Children of the Sea 01 - Sea Witch

into his arms without thought or hesitation.
     
    They closed around her. She clung to him, needing the solidness of his flesh to reassure herself he was here. He was whole. He was well.
     
    His lips pressed her hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured.
     
    Which only proved he had no idea what he was talking about. A demon hunted, and those two detectives had practically accused him of murder.
     
    Margred closed her eyes. He smelled wonderful, like earth and sunshine, sweat and Caleb. His arms were strong around her, and his shoulder was as hard and rounded as an apple. His uniform buttons scratched her cheek. Even that friction was somehow reassuring, a reminder she was still alive.
     
    She rested her forehead against his chest, absorbing the comfort and safety of his body.
     
    Temporary comfort, she reminded herself. Illusory safety.
     
    But all the harbor she had.
     
    “You knew her,” his voice rumbled. It was not a question.
     
    She nodded against his chest. His heart beat under her palm, strong and sure.
     
    His chest rose with his breath. “Who was she?”
     
    “Her name was Gwyneth. She was selkie.”
     
    “I guessed.”
     
    Margred raised her head to gaze into his face. “How?”
     
    220
    A corner of his mouth indented, but his eyes remained sober on hers.
    “Webbed toes.”
     
    Ah . “Evidence,” she said.
     
    “Yes.”
     
    Margred stifled her disappointment. So he was not ready to take her story on faith. At least he was willing to listen.
     
    “ ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,’ ” she quoted. She felt his start of surprise and smiled. “Sherlock Holmes. I have been reading your books.”
     
    “Good for you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This . . . woman, this selkie—what brought her here?”
     
    Gwyneth’s memory haunted Margred, the teasing note in her voice, the avid, speculative look in her eye . . . “ I hear you’ve had good hunting yourself. In . . . Maine, is it? ”
     
    “The currents,” Margred said.
     
    “Bullshit.”
     
    Her pulse tripped. “It’s true.” Partly true, at least. Either Gwyneth had not been attuned enough to politics to be aware of Margred’s predicament, or, driven by her appetites, the other selkie simply had not cared. “Your island is between the Arctic current and the Gulf Stream, like . . . like one of your hotels at an intersection. A convenient resting place for anyone making the ocean crossing.”
     
    Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “And your friend just chose this moment to travel halfway around the world and get herself killed.”
     
    His belief was new and precious to her. She did not wish to jeopardize it with lies. But neither would she burden him with the responsibility of Gwyneth’s lust.
     
    “She was hunting.”
     
    “That’s a long swim for something to eat.”
     
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    Margred squirmed. Did he guess the real reason selkies came ashore at night? Did he remember their own first meeting on the beach and wonder?
     
    “Gwyneth liked . . . variety in her diet.”
     
    “Hell of a price to pay for a snack,” Caleb said. “It’s my fault.”
     
    Her heart jarred. “No. You did nothing.”
     
    “Exactly. I should have believed you.”
     
    “I meant, there is nothing you could do,” Margred said. “Not between a selkie and a demon. This is not your fight.”
     
    His jaw set. “It’s my job to protect this island.”
     
    Fear and frustration made her sharp. “Those two people, the ones who came here, seem to think it is theirs now.”
     
    Caleb smiled grimly. “They can’t catch the killer if they don’t know what they’re looking for. Evelyn Hall may look tough, but she’s no Buffy. They have no idea what they’re up against.”
     
    Who was Buffy ? “Neither do you,” Margred said.
     
    “So tell me.”
     
    She was shaken by his belief in her. By her fear for him. “Demons are elementals. They take their form from the fire. You cannot shoot one with your gun or . . . or lock it in a cell.”
     
    “The thing has some kind of body. I saw it on the beach that night you were attacked. And I saw your friend. No fire, no spirit, did that to her. She wasn’t burned. She was tortured. ”
     
    Margred flinched. “The demon may have taken a human body.
    Temporarily.”
     
    “You mean, like you do.”
     
    She shook her head, rejecting the comparison. “No. Earth and water—the sidhe and the mer—have mass,