Selkie's Revenge Page 2

  “I’m not suggesting you forgive the finmen or forget her. I’m suggesting you move on. Give up the hunt.”

  His lips twitched. He hoped the result was a smile but wasn’t sure. “I can’t do it. I won’t. He needs to pay for what he did to her.”

  “But, Mack, in all these years, you’ve never seen him surface.”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re a vile race, and at least I keep them from hurting another mortal woman. Even if I never get revenge on the one who took my Anne, it’s still worth it. You won’t sway me on this, Leda.”

  “I understand.” She brushed his cheek with the backs of her fingers and searched his eyes for a long time. “Well, at least give yourself a wee vacation. It’s been so long since you and I have done something fun, and I have the perfect escape. A friend of mine is doing work on a salvage ship in the Caribbean. He needs helps identifying certain artifacts and has asked me to join him. They’ve already made some amazing discoveries, and the money will be good. You know you love this sort of thing, and your knowledge of antiques is better than mine. I’d love for you to join me.”

  Mack considered the venture as Leda leaned over to retrieve her boots. He had a passion for antiques and was known around Orkney for his expertise, often being called upon by local vendors and appraisers. Of course, none of his human contacts suspected it was because Machar was around when those antiques were new. Selkie folk were discreet with their true identities and longevity, rarely sharing what they were with humankind.

  It had been ages since he and Leda had worked on a salvage ship, and it had been even longer since he’d felt the Caribbean sun on his face. Scotland on its hottest day could never boast the heat of the tropics. This jaunt might be fun and might help him forget his odd desire to find the woman of his dreams. It might also be good to distance himself from his plan for revenge, just for a while, so he could return fresh.

  “I’ll join you, Leda.”

  “Wonderful.” She pulled on her high-heeled boots and clicked over to him. She grasped him and gave him a squeeze and a lingering kiss on the mouth. “I set out tonight. Will you come with me?”

  “I’ll just take care of a few things here first and head out on my own tomorrow.”

  “Very well.” She gave him directions. “I’ll look for you in a couple of days then.” With that, Leda was off. Mack watched her sashay out of his bedroom, her rounded arse wiggling, and then stared at the closed door for a couple of minutes.

  This trip might be just what he needed. And maybe, while there, he could convince Leda that they should give this mate thing a proper go.

  And yet, even as he considered the idea, his gut rolled in painful objection.

  Dismissing his apprehensions, Machar decided to pay a little visit to his family before setting out for the Caribbean. Selkie were accustomed to being nomadic. Families didn’t always cling to their members, but since wee Morgan had been born, the Kirk clan had been steadfast. Perhaps he could also have a wee chat with Calan and Angus about this frustrating mate business. Not that he suspected his brothers had much advice. Angus and Calan had been dumbstruck by love, and Mack remembered well how confused they’d been. Confused, yet also oddly determined. As if nothing would ever keep them away from the women who would become their mates. As if it had all been preordained somehow.

  Once again swallowing the sense of weird anticipation in his throat, Mack headed out the door and strode over to his parked Harley. He jumped on the beast and roared off toward his parents’ home, knowing his family would be ensconced there.

  * * * *

  A couple of days later, on a brisk autumn day, Machar escaped to the beach. He was glad he’d wrenched himself from the bosom of his ever-loving family. His brothers had teased him to no end about his inclination to mate and procreate. Well, not Calan and Angus. They’d patted his back and offered him sympathetic smiles. They understood.

  But the others … hell. His internal clock had been far too amusing to them. While his mother cooed over him and the possibility of more grandbabies, his other brothers had lambasted him, confirmed bachelors that they were. Arseholes, every last one.

  “You want to mate,” Jamie, one of his younger brothers, had crowed. “That’s delightful. When you’re done, Mack, perhaps we can go shoe shopping or discuss dress patterns. Wait, do women still sew their own frocks?”

  “No, no, no,” Edan, another brother had interjected, while twirling a lock of his long, red hair like a woman. “I’ve already booked Machar. We’re gettin’ our hair and nails done, so piss off.”

