And now this.
An image came to mind of Cara Wallace—black hair, deep, dark eyes, the reddest lips he’d ever seen. And a dimple.
A banshee who had a dimple.
He had to find her. There was no way around it. He had to get his friend back and make sure she was safe.
He had to do it before that scream came out of her in the bad way.
Because his banshee with a dimple had to be saved.
Dressed in a wetsuit, Duncan strapped knives along his arms and legs, ready for a quick grab. Then he put two spears on his shoulders. He didn’t know what he was going to find under the water—it could be something simple, and Cara was just lost, or it could be something much worse.
Best to be prepared for the worst.
The gold medallion hung around his neck, and he clipped its red string onto the suit so it didn’t float off. He had to have it. It was his gate key to the Merrow Kingdom. No one got in without it.
At least no one who wasn’t a merrow.
He anchored her meter to the inside of his left wrist, where the greenish yellow cast had changed to a solid yellow.
She still hadn’t released her scream.
He opened his mind to try and find her. “Come on, Cara. Talk to me.”
Unfortunately, wherever she was, she wasn’t answering.
Duncan ran his hand over his head, slicking back his hair. He’d already searched topside for Cara to no avail. He checked her work, her little cottage, even some of her hangouts just to see if she was just out and about. Or maybe she had some magistrate-related deadline she was trying to finish before she had to release the scream.
As an administrative assistant for the governing body on the island, Cara always had lots of work that she had to get done.
Duncan had noticed over the years of their friendship that Cara never left anything unfinished. Her office was neat and tidy, as was her apartment. Not even a glass on the end table.
He’d hoped…
No luck, though he didn’t expect to find her that easily.
So he moved on to the magic tracking spell. It worked—showed her footsteps over the last twelve hours—leading right off the edge of the cliff above the entrance to the Merrow Kingdom.
He stood on the edge of the cliff. Her footprints glowed on the ground in front of him.
Though when he looked over the cliff, there was no sign of her—the spell left no trail below, but her footsteps indicated she’d run and dived off.
Son of a Hell Hound. He hated the deep water.
He stepped to the edge of the tall cliff on the coast. Winds blasted him from every direction, and the water below crashed and slammed into the rocks, making it foamy and white. The heavy aroma of the sea wafted around him, and he grimaced.
The timing of this was so horrid. He hated leaving Ava alone with her charge, but what choice did he have?
Get it together. You have a job to do.
And in his mind, he could see Cara smile and that little dimple again.
Damn.
“Come on, Cara. Talk to me.” He projected his telepathic thoughts as far and wide as possible, hoping that she might hear him, answer him.
Nothing.
Duncan took a deep breath, backed up several long strides and bounced on his feet. While he needed to get back to chaperoning Avalynn Fay, this took precedence.
Cara takes precedence.
Always.
As much as he wanted to keep Ava from getting into trouble—she was a friend, after all—these were the kind of situations he’d joined the FID for in the first place. Desperate situations to rescue fairies who needed it. Not fairy godmothers who should know better.
And Cara, as a banshee, fell into that category, since she was technically a fairy of a sort.
He glanced at the meter on his arm.
Nineteen hours.
Not much time. Duncan pulled out his last pieces of equipment—a small face mask that allowed him to breathe underwater, and a tiny bud for his left ear, to help him hear without air. He cleared his mind. What made him a step above the other FID officers in the field also made him the best man for an underwater job.
Duncan’s telepathy and mind reading skills were some of the strongest in the Fairy Realm. So strong that, if he let himself, he’d be overrun in moments with hundreds of overlapping thoughts. Most of the time, he had to hold the ability back, though that was harder than dealing with the inundation of the thoughts. Today he had little choice.
Telepathy was the easiest way to communicate with the merrow while underwater.
At least for fairies.
Focus.
Gotta find Cara.
He rocked his head back and forth, took several deep sniffs with the nose filter, making sure it was in place.
Time to go.
The Brothers should be waiting for him by now. O’Leary had sent a communication to be expecting Duncan.
They had to find Cara so she could release her banshee cry. If she didn’t, she would die. In a messy explosion.
The very thought made his stomach tie in knots.
I’m coming, Cara. He took off, full sprint, toward the edge of the cliff. He flew out and away, wind slapping against his trajectory as he twisted into a dive.
He pierced the water like a pin into a pillow and disappeared under the wild currents without leaving much of a splash. Water enveloped him as he dove deeper, and he pushed back the burning need to shoot for the surface and get more air.
It’s okay. It’ll be okay.
He twisted around and took a position more upright. With the first deep breath, he forced back that initial panic. While the filter allowed breathing underwater, the first few breaths were always smaller, and panic usually kicked in and sent a fairy topside before work was done.
Unfortunately, he’d done this before and would do it again during his tenor as an FID agent. Cara had been the last banshee he’d dove for. Of course, she’s been a kid then, barely fifteen.
