Whenshe kissed him, he didn’t really care what happened next, but as hisarms closed around her, the kiss turned into a bite, sharp pain on hislower lip that stopped being fun awfully quick. He made a noise; heardlaughter, like the chittering of dolphins. When she pulled away, hetasted blood. Bubbles from his last breath streamed from him.
Sheshoved him away and dived straight down. Her sisters followed her,ivory and silver bodies falling into the depths, propelled by musculartails, stray bubbles trailing behind them. Then they were gone. Loose,limp, his body drifted up of its own accord. He broke the surface andtook a reflexive breath.
Hedidn’t appear to be dreaming. His lungs burned, and his eyes stung withsalt water.
Hehad no clue how far out he was. Treading water at the surface,bobbing with the waves, he looked around to get his bearings. Thatfar-off strip of land, dark cliff topped with an edge of green, waswhere he’d been climbing. The boat was gone. Like it had been set outas bait and he’d taken it.
Inthe other direction lay the low, rocky profile of an island, a spit ofrock so low he couldn’t see it from the mainland, of a slate gray thatblended with the color of the ocean, the skin of seals. This wascloser, so this was what he aimed for, just to get out of the water andcatch his breath.
Therock wasn’t comfortable. It wasn’t even that dry—likely, high tidewould submerge it. At least the sun felt warm. He peeled off hisT-shirt and wrung it out. Pausing, he looked around.
Therock inlet was covered with seals. Writhing bodies humped across therocks, slipping into the water then lurching back out, grunting,squeaking, barking. Dozens of seals, all looking across the rocks athim, blinking with large wet eyes, studying him. Out across the water,heads bobbed among the rippling waves, eyes and nostrils just abovethe surface. The mermaids were there too, black- and brown-haired,mischievous smiles flashing.
Hewas sure if he tried to make a swim for it, the mermaids would forcehim back if the seals didn’t. He was trapped. Captured. He smiled alittle because training never covered a situation quite like this.Maybe he could wait them out. If he could hunt for a weapon, maybe hecould make them back off.
Then,the seals on the inlet parted. With raucous barking, the crowd of themmoved away, some of them sliding into the water, some of them waddlingaside and looking back, as if staying to watch.
Threemen appeared, standing on the inlet’s highest point. There wasn’t aboat around. They might have been hiding behind the rock outcrops. Theycouldn’t have swum here; they were dry—and naked, unselfconscious abouttheir lean, tanned bodies. They looked like California surfers withoutthe swim trunks. Muscular, rough hair, pompous smirks. Young guys withsomething to prove. And they held weapons—spears of pale wood tippedwith what might have been broken shells, the jagged edges threatening,and bound with green fibers of seaweed.
Richardwondered exactly what he’d fallen into here.
“Hi,” he said, making theword a challenge.
Twoof the guys dropped their spears and ran at him. So that probably meantthey didn’t want to kill him, at least not right off. Small comfort.
Richardwas ready. They would go for his arms, hoping to restrain him, so atthe last minute he swerved, shoved the first aside, twisted to get outof the reach of the other. Threw his shoulder into a punch at theclosest, rushed to tackle the second. They were strong, and fast,dodging and countering all his moves. He’d underestimated them.
Butthey’d underestimated him as well.
Onestuck out his leg to trip Richard, a move he should have seen coming.He fell on the rocks and felt a cut open on his cheek, blood running.From the ground, he grabbed a loose stone, big enough to fit in hishand, with sharp edges. He saw his target’s eyes widen as Richard swungup. The guy ducked, which meant Richard caught hischin instead of the forehead he’d been aiming for. The spatter of bloodwas still satisfying, and the target had to pause a moment to clear hishead. This guy’s partner was smart enough to stay out of range, soRichard threw the rock at him instead. He didn’t think he could lay theguy out, but it might buy him time.
Hewas reaching for another rock, his only available weapon, when thefirst guy grabbed his arm—his right arm; they’d paid attention towhich arm was his strongest. Richard changed direction, tried toleverage himself free—didn’t work. The second guy grabbed his left armand pulled the other direction. They stretched him out between them,forced him to his knees. He made a token struggle but he had nothing tofight against from this position. When he tried to swing a kick at oneof the guy’s naked, unprotected genitals, the man swerved out of theway. Their muscles were taut, straining—at least they had to work tokeep hold of him.
Thethird guy hadn’t joined in, not even when Richard did damage to hiscompanions. He stood before them, leaning on his spear, regardingRichard with a clear sense of victory. He was the leader of thegang—and he had an agenda, a reason for all this. He was studyingRichard. Sizing him up.
“Thinkhe’ll do, then?” one of the henchmen said in the thickest brogueRichard had heard since arriving in Ireland. The man might have grownup not speaking English at all. “He can surely fight.” He soundedimpressed, but the compliment only annoyed Richard. If they’d wanted afight they could have asked for one.
Theleader, Richard assumed—the one who’d kept his hands clean—said in anequally thick brogue, “What are you, then? Not so big as all that, notso tough. And I’d heard you were a big, bad man.” Richard grinned backin an attempt to piss the guy off but the man ignored him. “There’ssome that think we can use you—a strong man with the sea in his veins,even if it’s just a little of it. A warrior with skills that none of ushave, that might be useful in our battles. There’s some that think thatblood calls to blood and if I called, you’d answer.”
Richard’smind
