Wycliff screamed Hannah’s name and plunged after her, using his powerful hind legs to search the depths. A faint green glimmer came from far below him. The seal had Hannah’s gown in his mouth and pulled her deeper as it swam.
“Let her go!” Wycliff barked.
When Hartley had assumed the Mireworth living, the quietly spoken man had said he wanted a life by the seaside. Wycliff could never have imagined the smiling vicar was actually a murderous selkie who preyed on women whose only fault was in needing an ear to listen to their woes, or a friendly smile to lighten a dark time. Both well within the remit of a man of the cloth. Certainty flowed through Wycliff that while Hartley had killed three women already, Hannah would never join their number.
I failed you, Lisbeth, he whispered to his childhood friend. But I will never fail Hannah.
A silvery shape flashed past Wycliff, too fast for him to make out its shape. Another selkie, or a large fish? The last thing he needed was a shark drawn in by the turmoil. Not that it mattered if there was one or a thousand such creatures under the surface. None would take her from him. Hannah was far more than his love and his wife. She was his safe harbour. The reminder of his humanity when the dark void sang to him and sought to erase his soul. If he lost Hannah, he, too, would be lost.
Closer and closer, he gained on them. The seal might think the ocean its environment, but Wycliff dwelt between realms. The tiny water spheres boiled and popped around his mouth, and created an air pocket that allowed him to breathe. His heated form slid through the sea like a knife through butter.
As he neared, Wycliff opened his jaws and latched on to the seal’s side. He stopped swimming and sought to use his weight to halt the selkie’s downward plunge. Hannah reached out for him, her eyes wide as the ocean sought to claim her. The tiny luminescent spheres forced their way between her lips and down her throat.
Wycliff growled and closed his jaws. He wrenched his head from side to side, as the selkie thumped him with a solid flipper. Hartley curved his body to use his strong tail flipper to strike the hound, each blow like that delivered by a prize boxer.
In his mind, Wycliff imagined the void and tried to summon it forth. He needed a quick end to Hartley so he could save Hannah. Answering his call, the void opened within the water. The bluish-green droplets pushed up to the edges but did not enter the inky space. The voices flowed from the darkness, singing a seductive tune that could have been those of a mermaid luring a sailor.
Channelling his anger, Wycliff redoubled his efforts. His teeth sank into tough skin and pierced blubber. Then he hit something that oozed around his teeth like jelly. The water churned around them—spheres boiled and popped, blocking his vision like a sudden hailstorm. He fought blind, relying on instinct and the singing of the void to guide him.
Snapping down on the thick substance in his mouth, he worried the selkie’s magical skin. Inch by inch, he pulled the creature’s soul from its body. He gulped, to adjust his grip, and dug his teeth into the foul-tasting soul. Wycliff reeled Hartley’s essence forth, to expose the true monster within that was neither man nor seal. Coated in slick black like eel skin, it possessed a long and sinuous form like a serpent. A short and rounded head contained multitudes of sharp teeth like a barracuda.
From the hovering void, black arms emerged and drifted on the current as they reached for the monster’s soul. Clenching his jaw, Wycliff wrenched his head and shook the soul free. Then he tossed Hartley to the inky seaweed. The dark tendrils wrapped the monster in an embrace he would never escape no matter how hard he struggled.
A scream tore from the soul’s being as the demons from the underworld dragged him to a different kind of depth. With a soft pop, the void closed in on itself and disappeared. Severed from its soul, the seal’s physical remains twitched once before it fell motionless and floated away.
The water stilled around him as the agitated spheres calmed. His vision cleared and Wycliff cast around for Hannah. When he’d torn Hartley’s soul free, the seal’s dead form had let go of her gown. Its soft green glow came from far below him.
Then the silver flash wrapped itself around the disappearing green shape. The other creature had her in its grasp.
I have battled one, I can fight another to free her, he thought as he dove.
The merged colours created a new form as they entwined together. Moss green and silver alternated before his eyes. But…the creature had not only halted its descent, it was rising. Spinning round and round like a beautiful lure on a line, the two soon hovered close to Wycliff’s paws.
A slender, translucent shade held tight to Hannah. As he drew a breath to strike out at the new threat, it let go of her and with a gentle push, propelled her body toward Wycliff. He snapped his jaws and grabbed hold of his wife’s dress, careful to avoid clawing her as he paddled to hold his place.