Didn’t mean he liked it. Especially since it was for Cara.
Again.
He shook off the thoughts. The soft hum of undersea life milled about. Fish emerged from their hiding spots like timid kittens, but kept their distance. Their bright colors broke up the otherwise mucky gloom of the greenish water.
Duncan scanned around, slowly breathing so he could adapt to the pressure. The air, slower and heavier with the breathing apparatus, took a few moments to get used to.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
He oriented to the breathing, and as he did, began wondering where his escorts were. The merrow were particular about who they let in their realm.
The merrow were all about protecting their territory and their people.
Though he didn’t blame them—if a human found a merrow in the water, it would be all over. Humans would start diving for them. Then when they found one—because humans were incredibly tenacious and they would if they knew something was down there—the merrow would be studied/tested/dissected for who knew how long.
A torture Duncan wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
The island of Avalon was magically shielded, and the merrow took precautions to protect their territory underneath, but magical charms could only protect the merrow for so long. Their military body kept their realm secure from any visitors—humans or mythicals they didn’t want invited in.
To say the Merrow were a little xenophobic was a bit of an understatement.
Okay, where are they?
No sign of any of The Brothers. The Brothers was the merrow military. The men weren’t actually brothers—as in born of the same mother or father, but brothers at arms. Though so many of them looked alike, one tended to forget they weren’t related.
A thu
mping through the water—pushed by something large swinging its tale echoed. Made little fish scatter.
Duncan turned.
“About time, fairy.” A merrow named Keefe came forward, his muddy light hair flowing around him like another fin.
Duncan tried not to roll his eyes.
Another merrow came from the other side. This one had his head shaved, except for a patch at the base of his neck and the sprout of red—the cohuleen druith—on top of his head. He swam around Duncan. “Oh look, he brought spears!”
“Do you want me to test them?” Duncan thought and glared at the half-man, half-fish.
Keefe burst out laughing. “Kealan, behave, he’s our guest.”
Duncan knew he’d be dealing with some of The Brothers, but he didn’t actually think he’d have to deal with the friggin’ royal princes, who were also members of The Brothers. Real brothers who were Brothers.
The merrow needed a bigger vocabulary.
“Listen, I have less than nineteen hours to find my banshee. Cut the bullshit.”
Kealan shook his head. “Bull-shit? You Fairies have strange words.”
Keefe glided over and touched Kealan’s shoulder. “It’s like shark poop. Just doesn’t float.”
“Yuck,” Kealan muttered.
“Come on, I need to know what’s been going on down here.”
“Everything’s been fine,” Keefe said as he swam around Duncan. “Don’t know why a banshee would be doing coming down here anyway. Everyone’s healthy.”
“The same reason a banshee goes anywhere. Cara’s got a cry to release.”
The two merrow looked at one another, their expressions sobering up.
“Come on,” Keefe said.
“If you can keep up, fairy,” Kealan said.
“I’m sure I can keep up with some mermaids.”
“Hey!” Kealan snapped. “We are not ‘maids.’”
“Prove it.” Duncan kicked off toward the rock outcroppings, where the entrance to the Merrow Kingdom was hidden.
The two merrow took off after him.
Chapter Five
Pain shot through Cara’s head. Somewhere water dripped, and each little drop made the throbbing in her head boom that much harder.
Chinese water torture, but worse…
Trying to twist and turn, Cara realized she’d been bound.
Bound and gagged. Bitter bile flooded her senses as she chewed at her restraints—a nasty taste. Her underwater breather was gone, and the crisp, cold air felt awful in her nose—like she’d dry-cleaned her sinuses.
Her forehead burned from an open wound. She could smell the salt water and the blood. Hopefully no sharks would smell it and come exploring.
Scanning around, she tried to figure where she’d wound up.
It was a cave—that much was obvious. Rock everywhere, and the light was very dim from some iridescent algae in the water. Though there was air here. No way in or out, either. Just a pool of water.
She’d have to swim for it to get out. Which wouldn’t have been hard, had she still worn her breather. But it was gone—her oxygen was coming from the small pocket of air in the cave. Which meant the air in the cave would be limited before it became too toxic to breath.
And who knew how deep the cave was, or how long it would be before she reached the surface again? She had to stay calm, keep her breathing in check—she didn’t want to run out of air before she could attempt to get out of here.
This place, a hidden cove divers dreamed of finding, wasn’t large. It reminded her of something out of a fantasy novel. The algae on the walls illuminated the cave a little, giving it an eerie glow. She might have marveled at it had the circumstances been different, and she wasn’t in worse-than-migraine pain.
The cry in her gut fought with the pain of her throbbing head. Though the banshee cry was winning.
Cara had to let it out, because a banshee’s cry had to be released. It was a warning of coming death. Without her release, it would leave the people she protected without time to prepare.
