Selkie Cove (The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Book 5)

by Kara Jorgensen

  It had started innocently, sitting in George’s workshop watching him reassemble a Japanese karakuri doll. Adam rested his elbows on the table, tipping the stool back as far as he could before clunking back into the table. George shot him a good-natured glare and lowered the jewelers loop over his eye. His school books rested on the corner of the table, abandoned the moment he found George alone. George had been born nearly a decade before him and Hadley, so surely he would know the answer to his question. Itching his wrist, Adam shifted on his stool until he managed to keep a leg off the ground.

  “Do— do boys ever fancy other boys?” he asked quickly, his stomach knotting at the thought of Peter Moore’s laugh.

  George opened his mouth to speak, the words cut short at the realization of what his brother had said. Raising the loop, he narrowed his gaze on Adam’s reddening cheeks. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Well, there’s a boy in school and— and I know he fancies a girl, but I fancy him, like she does, and—”

  The blow came so fast that Adam hadn’t known what hit him until he went crashing to the floor with the stool trapped around his legs. Adam scrambled back at the look in George’s eyes as he stood over him, seething. He should run, he should leave, but his tangled, gangly legs and the fear crushing his thoughts kept him still. Before he could move, George hauled him up by the collar and released him with a shove into the workroom door.

  “Listen here, you little molly. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never say that again,” he spat, his finger an inch from Adam’s aching cheek.

  Adam’s gaze flitted over George’s pale eyes, lingering on the bloody bolts that spread from the corners to match the veins rising on his neck and forehead. “But I— It’s not normal but—”

  “Damn right it’s not normal. It’s a sin, Adam. Do you want to go to Hell? Or do you want to go to prison for indecency? If anyone find out, that’s where you’ll go. You know they used to hang men like that. Is that what you want, Adam? To be some fucking Mary-Ann?”

  “I…”

  His lungs convulsed. How could that be when seeing Peter made him happy? He wanted to ask, but he shrank back, wishing he could disappear into the wood under George’s burning stare. His brother raised his hand, and Adam braced for the punch he deserved. The blow came down hard beside his head, rattling the door in its frame and sending tears rushing to Adam’s eyes. He dug his nail into his palm as George turned from him and stood at his workbench. His hands flexed dangerously against the tabletop.

  When his brother finally spoke, his voice trembled with rage. “Get out of my sight. If I hear about this again, I will pitch you out. I won’t have someone like that corrupting this house. You can be a rent boy if it pleases you, but it won’t be here. You understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

  A cry climbed up his throat, but Adam bit it back as he struggled to open the door. Tumbling out the room, Adam quietly shut the door behind him and sank against it. Guilt and fear washed over him, drowning the thought of Peter’s cupid’s bow lips and infectious laugh until all that remained was a hollow pit. A seed had been planted that grew into blackened roots set deep into his heart and mind. In an afternoon, he had become a villain by his own treacherous heart. He hated George, he hated himself, he hated god for making him a way counter to nature. From that day on, George never asked Adam for help again and only spoke to him when necessary. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time George even said his name. Hadley was right, he was glad when George died.

  Adam sighed, watching the sigil reappear with his breath. He never forgave him. When George’s condition grew worse, it became easier for him to vent the pressure building inside. He purchased a few questionable books at first, then some bright clothing that drew attention to his frame, and near the end, he took the occasional trip to a club sympathetic to his needs where he lurked in corners, watching but never touching. Digging his nails into the angry patch of skin on his wrist, he pressed down until pain rang through his arm loud enough to break his thoughts. He didn’t need to think of that now. George was dead, and he had almost everything he could have wanted.

  Rising to return to Immanuel’s side, Adam froze. A light trailed along the beach below. It bobbed and haltingly made its way along the rocks as if the walker used them for support. Unlatching the window, Adam grimaced at the hinges’ shrill cry.

  “Adam?” Immanuel called behind him, his voice crackling with sleep. “What’s going on?”

