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But just before the darkness pulled me completely under, Kellen whispered something that I hadn’t heard since the day he’d offered his life to the UIB in exchange for mine. Something that pulled me back from the brink of unconsciousness, flooding what was left of my bloodstream with panic.
“Is fíor bhur ngrá,” he rasped, dropping his forehead to mine.
Saoirse’s blessing.
My eyes shot open as Kellen pulled the knife out of his boot and turned to face Alexi, and with defiance in his eyes and a scream on my lips, he plunged the blade straight into his own heart.
CHAPTER 2
CLOVER
TWENTY-ONE YEARS LATER
Giving the bundle of knotted rope in my hands an exasperated shake, I let my head fall back with a groan.
I’d never be able to prove it, but I suspected that Da took great pleasure in tangling up his own fishing nets. He was probably spying on me at that very moment, laughing his arse off while I struggled to straighten them back out.
Arsehole.
I stared up at the overcast sky and prayed for an afternoon shower, one so heavy that I’d finally be allowed to come inside and take a break. But all I got was a single drop of rain—one perfectly timed splat, right between the eyes. It felt like the almighty himself had just spat in my face.
Which was fitting, considering that I was in my own personal hell. Actually, in my version of hell, I wouldn’t be standing in front of a house that resembled a crusty white barnacle growing on top of a cliff overlooking the Irish Sea. I’d be standing in front of a mountain. One so tall that it broke through the swirling thunderclouds overhead. So wide that it wrapped around me on both sides, caging me in. But this monstrosity wouldn’t be made of stone or ice or flows of lava. No, the mountain of my nightmares would be formed from something far more horrifying.
An endless hellscape of reeking, knotted fishing nets.
With a defeated sigh, I dropped my head, wiped my rain-splattered nose on my shoulder, and allowed my attention to drift toward the sea. I could only resist that view for so long, and the more monotonous my chores were, the more difficult it became.
The wind was relentless as I trudged over to the cliff’s edge, dragging the heap of tangled rope behind me. I’d thrown on a pair of shorts that morning, thinking, surely, it would be warm enough for them in mid-June—a decision that I was now regretting. Goose bumps covered my exposed legs, and every strand of hair that hadn’t made it into my messy bun lashed me in the face, but I was too distracted to notice.
Dropping the net, I pulled the hem of my jumper down with one hand and shielded my eyes with the other.
I’d lived on the Howth peninsula my entire life, but the sight of the sea and the grassy little island that sparkled just offshore never failed to take my breath away. Ireland’s Eye, as the island was called, felt like an oasis that was always just beyond my reach—a tiny, tranquil, floating hill, abandoned by civilization. The only buildings on the Eye were two small stone ruins, and the only creatures that lived there were a few rats and rabbits and sea birds and a colony of plump gray seals who liked to sunbathe on the rocky beach.
As beautiful as it was, the island wasn’t what drew my attention to the sea day after day. It was hope. Dumb, stupid, pointless hope.
I still remembered the exact moment when I’d learned what a selkie was. It was my first day back at school after Ma’s accident, and I had no real concept of where she’d gone. I was only seven at the time, and no one had bothered to explain to me what had happened. I’d just woken up one morning to the sound of Da breaking things. He was fall-down drunk, slurring about Ma being “gone” and “not coming back.”
Then, for the next few days, he just sat slumped over in his armchair, staring blankly at the TV with drool in his beard and a bottle of Jameson in his fist. He couldn’t even sober up long enough to go to the funeral. My aunt and uncle took me, but they didn’t want to talk about what had happened either. Everybody had just cried a lot and hugged me a lot and said that they were sorry and that I’d see her again one day.
When?
When will I see her?
Where did she go?
Can I call her?
Can I visit?
Can I go live with her instead of Da?
He was so scary now that she wasn’t around. And mean. He said he couldn’t stand how much I looked like her. He told me to stay in my room so that he wouldn’t have to see my face.
Why did she have to leave me with him?
There were so many questions that I’d been too afraid to ask. Not only because I was terrified of upsetting my father, but because I was even more terrified that someone might tell me the truth. That she really was gone. Forever.
“A selkie,” Ms. Bell announced, pointing to an illustration on the screen in the front of the classroom, “is a mythological creature, believed to live in the waters of Scotland and Ireland. It looks like a seal, but when it removes its seal coat, it looks human.”