The shade watched, floating on the current. Her dress was gossamer thin, the fabric merging with the spheres clustered around them. Long hair drifted around the spirit’s face. She bobbed up and revealed her face. She smiled with a familiar tilt to her full lips.
Lisbeth.
The spectre nodded, then blew him a kiss. Her task completed, Lisbeth turned into thousands of tiny diamonds and dissipated in the water.
Wycliff sobbed in gratitude, then powered upward with Hannah in his jaws. Her body hung limp and unresponsive as he hauled her to the surface. He nudged his head under hers, to keep her face clear of the water, and manoeuvred his body under her until she rested along his back. Fighting back his fears, he swam for shore. Once they reached the shallows, he shoved the hellhound away and gathered Hannah in his arms.
“Hannah? Hannah?” He called her name as he walked free of the ocean and trod the wet sand.
A crowd had gathered, drawn by his rapid exit from the hall and concerns for Hannah’s whereabouts. Mrs Rossett, Mary, and Frank stood at the front. Barnes had two fingers hooked into Frank’s collar.
“Blankets! Fetch blankets!” Mrs Rossett commanded when he staggered from the sea.
Hannah’s eyes were closed, her lips tinged blue, and no breath whispered from between her lips.
“Don’t leave me. Not like this.” Wycliff laid her flat on the sand and opened her mouth, checking her tongue didn’t block her airway. With one hand holding her nose, he covered her lips with his, and blew. He forced long, deep breaths into her lungs.
“Is she alive?” Mary said from close by.
Wycliff couldn’t spare the breath to answer. He concentrated on Hannah, pouring his love into her with each breath he took. After what seemed a lifetime of sheer agony…she coughed.
“Blankets,” he called.
Wycliff rolled Hannah to her side as seawater spilled from her throat and she shook from cold and shock. He gathered her into his arms and held her close. Mrs Rossett dropped a blanket over both their forms. Here, at least, was one benefit of being a hellhound. He let the hound’s fire heat his form and his chilled wife. Soon a fine mist drifted from the wool as water turned to steam.
“It was Hartley. He tried to drown Hannah as I believe he did Sarah, Amy, and Lisbeth.” Wycliff spoke in a low tone as he cradled Hannah. His words carried on the still night and were relayed through the assembled people.
“What happened to him?” Seager pushed to the front of the crowd.
Wycliff shook his head. “We fought out in the water. I struck him, to make him let go of Hannah. Then Hartley drifted away. My only concern was Hannah. I have no interest in him. The ocean will decide his fate and will determine whether he returns to shore.”
No need to mention the creature had died the instant Wycliff ripped the soul from its body and fed it to the ravenous void.
Seager snorted. “Never did like him. Thought he was too nice all the time. I was sure it had to be an act.”
Frank shuffled closer and extended his arms. “Take. Mistress?” he rasped.
Wycliff held Hannah tighter. He couldn’t let go of her and needed the reassurance of her breath against his skin. “No, I will carry her.”
“We can take her to the tavern and tuck her up warm in a bed,” the publican’s wife offered.
Hannah stirred in his arms as he stood. She still seemed chilled, but he didn’t want to boil her or expose himself by turning up his internal heat too much.
“Mireworth,” she murmured. Her eyes were closed, her face nestled against his neck.
He didn’t know if she was conscious, or merely whispered the word in a dream of a confused and watery world. Wycliff swallowed a tight knot in his throat. Whether she was aware or not, Hannah wanted to go home. Their home. “Fetch the carriage, Frank, instantly. She wants to go home.”
The big man nodded and lumbered away with purpose in his long stride.
The crowd parted for Wycliff as he carried Hannah across the beach. Cramond stood to one side, his hands clenched and his eyes wide and sad.
Wycliff paused beside him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I had acted sooner, I might have saved Amy.”
Cramond shook his head and swallowed several times. “None of us could have known. While he took three souls, at least it wasn’t four…or more.”
The men shared a silent moment, then Wycliff nodded and carried on up the strand. By the time he reached the road, Frank had the carriage waiting.
Once back at Mireworth, Wycliff shooed away Mrs Rossett and Mary. The concerned women wanted to undress Hannah and tuck her up in a warm bed. His wife was even now returning to them, and her eyelids fluttered as her mind sought to surface from the depths of unconsciousness.
“I will tend her.” Wycliff escorted the well-meaning housekeeper and maid to the door.