  “Ssshh.” Never taking his eyes off the light, he whispered, “Someone is walking on the beach.”

  “At this hour?”

  The mattress creaked as Immanuel joined Adam at the window. The figure cut through the lingering fog, disappearing and reappearing as a faceless ball of light. As the person drew closer, Immanuel leaned out the window with Adam’s hand tight around the waist of his pajamas. A gust of wind cut through Immanuel’s thin shirt and swirled the fog into the vague shapes of faces and beasts, but as the man drew nearer, he realized there was something familiar in his gate. It could have been the slide of sand beneath his feet or— Light flashed across the lacquered wood at his side.

  “It’s Byron Durnure. I can’t see his face, but I’m fairly certain it’s him,” Immanuel whispered, teetering back.

  “What could he possibly be doing out at this hour?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go down and follow him.”

  “Follow him?” Adam repeated, stepping back as Immanuel slipped on the jacket draped over the hearth grate.

  “Think about it, Adam. He could be merely going for a walk or he could be going out to kill someone. If it’s the former, then we go to bed with a clear conscience and sleep in, but if it’s the latter, then we know who killed Jacobs and Berte.”

  “I suppose. Let’s just hope he isn’t heading for us.” Watching Durnure disappear into the fog, Adam slipped a pair of trousers over his union suit along with his warmest coat. “Berte?”

  “She was the selkie I autopsied. I forgot to tell you that Isa and Hilde confirmed she was one of their people.”

  Nodding absently, Adam grabbed his gun from the bedside table, clicked open the chamber to ensure Immanuel hadn’t taken out the bullets, and slipped it into his coat pocket as he followed his companion down the stairs. Quietly tugging the door shut behind them, Immanuel crept toward the stones lining the edge of the cliff face. His eyes darted to the rickety steps leading down to the sand, but one look from Adam told him to stay put. Keep the high ground, Adam mouthed, kneeling between two mossy boulders. Leveling his gun on the inventor’s form, he motioned for Immanuel to join him.

  Below Byron stopped to watch the waves. In the distance, the lighthouse kept its vigil, as constant as the tide that powered the town. Placing the lantern on a petrified tree trunk, Durnure steadied himself on his walking stick as he plucked at his shoelaces. At first Adam thought he was merely removing his shoes and stockings, but within moments, the Londoners were thankful for the lack of moonlight. Byron Durnure stabbed his walking stick into the sand and limped toward the water until it lapped against his waist.

  “Should we stop him? He’ll freeze to death,” Immanuel whispered, his mouth muffled by his scarf.

  Adam motioned for silence as Durnure held up a thin chain ending in a pale purple crystal. In the flickering lantern, the disk flashed pink as he brought it to his lips. His mouth moved in a prayer, the sound lost beneath the gurgle of seawater, but as he let the pendant fall back to his chest, a note rang through the air. Adam’s ribs vibrated with the eerie tone, sending a shudder through him. He turned to Immanuel ready to ask if he had felt it to find Immanuel staring rapt with his hand clasped over his heart. Rising from a crouch to get a better look, Adam caught Immanuel’s arm and yanked him back down as a shadow darkened the sea, feet ahead of the inventor. The shape grow darker and smaller as it drew closer until it stood within arm’s length.

  The water rippled and parted to reveal a wide-eyed face and a
head of curly blonde hair. As she stepped onto the shore, Adam could make out the faint outline of ashy swirls dotting her body. His heart thundered in his throat. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Immanuel when he said selkies existed, he had seen the one in the workroom disarticulated into its distinct parts, but he had never imagined it alive. A smile blossomed on her lips as Durnure swept her up in his arms and drew her into a kiss as deep and passionate as any Adam had shared with Immanuel. Adam sank behind the boulder, averting his gaze from their intimate meeting.

  “Immanuel,” he hissed, “get down.”

  Casting a sidelong glance toward the couple, Immanuel crouched beside him. “Why? Do you see something?”

