by Mia Marshall
“Now you,” ordered Mac, reaching his hand back into the cab. I nodded and eased into the front seat, but I’d waited too long and exerted myself too much. The water still surrounded the SUV, but it struggled to hold it in place. I lost concentration for a moment, and that was enough. The Bronco completed its final rotation, coming to a stop upside down.
Mac dipped below the surface and stared at me through the jagged remnants of the window. I was now trapped in the water, and his expression was one of pure panic. It was oddly comforting to see that he sometimes forgot about my other side, the same way I forgot about his. “I’m okay,” I mouthed at him. He nodded, looking uncertain.
For the most part, I really was okay. The water surrounding me was already improving my most superficial injuries, but I still had plenty of deep ones that needed time to heal. My movements were stiff and painful, and I pretty much hurt everywhere, but I could still move.
I pushed myself toward the open door, where Mac waited for me. As I watched, several small bubbles of air escaped his lips. I doubted he had long. I floated toward him, or tried to. My ripped jeans leg caught on the gearshift, trapping me inside the Bronco.
I gave my leg a tug, but I was too weak, and the fabric refused to give. I twisted to reach the gearshift but was forced to stop when the contortion reminded my body of its many wounds. Mac swam toward me, and I happily gave up some of my air to swear at him in great detail, though the water stole the words and saved him from hearing the more creative names. I thought he got the general gist, though.
With exaggerated gestures, I pantomimed that he should head to the surface, a suggestion he refused with an equally exaggerated head shake, apparently choosing to ignore that I was a freaking water who could not drown, whereas he was extremely mortal.
“Idiot,” I mouthed. He smiled, clearly catching that one. I took a deep breath, just to prove I could, and he finally gave in, darting to the surface for air. A moment later, he was back, sliding into the cab. His body floated lightly above mine. With nimble fingers, he quickly freed me, then pushed himself backwards, grabbing my wrists as he slid past. He pulled me lightly from the vehicle, and a moment later our heads burst through the surface of the lake.
He gulped the air, and I knew that later I’d need to deliver a lecture on the right time and place for big dumb heroics, but at that moment I didn’t care. He was alive. We all were.
Mac studied me carefully, looking for wounds, and I did the same in return. Somehow, against all odds, he was still whole. He gently touched my scalp, where I knew blood continued to flow from many wounds. “I’m fine,” I said. It was an obvious lie, but I figured the fact that I was capable of telling it was a point in my favor.
He released one long ragged breath, and I felt the worst of the tension ease from his body. “Let’s get behind the car so you can let the lake go without it falling on our heads,” he said, already trying to pull me up the slope in the same direction Sera and Vivian had headed earlier.
The water had other plans. It wasn’t letting me go anywhere, not so long as I remained hurt. It wrapped itself around me and held fast, refusing to let Mac pull me onto dry land.
“I can’t,” I told him. “I need to stay in the water, to heal.”
He assessed the situation quickly, then grabbed me, pulling me toward where the lake should actually be and putting a fair bit of space between us and the banged up Bronco. Once we were safely away from the vehicle, I asked the water to withdraw, to return to its home. It eagerly obeyed, and we coasted downhill on a rush of water, stopping at last in the bay. A moment later, the Bronco made a final roll down the hill, coming to rest in the shallows of the lake.
It was over. Somehow, we were all still alive. But I remembered the noise I’d heard, and I remembered seeing the most conscientious driver I knew lose complete control of his vehicle.
We were alive, but someone hadn’t intended us to remain that way.
CHAPTER 13
The moment we were safe, I sought out the others. Sera and Vivian were perched high above us, braced against a couple of rocks to keep from sliding further down the mountain.
Mac followed my gaze. “Will they be all right?”
I studied my two elemental friends closely. Sera had already set fire to a newly created tree stump, using its energy to repair the damage she suffered. She looked shaken, but mostly unhurt, and she was walking. Even as I watched, a slight limp in her left leg disappeared, healed by the fire.
