Mykaela, don’t believe him. I would never do that.”
“Why not?” Brad asked, grinning menacingly. “That’s what happened to you, isn’t it?”
Dylan glared at him. “That’s not what this is. This isn’t a trick.”
“Are you sure you can trust him, Mykaela?” Brad moved closer, looking past Dylan as if he weren’t there. “Showing up around the same time the murders started? He’s one of them. He’s a monster—he said so himself. He’s killed people before.”
“Mykaela, please—” Dylan’s words halted as Brad sliced him across the shoulder with the knife. Dylan let out a ragged animal scream as the wound smoked and sizzled.
“What did you do to him?” Mykaela flew to his side and took his arm.
“Poison.” Laughing, he wiped the blade on his jeans. “Don’t worry, there’s a cure.” He looked from Mykaela and back to Dylan, who’d dropped to his knees and gripped his arm. “He will heal if he returns to the sea, but then the others will be able to track him. And I’m willing to bet that there’s a pretty big bounty on his head.” He grinned down at them, pleased. “Life’s full of tough choices.”
With that, he walked away.
***
Mykaela pulled Dylan’s sleeve up so she could examine the knife wound. It was long and deep, and a stream of blood flowed down toward his wrist. “What are you going to do?”
“I have to go back to the sea. Turn myself in to the others. That should stop the murders.”
“No, you can’t do that.” She felt the panic burst inside her. “There has to be another way.” She looked around frantically. “What if we get some water and—”
He shook his head. “I have to immerse myself in it.”
“You have to do it,” she said. “You just have to be fast.” She grabbed him and kissed him, long, deep and passionate. Her tears stained his cheeks.
He nodded, clutching his hand over the wound.
“Wait,” she said as an idea came to her. “We were in the water before. At the cave. Can they track you there?”
“No.” He clamped his teeth together and shuddered in pain. “Probably not.”
“Come on, let’s get you there.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him in the direction of the cave—there was no time for asking why they couldn’t, it was enough that it might be safe.
They navigated through the forest and limped a mile to Mykaela’s house. Dylan leaned more o
n Mykaela with each step, and she was sure they’d never reach the cave in time. Struggling around behind the Inn, they climbed into Blanche’s car and used the spare key in the glove box to start the engine.
She drove like a wild woman, pedal to the floor the entire time. At this time of the morning, the road was free of traffic, so they arrived at the cave in about five minutes—as opposed to the fifteen it would have taken them to walk in Dylan’s condition, if they made it at all.
She helped him out of the car and was surprised at how easy it was to support his weight. They inched their way to the opening of the cave, and when they finally reached the small pool inside, Mykaela shoved him in.
He splashed into the water. Through the waving, rippling surface, she watched him drift out of sight.
The water went still, as if someone smoothed the surface. Every second seemed to stretch on forever as she waited for him to resurface.
It was too late. She was sure he was dead; the poison already ate away at him too much by the time they’d arrived. Then, the water broke, and Dylan leapt from the center, straight up like a dolphin.
Before she could blink, he was at the edge, struggling to climb onto the ledge. She knelt down and pulled him up. He propped his weight against the wall of the cave, his body trembling. Every muscle in his body relaxed and she imagined he would release a long breath—if he could breathe.
She raised his sleeve and watched as the two pieces of slashed skin fused back together with a sickening stretching sound.
“Are you okay?” She chuckled a little. “Sorry, stupid question.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
“You? Tired?” She nudged his shoulder. “Must have been a close call.”
Soul of the Sea Page 13
