Part 10 (2/2)

He had found her. This was no dream. He could see her face. She was here, flesh and blood. Looking at her for the first time in sixteen years had left him so stunned, it was a wonder he had managed to bring her to the surface.

Now was no different. She was so beautiful.

He was suddenly afraid to touch her. She was much smaller than him, more delicate than he had imagined. His memories of her, as a child, were larger than life.

He held her carefully, hands curling around her bare arms. She was hot to the touch, feverish, and the light from above cast a white glow across her skin. Her gaze sought his, and he searched it for any sign of fear. Found none. Just a stunned sort of wonder, and awe.

Like time travel, as though Perrin was stranded on the beach again, little more than a boy. He could still see that girl in this woman's face-in the curve of her cheeks, in her mouth-and those eyes. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him, if she even remembered that day the same way he did; or whether the dreams meant as much. a.s.suming she had ever understood their significance.

You don't know her, whispered a small mean voice. Eight years of silence. She's changed. You have, too. Be careful.

Careful. If he had been careful, he would never have been exiled in the first place. Or come back.

Perrin pulled the woman to the surface, holding her head high. She sucked down a deep breath that ended in a raw, hacking cough.

”Are you hurt?” he asked roughly, rubbing his aching eyes with the back of his hand.

”No,” she replied, hoa.r.s.e. ”Y-you?”

He was surprised she asked. All he could do was shake his head, feeling dumb, throat too tight for words. His mind couldn't wrap around what was happening: seeing her, seeing A'lesander. All this, and the darkness stirring below them all. It was too much.

Perrin twisted around until he floated on his back. The sky was so blue. He held the woman close, one arm wrapped around her upper waist. She had no way of holding on to him with her hands, but he was nonetheless startled by the sensation of her leg sliding across his lower torso and tail. He flinched, and she froze.

”I'm sorry,” she whispered. ”But I need -”

”Yes, I know,” he replied tersely. ”It's . . . fine.”

More than fine. He savored the sensation of her body pressed against his own. Not a dream. This was real. She was here. Same voice, that glint of red hair. He had found the girl.

And it made him feel as though he were losing his mind.

Perrin swam them toward A'lesander and grabbed a fistful of his hair. The woman exhaled sharply, her breath warm against his shoulder. All of her was warm, so much so that he feared she was ill. Her gaze, too bright, traveled down the Krackeni's bobbing body.

”He's not dead,” Perrin said, but that elicited no response. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to ask who had tied her hands and put her in the water, but he knew the answer. He couldn't imagine how this woman had gotten mixed up with A'lesander. His presence here, now, was a very bad sign.

Perrin pulled them back to the boat. Only when they were close to the ladder did he let go of A'lesander, and grab the bottom rung. His tail s.h.i.+fted, bones cracking; skin rippling in silver streaks as his legs re-formed. The woman stared down through the water, first in astonishment, then with a thoughtfulness that made Perrin feel ill at ease, exposed. Like he was a guinea pig. He tightened his hold around her waist.

”This may be uncomfortable,” he said.

She gave him a questioning look, which ended in a grunt as he tossed her over his shoulder. She made no other sound as he climbed the ladder, taking care not to let her slide away from him. She almost did, and he was forced to dump her, rather awkwardly, onto the deck.

Perrin followed. ”I promise to free your hands, but I need rope, quick. For him.”

”Equipment bin,” she said, without hesitation. Perrin scanned the deck-but stopped when he saw the body near the bow. Dolphin. He thought of Rik, and shook that thought from his head.

The woman followed his gaze. ”I think he did that last night.”

Perrin said nothing. He knelt beside the corpse. His hand hovered over the cold cracked skin, and that black glazed eye could have been a fragment of polished stone. The wound was vicious.

He heard a shuffling sound. Found the woman staggering toward the equipment box. He beat her to it, placing a steadying hand on the small of her back. She froze when he touched her, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand away.

”I'll take care of this,” he said, glancing back at the dolphin. Anger filled him, a primitive rage that started in his chest and rose high into his throat until he wanted to scream in frustration.

”Do you know why?” asked the woman, gesturing with her chin toward the corpse.

”Dolphins talk,” Perrin replied, and sensed her frown before he saw it.

He grabbed the rope and strode quickly to the ladder. A'lesander continued to drift, but his fingers were twitching. Perrin jumped into the ocean, and hauled the Krackeni close, tying his hands behind his back with one end of the rope. He carried the other half up the ladder-braced his feet into the deck-and began hauling A'lesander into the boat.

The woman peered over the rail. ”I suppose you know that you're pulling his arms out of their joints.”

Perrin grunted. ”You care?”

The woman gave him a long look. ”Not in the slightest.”

A'lesander slipped onto the boat, his arms twisted in odd directions. His dorsal fin flopped, and silver scales rippled from his torso down the muscular length of his tail. Perrin looped the rope around the Krackeni's neck-once, twice-and tied the end around his bound hands. No good restraining the rest of him until he s.h.i.+fted shape.

”Do you have a place to secure him?” he asked the woman.

She had been staring, and blinked hard. ”Yes. Follow . . . follow me.”

Perrin grabbed A'lesander's hair and dragged him off deck through the door that the woman pa.s.sed through. Bits of scalp tore away. He didn't s.h.i.+ft his grip except to tighten his fingers, and refused to let go until she led him to a room that had to be hers.

”It's already been emptied of anything that could be a weapon,” she explained, voice breaking on that last word.

Perrin tossed A'lesander on the floor and rubbed his hand against his thigh.

”Your knuckles are bleeding,” said the woman.

”So is he.” Perrin backed out of the room and closed the door. A thick board was in the hall. He laid it lengthwise across the floor-bracing it against the wall and door-and found that it fit perfectly as a rough lock. He suspected it had already been used as such.

The hall was small. Perrin had to bend over to keep from brus.h.i.+ng his head against the ceiling. His shoulders touched the walls. The woman stood before him, a good deal smaller, though her gaze was bold-if not a little wild. A tic in her right cheek betrayed a hint of nerves. Perrin didn't know what to say to her, how to explain anything-or even how much he could say. He had no time.

”My hands,” she said.

”Yes,” he replied. ”Knives.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she backed away from him, slow and careful. He followed, holding his breath, afraid he was losing his mind.

She led him to a kitchenette. He found a knife in a drawer. Her shoulders tensed when he picked it up. He wanted to smile for her but could not. Rea.s.surance had never been his strength.

”Turn around,” he said roughly. ”Hold still.”

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