Vivian was a different story. She’d spread herself across the ground and dug her fists into the soil, seeking as much of the earth’s power as she could access. She looked broken, but alive, and the earth would have already started repairing the worst of the damage. Sera crouched above her, and even as I watched, a smile split her face. Relief poured through me at the sight. People accused Sera and me of behaving inappropriately all the time, but even we wouldn’t crack jokes while our friends fought to stay alive. Vivian was going to need a fair bit of care, but I knew she would live.
“Yes,” I said, slowly. If we’d been human, unable to pull healing power from our elements, we wouldn’t be alive. I felt shock settle across me like a delicate shawl, a whisper-thin barrier between my conscious mind and reality. We’d come so close to not being here, and I hadn’t the faintest idea how to begin processing that knowledge. “They’re going to live.” He exhaled, his own relief written clearly across his face.
I could already hear sirens in the distance, emergency vehicles likely called as soon as the other drivers saw us swerve off the road.
Mac still held me gently, treading water. I quickly scanned his body, for once with no lust in my heart. He had no element to restore him, and yet he looked surprisingly intact. “How are you unhurt?” I asked, confused.
He performed the same check on me, making a quick account of my many injuries. My leg was easily the worst, and the water was clear enough for him to see the full extent of the injury. He pulled me toward him, my body feather light in the water, and wrapped himself around my torso, my back to his front. This left my legs free to float before me, unhindered and easily accessible by the water. Even as I watched, the bone seemed to be withdrawing, returning to its rightful place inside my body.
“My mother told me always to wear my seat belt.” He seemed to consider that answer enough. He tightened his arms around me, as if determined to eliminate all distance between us. It was painful, especially where the seat belt had cut into my skin, but I didn’t mind. I craved the same closeness he did, and his hands embracing my sore flesh were simply a reminder we were still alive. After the ugly words by the river just hours ago and a crash that could have torn us apart permanently, we were both still here. Right now, that was all I needed to know.
And, so, even though his explanation didn’t make sense—he should be at least as badly hurt as Vivian, but I saw nothing beyond a few cuts and some rapidly swelling bruises—I felt no need to look beyond the simple miracle that he was still with me.
In the water, we found some semblance of peace, but around us, chaos reigned. Kayakers’ heads whipped about in a panic, trying to understand why they’d just been raised nearly thirty feet and then returned unceremoniously to their original position. A few had been overturned and were clinging to their kayaks, working to right themselves and find their way out of the freezing water. A handful of day-trippers ran around the beach, soaked from their impromptu swim, gathering their dripping belongings and chattering urgently, all the while casting nervous glances toward the lake, scared it would once again forget it was supposed to be a placid tourist destination rather than an actual force of nature.
“Oops.” I watched the unintended results of my actions with growing concern. Elementals might have looked the other way when I privately informed a couple of discreet federal agents of our existence. They were unlikely to be quite so understanding when we landed on the evening news—though a twisted part of me looked forward to watching the freakishly cheerful meteoro
logists explain this one.
While the campers’ and day-trippers’ phones were water-logged and useless, the kayakers were more prepared, with their possessions in waterproof bags. They were already pulling them out and snapping photos, and I expected they’d find their way online within the next thirty seconds. “Hey, if you could terrorize everyone with a Twitter account, that would be awesome. You don’t need to full on shift or anything. Just a growl or two should do it.”
I felt his chuckle, the slight vibration through my body and the warm exhalation of breath on my neck, and I welcomed the distraction. I didn’t want to think about what we’d just survived—or how my own people would react to the very public way I’d saved us.
Mac and I were too exposed, floating in plain sight of anyone with questions about what had just happened—which would be pretty much everyone. This seemed to be one of those times when hiding was the better part of valor, and I thought it was caution rather than cowardice that urged us toward the shallows and into the shadows cast by the towering trees. The fact that caution coincided with my deep longing to not deal with what had just happened was mere coincidence, I was sure.
