by P. Jameson
Chapter 3
They called her Doe.
Doe, like a deer. Except not that awesome, because it was what they called people they couldn’t identify. And no matter how long Sherriff Holmes looked or who he asked, he hadn’t been able to find out who the female was.
Nobody recognized her. Nobody had seen her before tonight. Nobody had any help to offer. And in a town the size of Aurora Falls, where everybody knew everybody and tourists could be picked out of a line-up without blinking, it was damn hard to believe.
Mansen stared down at the sleeping female.
She looked pale against the pristine white sheets of the clinic bed. But not as pallid as she’d been in the water, unbreathing, under the moonlight.
He’d never forget that sight.
She’d almost died. And although he’d been a hard man once, partaking in many deaths during his warrior days, the thought of this single human female dying made him weak behind the knees.
What was this?
Maybe it was just because he was bored. Or maybe because in a way, she reminded him of the mother and sister he’d left behind in the Old Land so many years ago. Family. He’d wanted one of his own for so long. But no way for that to happen at the bottom of a mountain lake.
Or maybe it was something else.
Maybe the gods knew just how bored he was and decided to give him something interesting to pursue.
But if it was that, they could go sit on a corncob. Real hard. Because he wasn’t in the mood for playing their games. Especially when human lives were at stake.
She could have died. The idea made his insides churn with fury.
A light knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
Jase poked his head around the door and mouthed coffee, nodding for Mansen to follow him out.
He didn’t want to leave Doe, but he wouldn’t go far. And yeah, he probably needed to explain why he’d called his friend at midnight asking him to bring clothes to the clinic for his naked ass.
Mansen carefully shut the door behind him and took a deep breath, ready to launch into an explanation.
But Jase beat him to it.
“She your girl?” he asked in his blunt way, handing Mansen a flimsy paper cup of black drink. He’d rather have brew, but humans were funny about when and where alcohol should be consumed.
Wasn’t like that in the old days.
“My girl?”
“Yeah. I know you have one. Don’t bullshit me.”
Mansen cocked an eyebrow at the male he was closest to. Which wasn’t saying much. Because the fool human didn’t know shit about him really.
Mansen stayed to himself. Always had. Probably always would. There wasn’t a Mer in the lake who knew his past or why he’d made this journey to the new land all those years ago. They only knew he existed. And barely that.
It was exactly how he wanted it.
“You see me with random women every time I’m in town, and you assume I have a female tucked away somewhere?”
Jase shook his head, looking smug. “No. I think your female is tucked away in the bed behind that door.” He always seemed to know more than he let on. It set Mansen on edge. But there was nothing in the records in his home below to indicate that Jase was a Keeper of Mer, ones who knew the legends of the deep that the town was built upon were all truth.
Mansen swigged the coffee. It was bad. Real fucking bad. Nothing like the liquid gold you’d find at Enchanted Brews. “I don’t have a female.”
“Your eyes say different.”
Mansen grunted. Normally, he’d rib his friend about too much eye contact. But right now, he was too shaken. Because he did feel incredibly protective of the female behind the door. Too protective. It reminded him of the others of his kind who’d broken the curse throughout the years. There wasn’t many, but they were always protective of their find, to the point of murdering if need be.
It was a warrior’s way.
Claim it, keep it.
Maybe he felt something for the woman he pulled from the lake, but that didn’t mean she was his. It didn’t mean he could keep her.
It didn’t mean shit.
A broken cry from beyond the door gripped his sternum in a vice. It was fear and despair all swirled into one sound. He shoved his cold, bland coffee back into Jase’s hands, spilling it over the lip of the cup, and pushed back into the room.
But there was no threat there.
Doe lay still as before on the mattress, pillows that he’d swiped from empty beds all around her, nesting her in so she’d be comfortable. Eyes closed. Breathing normal. And all the machines around her kept a steady beeping rhythm to let him know her body was functioning normally.
Just as he was about to move back into the hallway, Doe flailed her arms, whimpering as if she was in pain. The cry grew louder until she practically shrieked, each sound echoing in his ears all wrong. He was used to hearing under water. The faint noises, he picked up on as he communicated with his people, and the way they used telepathy. The world above the water always seemed loud. But Doe’s cries went deeper, almost causing him pain.
“What is it?” Jase asked from the doorway.
Mansen shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t know. She’s asleep. But she’s… she’s…”
What?
There was no danger that he could see. Only whatever was happening in her mind.
Shit. How did he protect her from that? What could he do when the danger wasn’t something he could kill.
“Get the doctor,” he barked and Jase disappeared back into the hall.
Mansen climbed up on the bed, moving the pillows aside to kneel beside her. Carefully, he took her wrists, guiding her arms to her sides to keep her from hurting herself.
“Shhh, female,” he husked, close to her ear. “Be calm. You’re safe. Shh.”
He didn’t know if the words were true, but he knew he was going to make them true no matter what it cost.
Mansen frowned.
Where did that come from? That devotion.
He didn’t feel it for his gods. He didn’t feel it for his lake. He didn’t even feel it for his people.