  “No, but do you really think we should be spying on them? Unless you plan to study the mating habits of selkies, I highly doubt this will be of any use to your investigation.”

  “But what if it’s all a ploy, and he plans to lure her and kill her like Berte. When he used his necklace, I felt the calling stone they gave me hum.”

  “Of course it hummed. She probably gave him the stone, so they could have midnight rendezvous away from his aunt.” Adam peered over the rocks before turning back to Immanuel. “That doesn’t look like a ploy to me.”

  “But what if he’s acting?”

  “Not every man is Lord Rose, Immanuel. You said it yourself, everyone on this blasted island has selkie blood, so why wouldn’t he be involved with one of them?”

  “I suppose.”

  In the dark, Adam couldn’t see the look on Immanuel’s face, but in his voice he could hear the flat note of resignation as he slid down beside him. His hand blindly brushed Adam’s calf and hip before finding his hand. Adam laced his fingers through Immanuel’s, holding them between his until the chill died away. Releasing a heavy breath, Adam rested his head against the boulder.

  “Shall we go inside? I don’t think they will leave for some time,” Adam said softly, feeling Immanuel’s sleep-heavy head on his shoulder. Anticipating his lover’s response, he added, “I think we can still see them from the other bedroom if you’re truly worried for her safety.”

  Slowly straightening, Immanuel stood and carefully padded back as he helped Adam to his feet. On the beach, the Durnure and selkie lingered in the red sand, illuminated by the flickering lantern light. Their voices barely rose above the wind and water, except for the occasional gust that would carry with it the lilt of woman’s a laugh. At the sound, the knot loosened in Immanuel’s chest, and without a word, he retreated to the inn.

  The moment the door locked behind them, Immanuel took Adam’s hand and led him to the spare bedroom. Pulling the chair from the corner, Immanuel settled near the window to continue his watch. Adam reached for the light switch but caught himself. The ghosts of previous tenants clung to the dusty bedding folded at the foot of the mattress along with the must of moisture from too many nights spent with an empty hearth. The silence pressed on Adam’s ears as he settled at the far end of the bed and traced the lazy path of a ship between swipes of the lighthouse’s beam.

  “How do you think he can stand water that cold?” Adam asked, his voice startlingly loud in the darkened room.

  Immanuel kept his eyes on the beach, but as he spoke, his tone remained clinical. His museum voice, Adam called it. The one he used when he feared he would make mistakes, when he couldn’t be Immanuel the German exile.

  “I suspect it’s a trait from his selkie bloodline. They don’t seem to be affected by the cold water, whether or not they have full fur and blubber. Perhaps they simply don’t feel it. They couldn’t thrive here if they didn’t have a tolerance.”

  “Do you think there are selkies other places? Tropical places?”

  “I don’t see why not. There are monk seals down in the Caribbean and in the Pacific, so I guess there could be selkies.”

  “Or mermaids.”

  “Or both. There’s so much out there we don’t know. We act like we know how everything works, and the things we don’t, we call divine.” Immanuel shifted, his body sighing into the chair while his eyes fixed on the forms below. He yawned. “Have you ever wondered when something stops being divine? Is it when we discover what it does or merely that it truly exists? Or is it when we think the mystery is gone?”

  “I thought you didn’t ascribe to any religion,” Adam replied, his lips quirked with a grin.

  Catching his expression, Immanuel returned a faint smile and let his head fall against the plaster. “I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be awestruck. We take it for granted. We get the world handed to us in small pieces, disconnected from the rest. Surrounded by things of our creation, nature is a mystery to us. She doesn’t follow human logic or order, but there most certainly is both. When you dissect and draw enough, you begin to see patterns.”

  “Patterns?”

  “You know, similar shapes or conformations. Things repeat through species and time simply because they are the most efficient systems. Over time, we change to match nature, and end up better for it.”

  “And yet we go marching off to conquer it.”

  Immanuel scrubbed at his eyes and slid lower in his chair with his arms loosely crossed in his lap. “Do you ever wonder if we’re making a mistake by doing that, Adam?”