We were tucked away in one of the bay’s many nooks, close enough to the shore that Mac was able sit down and stretch his legs along the bottom of the lake. He still held me close, tucked securely against him, as the water moved around me, finding bruises and cuts and slowly feeding them the magic necessary to be whole again. The sooner I could heal myself, the less cost there would be to my mortal life. If I was forced to exit the water now, I would live, but I’d need to heal as a human, a process that could take years off my lifespan. As long as Vivian and Sera were safe, I wasn’t going anywhere.
And, I thought, feeling Mac’s chest press against my back, I had other reasons for wanting to stay put.
“It’s going to take a while,” I said. “I have a lot to heal. Are you going to be okay in the water?”
The lake never warmed up before mid-summer, and even then few would call it balmy. It was warmer in the shallows, but not by much, not in May. It didn’t bother me in the slightest, but he had to feel it.
“You know I’m still a bear, right?” I was glad I was facing away, so he missed my blush. I did keep forgetting that. He was so warm and human that it was hard to picture him standing in a freezing Alaskan stream, catching any unlucky salmon that swam past.
I glanced down to see the water slowly darkening, a pool of blood that didn’t belong to me forming in the water.
“You’re hurt, you idiot.” I struggled in his arms, trying to free myself enough to learn the extent of his injuries. He didn’t budge.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“There is nothing fine about that amount of blood being outside your body.” I ran my hand gently along his leg, feeling for the wound. It was high on his leg, and though his calm voice made me think it hadn’t hit any vital blood vessels, I couldn’t be certain. So long as his blood was spilling into the lake, I needed to do something. “I can try to heal you.” Even as I spoke the words, I was shocked to hear them coming from my mouth.
Any strong water possesses the ability to heal, if they’re so inclined. The body is, after all, ninety percent water, and a practiced water can manipulate cells with ease. It requires training, since the healer is basically working blind, but I had enough rudimentary knowledge to heal a simple wound. My mother was an expert, and on more than one occasion I’d worked at her side as she attempted to train me.
It hadn’t stuck. I’d hated the entire process. If one can use magic to heal, one can also use it to harm, and I’d never been comfortable holding another’s life in my hands. Long ago, I’d chosen to forget I had the ability, so much so that I hadn’t thought to use it, even when my life was threatened by others. It was too much power, and I instinctively knew I should not have it. I hadn’t thought about that ability in years.
That was before Mac was in pain.
He squeezed me lightly. “It’s okay. I have my own magic, you know. I may not heal the way you do, but I’ll still heal. Save your strength for yourself.”
“You sure?”
“Look.” He was right. The pool of blood was dispersing, and little was flowing forward to take its place. The wound was slowly closing.
“Would it help to shift?”
I felt the slight movement of his head shake. “The bear’s always there. It’s just a matter of which skin I’m wearing at the time.”
“That goes both ways, right? The human is always there, too? If you shifted now, you’d know me, right? I wouldn’t want to find myself in the grip of some mad attack bear.” When I put it like that, I had to wonder if I was insane to be so close to him and feel so little fear. In fact, I wanted to snuggle in a bit more.
“I’d always know you, Aidan.” It was a whisper, but I heard him clearly. The words sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the temperature of the lake.
I had no reply to that, so we sat in silence for a long time, watching my bone return to its proper place. It was a slow process, with the water dulling the pain as well as healing the broken leg, and the dual effort slowed everything down.
“Tell me about your mother,” I finally said, remembering his earlier comment about the seat belt.
Though he didn’t move, I felt tension coil through his body. A moment later, he released it with a heavy breath, and his words were teasing, though the tone was somewhat forced. “Are you trying to get me on your couch, Dr. Brook?”