He stripped off Hannah’s ruined gown and undergarments and helped her under the blankets. His own clothes were dumped on the floor in a careless fashion. Clothing could be repaired or replaced. Hannah could not. His priceless wife was his sole concern. He gathered her up and curled his body around her.
“Tell me again how much you love me,” Hannah rasped against his chest.
His arms tightened around her and he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you beyond death. Wherever our lives lead us, I will be your constant companion and lover.”
She let out a sigh and settled against him. Then the looseness of an exhausted sleep swept over her limbs.
The next morning, Wycliff watched as the sunlight penetrated the study window. He had hardly slept, and had stayed awake to guard Hannah, terrified she might be taken from him during the night. Impossible as it was, he imagined Hartley bursting through the window and snatching her up. Wycliff couldn’t contemplate losing her when he had only just come to realise how deeply she resided in his heart and mind. Once, his life had stretched empty before him. Now it was populated with possibilities, love, and laughter.
Only with the break of day did he allow himself a breath of relief that the nightmare had ended.
“Did you watch me all night?” She opened her eyes and reached up to stroke his face.
He captured her hand and kissed her palm. “Only when the terror of seeing you disappear beneath the waves stole over me. In those moments, I craved the reassurance of knowing you slept beside me. Your mother once told me to find a safe harbour, lest I be lost on this ocean I sail. I find it somewhat ironic that I first had to save my safe harbour from drowning.”
Hannah sat up and pulled the blankets with her as she tucked herself closer to his chest. “What happened to Mr Hartley?”
He placed one arm around her and with the other, pulled free a lock of her salty hair and wound it around his finger. “The hellhound dispatched his soul to the underworld. The ocean will either surrender his form or keep it in her embrace.”
“He knew exactly what to say to make a woman feel seen and wanted. I found myself looking forward to his company on our walks, but you were always in my heart.” She splayed her fingers over his chest. “Both my magic-sensing ability and the mage silver ring tried to protect me from his enchantment. They sent warning tingles rippling over my body, but the ring wasn’t powerful enough to fully protect me. His words clouded my mind. I didn’t even notice he had walked me into the ocean. When he took my hand, I thought we strolled on the sand.”
“He possessed a charming and intelligent facade that hid his deadly intentions. Mrs Rossett said his grandmother left the village that summer the two men drowned. I suspect she, too, was a selkie, and pulled those men to their deaths.” He would have to discuss what had happened with Sir Manly when they returned to London. If all selkies harboured murderous intent, they would need to be strictly monitored.
Hannah’s fingers drummed a slow beat over his heart. “He wore a blue ring that glowed. It must have fuddled my thoughts and perhaps concealed the skin that allowed his shift of forms. It chills me, how easily he must have lured the others into the water when most likely they only sought his advice as a clergyman.”
“He said you had chosen to immerse yourself in his embrace and wash away your sorrows.” Had Lisbeth walked out with him to ease her pain, or had she fought to survive? Amy had much to look forward to and had had her chance at happiness snatched away. Sarah Rivers probably only wanted a shoulder to cry on after an argument, and found herself pulled to the bottom of the ocean.
“Compulsion is not a choice. Mr Hartley took away our free will to resist him and then took their lives.” Her words skated across his naked chest.
“I saw Lisbeth,” Wycliff whispered.
“No! Where?” Hannah pushed off his chest to face him, her eyes wide with questions.
“I was fighting the seal. He had let go of your gown, and you sank out of my reach. A silver flash caught you before you disappeared and brought you back up to me. I recognised Lisbeth’s soul. She smiled and, I think, has found some measure of peace.” It comforted him to think Lisbeth’s soul had become part of the ocean, both of them wild and free. Now, his friend would never be alone.
“She must have been a remarkable woman. I wish I could have known her.” Hannah kissed him. When he let her go, she glanced over her shoulder at the mottled light coming in through the window. “We must bathe and dress. The day is slipping away and we have much to do.”
Wycliff grinned and waggled a finger at her. “I am going to insist, Lady Wycliff, that you stay right here. Mary and Mrs Rossett will be wanting to check on you and they can bring a tray. I think today the chores can wait so that we might do something together. What say you to investigating the hole in the wall Frank made, or finding the suites upstairs that belong to us?”
Mischief sparked in her eyes. “Once we have thoroughly investigated the ground floor of the tower, I would like the master of Mireworth to lead the expedition to our apartments. If you can remember the way?”