  “You eejits are just sore because, in mating, I’d be getting laid on a regular basis,” Mack had replied, defensive in a way he didn’t understand. “You’re … jealous.”

  The brothers had roared in mirth at that one. Fine. They all did well with women. They were selkies, of course. None of them needed to get married to get laid. Not exactly his best comeback. This deviant desire was frying his brain cells.

  The remaining bachelor brothers, Breannan and Drummond, had rushed to Mack’s side and rubbed his shoulders in fake sympathy.

  “There, there, pet,” Drummond had crooned, his blue eyes glistening with merriment. “Don’t listen to the bastards.”

  “That’s right,” Breannan had said. “They are jealous because you didn’t ask them to be bridesmaids.” Breannan had dropped a chaste kiss on Mack’s cheek, and Mack reached behind and swatted him hard and then wiped his cheek.

  Another resounding peel of laughter had ripped the house in two, waking up poor Morgan. Elsie, the baby’s mother, had skelped each of the offending brothers about the head. “Leave poor Mack alone, you big Neanderthals, or I’ll put you all on diaper duty. In fact, I’d love to see it. Mack’s not afraid to change the baby, but every time she so much as toots, the rest of you look like deer caught in someone’s headlights.”

  “Mack loves kiddies,” Jamie had said, on the defense. “Besides, have you smelled your daughter when she soils herself? The wee bairn is more catastrophic to the environment than an oil spill.”

  “Would you like me to see to Morgan?” Mack had asked.

  “No, thanks,” Elsie had answered, glaring at the other brothers. She’d promptly left to go comfort the child, followed by her devoted husband Angus.

  Maggie, Calan’s wife, rushed over and gave him a hug. “Don’t listen to them. I think it’s wonderful you want to find your mate.” She’d leaned over and whispered with a grin, “Don’t tell Calan, but mating was the making of him.”

  Calan had pulled her into his lap, possessive arms wrapped about her middle. “I heard that, woman.” But any gruffness in his tone was belied by the warmth in his eyes as he covered her mouth with his, making the other brothers groan.

  Jamie had grimaced. “They’re always at it, these two. It’s unnatural, even for selkie folk.” He’d pointed at Mack. “If you’re serious about this mate nonsense, do us a favor. Please take it somewhere else.” He’d held up a hand toward Maggie and Calan until Maggie leaned over and tickled him, making him explode in girlish giggles.

  Mack left the house, more confused than ever about this blasted mate business. He was determined to call an end to the crazy notion. He didn’t appreciate being a laughingstock, even among his obtuse brothers. Perhaps he was being ridiculous. Neither of his mated brothers had gone looking for love. It had swept in on Calan and Angus like an unmerciful storm, wiping them out. Mack wasn’t sure he wanted that to happen to him. Best just to get to the salvage ship and find solace in Leda’s welcoming arms at the earliest opportunity.

  He stared at the cold waves of the North Sea, hoping the rhythmic crash of the surf would allay the discomfort in his belly. However, the hypnotic pull of the water, a magnetic force for a selkie, did nothing for him today. He was too unsettled.

  Hearing voices behind him, Mack turned around and saw Calan and Angus headed his way. They were his youngest and eldest brothers, respectively, and as alike as they were in personality, they couldn�
��t be more different in appearance. Oh, they were both tall and built like top athletes; every selkie was. Calan had long, dark hair whereas Angus sported short, red spikes. They were both grinning at him.

  “Have you come to add insult to injury?” Mack quipped as they approached.

  Calan let out a hearty laugh. “And here we are, come to lend support to our brother. You ungrateful bugger.”

  Angus laid a hand on Mack’s shoulder. He was the eldest of the brothers and fancied himself top man. He narrowed his blue eyes at Mack. “Ignore them. Mark my words: one day fate will bite those piss weasels on the arse, and they’ll understand the pull of a mate.”

  “But that’s the problem,” Mack interjected. “I don’t know who my mate is supposed to be. I feel as if I’m being pulled toward a ghost. How am I supposed to know her if I’ve never met her?”