  “I hadn’t before, but now…”

  “It’s like when you see a specimen in a jar, you can only think about it in isolation. It’s drained of color and life, stopped from its natural processes.”

  “Conquered.”

  “Yes,” he replied, turning to Adam with wide eyes. Catching himself, he quickly returned to the beach. “You don’t think how it fits with everything else. Darwin talked about how when one thing is removed from nature, the whole system can crumble. Since I saw Berte’s body, I keep thinking what people would do if they found out about selkies. Would they hunt them to extinction for sport or medicine or simply because they see them as something far more sinister than evolution at work. God help them if they ever found out about the werewolves.”

  Adam opened his mouth to speak when his mind caught up with his ears. “Werewolves?”

  “Yes, well, I heard—” The words fell away as his eyes fixed on the sea. “She’s leaving now.”

  Standing behind Immanuel, Adam watched as Byron and the selkie stood in the water face to face. Good-byes and final kisses were exchanged as the wind whipped up sand and sent the lantern’s flame sputtering. The selkie backed away until she disappeared beneath the sea’s inky surface. When the water stilled where she had stood, Byron hobbled back to retrieve his clothing. He dressed quickly, but for a long moment, he merely stared as if waiting for her to return. With a final look, he collected his walking stick and headed back the direction he had come.

  ***

  Adam lay with his eyes closed, his mind floating on the edge of thought just short of consciousness. While he couldn’t move, he could sense Immanuel asleep on his cot and hear the gentle sigh of his breath. In the back of his mind, memories tumbled heavy. They swirled like smoke, threatening to blot out the trickle of sun creeping over the island. Turning his head, Adam scattered them and focused on the itch of stubble on his jaw and the sheets tangled around his ankles. He drew in a deep breath and shoved his face deeper into the pillow, wishing Immanuel hadn’t fallen asleep on the other bed. His lover had been so peaceful that he didn’t dare wake him or suggest he change out of his rumpled clothing. Darkness slid over Adam’s mind again, inching its way into oblivion until he felt a jolt.

  Adam sat up. For a second, he wasn’t certain if it had been one of those dreams where he had nearly fallen off a precipice or if the ripple passing through the island like a shockwave had been real. Running a hand over his face, Adam looked over to find Immanuel with his lips parted and his brows knit as if in thought as he lay with his arm folded under his head. If it hadn’t woken Immanuel, perhaps it had been in his mind after all. Adam consulted the pocket watch on the table between them and slipped out of bed to shave. Never again,
he vowed, catching his scruffy reflection in the window. As he moved to take a step, Adam froze, pressing his foot back to the cold, rough boards to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

  The lighthouse had gone out.

  ACT THREE

  “There is no fundamental difference between man and animals in their ability to feel pleasure and pain, happiness and misery.”

  -Charles Darwin

  Chapter Nineteen

  In the Blood

  Immanuel stood before the wall of faces. A jumble of names and dates passed through his mind, all meaningless and useless. Stepping closer, he ran his finger along the blue yarn linking three women who had all drowned.

  Drowned. He scoffed and took a few steps back until his shoulder brushed the wall. Adam was right, sometimes you can be too close to see the truth.

  “Any progress?” Adam asked, carrying in a cup of tea for each of them.

  Immanuel took his cup and drew in a long swig, relishing the soft heat running between his ribs. “They’re selkies. All of them.”

  Adam stared at him, blinking twice before setting his tea on the desk. “And how do you figure that?”

  “It was something Hilde said. She mentioned how human men would capture them and force them to marry. It stands to reason that if you were trying to get away from someone on an island and you have the ability to transform into a seal, wouldn’t you run into the sea?”

  “It makes sense, but all of them?”

  Reaching into his pocket, Immanuel pulled out the vivalabe. He clicked it open and held it between them as the balls scattered across the top, turning blue before they could reach their destinations. Adam’s eyes widened as he instinctively drew closer to touch its surface but pulled his hand back at the last moment.