It would also leave the merrow defenseless. From the severity of the pain inside, the coming deaths wouldn’t be pleasant. No cry she’d ever had had been this strong. Whatever was coming was big.
Major.
More than just an elderly death. The cry rolled and twisted in her gut. Panic flooded her, and she forced it back down. She had to get back to the Merrow Kingdom and release the cry.
If she didn’t, well, there was no stopping a banshee’s scream. A scream would erupt and rip apart whatever restrained it. Even the banshee carrying it.
From the way it built, Cara imagined she had less than a day before it burst through her body. Once again, the banshee part of her was determining her life.
As it did every other day of her existence. It shackled her to the island of Avalon, not allowing her to leave, even for a short trip just to see someplace new. She’d been so close—she’d even considered taking a little trip over to see her sister in the United States. She’d already spoken to her boss about using The Portal. Even the magistrate thought it would be nice for her to get away for a while. Just a few days, anyway.
Cara had been working hard, and lately, it was starting to take its toll. A break would have been perfect.
And even if a cry started, since she’d used The Portal to leave, she’d be able to come back instantaneously.
It was almost perfect.
Then this happened.
Gah, she hated being a banshee.
Correction, she hated being a banshee chained to this island. Why couldn’t she have been lucky enough to get to travel around like her sister? Janelle was bound to an area in the southern United States, and even kept a house there. She could get away.
But Cara couldn’t. Even just trying to plan a trip, and look how karma slapped her back down.
Stop it. Now’s not the time.
Keep positive.
I can get out of this.
There has to be a way…
The cry burned her chest. Death was coming to the merrows, and the more the cry burned, the worse it had to be. Something bad was on the horizon, and if Cara didn’t release the warning, they might not be able to prevent it.
Her grandmother’s words rang in her head: The blessing and the curse of being a banshee, Cara. You bring a warning of death. But because it’s merely a warning, then sometimes, it can be prevented. She missed her grandmother—the merrow Crown Princess who turned her title over to her brother so she could marry a banshee, and change the course of the royal family.
Some things are not meant to be prevented…
Cara struggled against her bonds, remembering her grandmother’s wise words about being a banshee. Some things were just destiny.
Maybe she was destined to be tied up in this cave…
She remembered a moment, years ago, when she’d had her palm read. Her destiny had been tied up into some big event in her future, when everything came together.
Stars, this was it. This had to be the event…
She shook her head.
No! No. I will not think like that.
Cara had to get out of here. Find a way to get out of this trap. Destiny or no, she wasn’t about to spend the rest of her days in a little cave, tied up with seaweed.
If I can only—
Her legs fell over the edge of the rocky outcropping. Her impulse was to scream, a girly shriek she, like any female, would release, but nothing came out.
Not even a muffled grunt.
Wait a second…
The seaweed gagging her shouldn’t be enough to completely destroy her voice.
What in the world?
How could the seaweed prevent her from making any noise?
It had to be enchanted.
Which turned this into
a whole other mess. She’d wondered if she’d even made it into the Merrow Kingdom. There was no way to tell inside the cave. This wasn’t exactly on the Avalon’s list of scenic spots.
Someone had hidden her away.
Enchantment meant a fairy. Or worse. If this was magic-cursed, then something very bad was afoot.
The merrow didn’t use magic. At least, no more than necessary for survival. The main source of their magic being their red, seaweed-like hair—called the cohuleen druith—that grew from the top of every mermaid’s head like a sprout. If a merrow lost their cohuleen druith, they could never return home, and would remain shore-bound for the rest of their lives.
Since magic usually caused more problems than helped, the merrow had banned the use of it centuries ago. The king had a trident, which he rarely used, but it did have magical properties. However, he used it only in the most desperate of situations. Jupiter gave the merrow king a piece of Neptune’s trident to protect his people. Ever since, the merrow didn’t particularly like magic in their realm.
At least, not magic they couldn’t control.
But other than that, the merrow were not magical. Probably the biggest thing Cara liked about them. For the most part, they were mortal, at least on land. They didn’t seem quite as intimidating—well, minus the red sprout of seaweed-like hair on their heads. When they hit the seawater, their tail fins appeared.
In a way, they were just as stuck on Avalon as she was.
The merrow were stuck here….
Merrow.
Her cousins!
She had distant merrow cousins—the side of the family that Grandmother had turned the crown over to. They were all merrow, which meant they lived in the water most of the time.
They would help her.
“Keefe! Kealan! Help me!”
Not that Cara expected them to actually hear her—her telepathy was very rusty, and it had been years, literally, since she’d used the skill underwater.
Struggling against the bonds, she felt the texture and realized they were the same seaweed material as the gag in her mouth.
They were likely just as enchanted as the gag.
Saving Her Destiny Page 5