  “You’ll just know,” Calan said. “It’ll be as innocent as catching her scent on the wind or a kiss. It’s as simple as that.”

  “And as soon as you do,” Angus added, grinning, “believe us, you’ll be a goner.”

  There was another, feminine call, and they all turned to see Elsie and Maggie making their way toward them with the baby in Elsie’s arms. The men watched the women approach. Mack couldn’t help noticing his brothers’ reactions. Angus smiled at his little family as a sigh escaped him. And Calan was just as smitten, staring at Maggie as if she were sent from heaven.

  Mack knew these women had become the answers to his brothers’ prayers, even the entreaties they’d never once uttered aloud. They’d filled in them a need they hadn’t realized existed.

  The women approached, and Mack reached for the baby, cuddling her in his arms. As Mack reveled in her chubbiness, gently tweaking a fat toe and making her smile, Angus enfolded Elsie in a bear hug. Angus buried his head in the crook of her neck and whispered something that made her giggle and turn red about the ears.

  At the same time, Calan wrapped his arms around Maggie. As the wind whipped her ginger curls into her mate’s mouth, Calan pretended to look disgusted and removed the stray hairs from between his teeth. As she smiled back at him, he nuzzled her, and Mack heard Calan whisper something about “finding someplace private.” Maggie nodded at him, her face beaming with true joy.

  His brothers were happy, and he was happy for them. Despite the painful void inside him.

  Somewhere out there existed a woman who would make him feel the same bliss. A woman who would tick all his boxes in bright red ink and who would be the answer to the question marks polluting his brain. A woman who’d want to bear his children and make him complete.

  Mack looked at Morgan and kissed the baby on the forehead. “Tell me, wee one. Do you know where to find such a phantom?”

  As if in response, Morgan’s little face turned pink, and she farted in her diaper.

  Mack chuckled. “Aye,” he whispered, stroking her velvety cheek. “I suspected as much.”

  Chapter 2

  Beth Pedersen looked up from the sheet music she was formatting for a young pupil. It was the fifth time she’d been distracted from her work in as many minutes. One of her piano students was having trouble with a Schubert piece, and Beth was supposed to be occupied in altering the chords so smaller hands could tackle it.

  She couldn’t concentrate on butchering Schubert. For some reason, she wanted to drag her toes through the sand and feel the sea spray on her face.

  She wasn’t sure what was enticing her to go to the beach today. God only knew, she hated it now. Hated the sea. Despised the very smell of the salt water and the taste of it on her lips as it misted through the Scottish breeze. And because of what had happened a year ago, she avoided it like the plague.

  The beach view used to be her favorite aspect about the cottage she’d bought with Frank. God only knew she’d spent countless hours digging through the sand with Luke, sharing picnics with him and Frank. Now she couldn’t stand it.

  Still, something was telling her to go there today. Something in her gut was prickling at her, telling her in no uncertain terms that if she didn’t walk to the water, horrible things would happen and life wouldn’t progress as it should.

  As she slid her gray fleece hoodie over her long-sleeved tee and zipped it up, she considered what must be a sudden case of paranoia. Beth wasn’t a believer in premonitions. Hell, she didn’t even credit her instincts with superpowers. They’d proven too much of a failure.

  Still, this rumbling in her stomach, this bizarre sense of foreboding, wouldn’t be ignored. Beth couldn’t help thinking it was the hand of fate prodding and poking her. That it would slap her silly if she didn’t listen.

  Maybe it was finally time to confront the scene of the crime. It certainly felt like a crime. And the more she allowed herself to dwell on the horrible implications, the more she just knew there had been a perpetrator. It couldn’t have been a freak accident. Even Mother Nature wouldn’t be so cruel and unfeeling.

  Someone had done this to her.

  And now maybe it was time to face up to the hideous reality. For months she’d speculated, had pondered the possibility that evil beings had toyed with her life and made a mess of her existence.

  There was something out there in the water. It watched her, and it wanted a piece of her, had already ripped away the best parts of her.

  Her soul lay moldering in the sea.