But he felt it for her, this woman who had no name and no memory.
“You’re safe,” he repeated, grazing her wrists with his thumbs, hoping it would calm whatever tortured her inside.
And it seemed to work. Doe settled back to the bed. Her cries stopped. Her breathing became normal. She was once again at peace…
Then her eyes opened. Blinking once. Twice.
And she screamed a blood curdling sound that he’d never forget.
“Help me!”
Chapter 4
Doe snapped her mouth shut, the sound of her scream reverberating through the cold clinic room. The man from the lake was on top of her, holding her arms to the bed as she struggled. But he didn’t seem like he was attacking her. He looked just as surprised as she was.
“You’re safe,” he rushed out. “Nothing will hurt you here.”
Somehow she believed him. Maybe it was because he’d already saved her once. Or maybe it was something deeper, more instinctual, that told her she was safe with him.
She nodded, since her voice wasn’t working. Neither were her lungs. There wasn’t enough air in the room. And forget about how fast her heart was making the machine to her right beep.
“I’m going to let you go now.”
Again she nodded, trying to suck in a new breath.
“Okay.”
His hands loosened around her wrists and he eased off the bed, helping her sit.
“Can’t… breathe,” she gasped. Her eyes found a white marker board on the wall in front of her. The name written there was simply Doe.
Doe.
Because she couldn’t remember her real name and no one knew who she was.
Okay. It wasn’t that bad. She could handle this. Right?
As long as she could catch a breath so she could stay conscious.
The door
pushed open and a woman dressed in periwinkle scrubs rushed in, followed by another dressed in navy.
“Oh good! You’re sitting up all on your own.”
Doe didn’t bother telling the lady that magic-man had helped her up.
“I’m Doctor Bean. You can call me Victoria. Or Vic.”
Bean? What a last name. She got the strange urge to ask the doctor if she preferred pintos or kidney beans better.
Doe frowned.
What if her last name was just as absurd as Bean? What if it was worse? What if it was Goiter or Muffuletta or Poot.
“How are you feeling right now?” Dr. Bean—Vic—asked, smiling brightly. The woman wore a dark, blunt cut bob for a hairstyle. Functional yet chic. Doe liked the way it stopped right at her jawline and tilted down when she bent her head to write something on a clipboard.
What did her own hair look like? Probably a mess right now.
“It’s hard to breathe,” she rasped.
Vic nodded. “That’s completely normal. Its your lungs trying to work properly after taking on water. But the human body is pretty powerful. They will do their job and clear out those pathways. You’ll feel much better by morning. Any other problems?”
“You mean aside from the obvious?”
Vic smiled, her prim lips curving upward in a professional way. “Yes… about the memory loss, do you recall anything about who you are, where you came from?”
Doe shook her head, her stomach clenching with fear. How could she have no memory of herself?
“I’d hoped it would return after you rested some. Short term stress induced amnesia isn’t that uncommon. Especially after a near death experience like the one you endured. I do think with time, you’ll recover. I want you to give it a few days. Rest. Relax. Don’t think too hard about it. See what returns to you naturally. The brain is an amazing organ. I have faith in yours.”
Doe wanted to ask why. Why did Vic have faith in her brain’s ability to recover memories that seemed completely nonexistent. She didn’t know Doe’s brain. Doe didn’t even know Doe’s brain.
God.
She lowered her head to her hands. What was she going to do?
“Listen,” Vic said carefully. “Sheriff Holmes is investigating as we speak. He’s good at his job. He will figure this out. You’ll see. In the meantime, it’s important that you rest up. Now I know you don’t have a place to go, but Wilma Thomas, she owns the lodge and she’s offered up a room for you—”
“I’ll care for her,” magic-man spoke up. His voice was rough, but quiet. Like he was trying too hard to be calm.
The doctor turned her attention to him, sizing him up. “You’re the one who pulled her from the lake, yes?”
He nodded once.
“Well, don’t you worry. We’ve got this under control now. You can go ahead and—”
“She belongs with me. I will stay.”
Doe stared at him. Was he serious? He didn’t even know her. And she didn’t know him. How could she belong with him?
Dr. Bean straightened to her full height of five foot plus a hair. “There’s really no need for you here. Ms. Wilma will take good care of her at the lodge.”
The man… god, she didn’t even know his name… crossed his broad arms over his chest. “Ms. Wilma just wants first dibs on the gossip,” he argued. “You know it’s true. A woman saved from drowning in the lake only to realize she doesn’t remember who she is? Come on, you know she’s dying to get the inside scoop.”
Vic tilted her chin up stubbornly. “Wilma’s a good woman.”
“Sure. Of course. But she still wants her claws in Doe. I can’t have that. If she’s going to rest like you say she should, she needs somewhere quiet. I have a cabin on the edge of town. No one will bother her there.”
Doe couldn’t believe this was happening. It was true, she had nowhere to go. And the town gossip was probably a very nice lady. But all Doe really wanted was somewhere to sleep until she didn’t feel like she’d been hit by a train.
Vic eyed the man. “On the edge of town, huh? We talking about out near the North Shore?”