“If you were on my couch,” I began, then abruptly stopped. My mouth had begun that sentence without consulting anything but my libido, and I wasn’t prepared to tell him what I’d do to him on a sofa, therapeutic or otherwise. I rapidly changed the subject, rushing through the next words in an effort to distract him. The vibration of his suppressed laughter told me I wasn’t as successful as I’d have liked.
“You mentioned your mom a minute ago. You never talk about her, or anyone in your family, really. I thought, from what you once said, your family had all kinds of issues, but Will seems great. I mean, in an overbearing, occasionally condescending sort of way, but I’m Josiah’s daughter. Will’s an amateur by comparison.”
“Will is great,” he agreed. “But Will did not raise me.”
For once, I remained silent, refusing to fill the space with my ramblings and allow him a distraction.
He sighed, recognizing that I wasn’t letting him off the hook, and he finally settled on giving me the Cliff Notes version. “I was raised by my father and mother, though she died years ago. Let’s just say he wouldn’t have won any parent of the year awards. He wouldn’t have won any parent of the hour awards, for that matter. He kept us—me and my brothers—away from Will’s side of the family for years.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because they choose to live as humans.”
Such a simple sentence, and yet in that moment I learned more about Mac than I had in the last month. “You mean you stayed in bear form? But I thought two of your brothers were human? How many brothers do you have?” I recalled a conversation we’d had many weeks ago.
He shook his head. “There were four of us total, two humans, two bears. And no, we weren’t always in bear form, though we often were. We simply lived as bears, even my human brothers. No houses. No indoor plumbing. No cooked food. Not for any of us.”
I managed a weak smile, though I knew he couldn’t see it. “So I’m guessing you’re not a big fan of sushi now.”
He said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge my pathetic attempt at humor. It seemed he had oceans of words that wanted to spill forth, and perhaps the only way he knew to remain sane was to hold them all in.
I knew what that was like. I’d been there. Some days, I still was.
“What happened?” I didn’t want to pry, but neither did I want to leave those words hovering on the tip of his tongue, slowly poisoning him. I knew the damage such words did when left unspoken for years.
&n
bsp; I waited a long time, and when he spoke, his voice was controlled, the voice of a man who’d just practiced the speech in his own head, testing it for weaknesses and its potential to cause pain.
“My father, older brother, and I were scavenging for food one day. It was early spring, so we were famished, having just finished hibernating. We smelled a feast and ran to it, too hungry or stupid to remember why we needed caution. We found a large RV parked in the middle of the forest, and an older couple, probably retired, sitting down to eat. As soon as I saw the humans, I pulled back, and my dad did the same. My brother was too eager.”
He stopped speaking, and for a moment I thought he was finished. When he began again, the waver in his voice was unmistakable. “The man had a gun, and he shot the bear he thought was threatening his wife. The bullet was right between his eyes. My brother died instantly.”
There were no words, but I wrapped my hands around his and pulled them to me, tightening his hold. He did not fight me, and a moment later his face was buried in my neck. He was shaking, fighting for control, and I felt a wetness that did not come from the lake. His next words were muffled. “My father made him live as a bear, and so he died as one. We don’t switch back after death, Aidan. The couple called the forest service, and his body was burnt. I never saw him again.”
I reached one hand back and threaded it through his hair, holding him gently against me. I didn’t say a word, and I didn’t need to. The words he’d withheld for years spilled from him, whispered into my skin. “You know they call me Mac cause of my last name, right? For years, it was my only name. My father couldn’t lose the family name he’d been born into, but neither would he give us our own names. Animals don’t have names, you know. It wasn’t until I moved in with my uncle that I was given a first name, so that I could begin to move in the human world.”
“Did you leave after your brother’s death?”
I felt his nod. Slowly, he lifted his head, forcing himself to relax. “I left that night, walking on two legs for the first time in years. I had no clothes, and so arrived at my uncle’s cabin completely naked. He took me in, a wild thirteen-year-old boy, and he educated me, taught me how to be human as well as beast. I owe him everything.”