  And yet it wasn’t just a sense of dread that propelled her back to the beach. Beth felt anticipation too, for something unknown, someone who would change her life. For months, she’d woken up with distorted images teasing her brain. Visions of a dark-haired man whose face was unclear. She was sure the mental pictures were merely fleeting fragments from unimportant dreams. Even still, her heart began to palpitate, as it did every time she tried to cobble together the pieces of the man’s face.

  She walked to the back door of her house, the one that looked onto the beach, and shoved her hands in her hoodie pocket.

  Go, Beth, go. You need to be there today.

  She stared through the window at the drifts of sand just outside her door. She listened to the creak of the old wooden dock where Frank used to anchor his boat. To anyone else, the waves of the North Sea might look welcoming, bracing. To her, they were conduits to hell.

  Go. Now.

  She let out a breath. “Oh, this is ridiculous.” She took her hands out of her pockets and unzipped her hoodie. She turned around, but something made her turn back to the door, as if invisible hands had clasped her shoulders and spun her about.

  With an unsteady hand, she reached for the doorknob and turned it.

  * * * *

  Mack didn’t say good-bye to the rest of the Kirks until he’d had a good chunk of time playing with Morgan. After tickling her roly-poly belly and playing enough games of peekaboo to make his head spin, he prepared for his journey to the Caribbean.

  He couldn’t leave until he stowed his hunter’s weapons away, for they weren’t needed where he was headed. Before leaving, he took a moment to entrust his father with the implements. Understanding the need to keep them safe, his dad had stored them in a locked safe in the house, one to which only he and his wife and Mack had access. Satisfied the bow and arrows were well-guarded, Mack had set out on his journey.

  There was no boat waiting to usher him to Leda and the Caribbean. As a selkie man, he needed only to don his seal pelt. The simple act transformed him from man to seal, allowing him to swim underwater until the time he decided to shed his skin again. Of course, like any selkie, Mack had to be careful where he hid his selkie skin when walking as a human. Many a selkie had had their discarded seal pelts stolen by mortals who wanted a taste of selkie love, and any selkie was obliged by old magic to pleasure the human that found the skin.

  Mack headed toward a quiet spot on the beach and began to take off his clothing. He stowed it under a large rock, one he often used to hide his things when swimming. Because this part of the beach was remote, away from fishing boats and prying
eyes, his clothes would rest there undisturbed until he needed them next. Leda had already assured him, using the telepathy common to all selkies, that she had clothes for him on the salvage ship.

  Before venturing into the water, Mack looked out to sea, as he had done thousands of times before. He’d come so many times to spots like this on the Orkney coast during his hunting missions, looking for his enemy, the finman with the orange eyes. He sometimes forgot the simple allure of the sea.

  “Evil fuckers,” he whispered.

  Although he’d discouraged many a foul sorcerer, the hurt never seemed to wane. Oh well, today was not a day for killing. It was a day for forgetting. And without the bow and arrows, there wasn’t much he could do anyway. Best to be on his way to Leda.

  He walked into the cold water, not reacting to its nip because selkies were impervious to the cold. Mack then proceeded to wrap his body in the warm seal pelt.

  Within seconds, he took on the form of a majestic black seal. Mack slid into the frigid waves and made a noise of contentment. He would never stop feeling welcomed, embraced, by the surf. It was his true home, the one place where his soul was at peace. He might be human much of the time, but no human locale soothed his spirit the way the open sea did.

  Penetrating each wave as easily as a knife slicing through liquid, Mack dove deeper. His strong body propelled him with an effortless ease, each muscle driving him home. He couldn’t resist playing for a moment, it felt so good, so refreshing.

  Coming up for air, he broke through the waves and took in the beauty of his surroundings. There was no place in the world like the beaches of Orkney, despite the wind and cold.

  His keen seal eyes focused in on a strange shape floating some distance away on the water. No, not floating. Walking. Was it a woman?

  No. Not now.

  As much as he wanted to dive and resume his swim, Mack continued watching. Once again, the odd stirring in his gut took hold. It insisted he watch, demanded he witness.

  He swam closer. It was a woman. A human. And she was walking on the water.