“That’s the place.”
Vic seemed to relax some. “I suppose I’ll leave it up to Doe then. Where would you like to go, hun?”
Was staying in the bed an option? Because walking felt like an impossible fete right now. Her head never stopped spinning and she still couldn’t get enough air to feel full.
Vic hugged her clipboard to her chest. “You don’t have to decide tonight. I’m not releasing you until morning. For now, just get as much rest as you can, and let me know if you need more for the pain. I’ll check in with you later.”
Doe nodded, feeling numb, and Vic turned back for the door.
“Doc, wait,” the man from the lake said. “There’s something else.”
His gaze dug into Doe’s but she couldn’t read his intentions.
“What is it?”
“She…” Still, he stared at Doe. Almost as if he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. “She cries in her sleep.”
Doe felt her cheeks flush hot.
“Cries?” Vic asked.
“Yes.” His gaze went to the doctor. “Like she’s scared. And struggles. Like she’s fighting something.”
“A dream. Perfectly normal after trauma.”
“What can you do for it?”
Vic frowned. “Do for it? Nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing.”
Vic laughed. “I’m no magician. I’m a doctor. And there’s no medicine to help nightmares. When she feels safe, they’ll likely stop.”
With that, she left, taking the nurse with her and leaving Doe and the man from the lake alone.
Silence settled in the room, giving her a sudden sense of peace. She didn’t trust the feeling, not completely, but it was a relief from the fear raging all through her since she awoke on the shore. She wanted to sleep. Because maybe she would wake up knowing her name. Or more. The brain was powerful, Vic had said.
Speaking of names though…
“I don’t know your name,” she said, her voice sounding like a croak instead of normal.
The man twisted to stare at her, head tilted as if he was measuring her up. She liked the way he looked at her. His eyes felt like they could speak, and they were making promises she hoped he would keep. He was like a guard dog, here to watch over her.
The idea was comforting.
“I don’t know yours either,” he said.
“That makes two of us.”
He smirked in response.
So she was snarky. Mark that down as the first thing she’d learned about herself. She was taking mental notes. If she was going to find out who she was, she needed to pay attention to the details.
Organized. That was number two. Apparently, she liked being organized.
Sighing, he lowered himself into the chair beside her bed. He was too big for it. Muscular, like he was cut from rough cloth. Broad-shouldered with long legs that he stretched out in front of him in a stance that could only be described as manly.
A vision of those legs as something else returned to her. A tail. There’d been a tail there before, when she watched him in the lake. Merman, her mind whispered.
She blinked away the memory of what could only be explained as a near-death hallucination… dream… out-of-body experience… something.
“My name is Mansen. And for now, I guess yours is Doe.”
She crinkled her nose. “Like a deer. Why do they use that for people without names? Who chose a deer? Why not a lion or a bear or a moose?”
Mansen arched one eyebrow. “What’s wrong with a deer?”
“Nothing, I guess. Deer are just… quiet, timid… helpless creatures. Nothing makes you feel more helpless than calling you a deer. Especially when you really are helpless.”
“Have you ever seen two bucks fight over a mate?”
Doe frowned. “No.”
“They’ll tear each other to shreds. Use tho
se racks to gore one another in the hopes the other won’t make it out in good enough shape to conquer the doe. Right bloody battle, it is.” He leaned forward in the chair, his gaze roving her features in a way that felt like she was being explored. Or investigated, more likely. “Not exactly helpless creatures.”
Doe looked away. His stare was intense. Maybe she was timid after all, but she didn’t think she was. “Still don’t like it.”
“You’d rather be called Moose?”
She looked back to find his expression serious, and she couldn’t help the way her lips lifted a little. “Moose are dangerous animals. They’re huge. And when they’re angry, they’re mean. No one messes with a moose.”
“Trust me, woman. No one will be messing with you. Not as long as I’m around.”
His words sounded like some kind of vow. It twisted around in her chest and made it even harder to breathe. But something about him made her feel… safe. As though safe was something she hadn’t been in a very long time.
Maybe that was another clue to who she really was.
His forearms rested on his legs, hands dangling loosely. He looked comfortable but his expression was anything but.
Doe frowned as her eyes caught again on his right hand. He wore a ring. A large band that was roughly carved from hammered metal held a large glossy stone. It was black and shimmered with colors. Some kind of precious stone. That might’ve been odd enough on a man like him, but it wasn’t what caught her attention.
There was something there, across the back, just above the knuckles. A tattoo. But not like one she’d ever seen before. This one used iridescent ink, almost glittery. It was an odd choice for such a masculine man. And the thing that had her squinting to see it better, sent chills racing up her spine…
Scales.
A spattering of colorful scales shimmered across the back of Mansen’s hand. Shiny blues and greens and purples. Scales like on a fish. It was magnificent.
“Your tattoo,” she rasped. “What does it mean?”
Mansen stiffened, his back going straight. “I don’t have a tattoo.”
“Right there. On your hand. Let me see.”
He stared down at his hands, turning them, flexing his fingers. “Not possible,” he whispered.
