Surrendering (Swans Landing) (13 page)

But it was the human part of me that I should have feared all along.

“Joshua—”

But Mom’s words were cut off by a shout and a new sound from the water behind me.

Rising from the crashing waves was an army pulling a boat. A long, slender boat, in which stood Domnall, king of Hether Blether, his mouth twisted into a fierce snarl as his eyes met mine.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Domnall stepped out of the boat, wading through knee high water until he stood on shore. The rest of the men and women that had come with him fanned out to each side. There were about twenty of them and they looked tired and thinner than before, their faces gaunt and cheekbones clearly visible.

But Domnall’s smile was as wicked as I remembered. I moved in front of my mom, pushing her behind me.

“We meet again,” Domnall said, inclining his head toward me in a mock bow.

“We’re prepared for you,” I told him. “We’ll fight for this island.”

“And the humans as well?” Domnall asked with a sneer. “Will you fight for them?”

“Filthy abominations!” Mom spat behind me. “Go back to the ocean where you belong!”

I tried to clamp a hand over her mouth, but Mom twisted away from me, screaming obscenities at the finfolk who stared evenly back at her, none of them seeming to be affected by her words. Artair, the captain of Domnall’s guard, stood at his king’s side, his face grim.

Domnall’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Mom and then me. He opened his mouth and began to sing, a low humming that vibrated around us, mixing with the sound of the water.

Mom’s cries fell silent as the first golden bursts sparkled in my vision. The human part of me made me susceptible to the song’s effects, but Mom would be even more so, being fully human. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in an O shape.

“Mom!” I called, squeezing my eyes shut. “Don’t listen to it. It’s not real. Whatever you see, it’s not really there.”

“Oliver!” Mom gasped. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

My body shook with the effort to resist the song that wrapped itself around me. I could feel the call of it inside me and still saw the golden bursts even with my eyes shut tight. “Josh,” a voice whispered in my ear. A man’s voice, one I had only ever imagined and couldn’t be sure that it was right. I knew what I would see when I opened my eyes. I knew that it wasn’t real, but yet, I couldn’t stop myself from looking.

My father stood on the beach, smiling as he lifted a hand toward me. I bit my lip, choking back the sob in my throat.
It’s not real,
I reminded myself.

But he looked so solid. Mom fell to her knees, her shoulders shaking. “Oliver,” she said. “Forgive me.”

“Their minds are so easily bent,” Domnall said. The song started to fade as he stopped singing and I felt my own conscious mind coming back to me. “So weak. So foolish.” He laughed. “Did you think I didn’t know about your little secret? Your sister was careless in letting me find out that you had human blood.”

I remembered when Sailor told me back in Hether Blether that Domnall suspected we were part human. He had sung, trying to get her to reveal the truth about herself, but she had resisted him. She had fought back.

We may have been human, but we were still finfolk too.

“Do you know that I can control her mind with the song?” Domnall asked. “What should I have her do? Drown herself?”

Mom stood on shaky legs and walked toward the ocean. She didn’t notice when the cold water lapped at her knees. “Oliver,” she gasped, pushing farther into the surf.

She had lied to me. She had killed my father and let me—let everyone—believe the finfolk had been to blame.

I clenched my jaw, fighting with myself. “No,” I croaked out as I fought the effects of Domnall’s song.

“No?” Domnall asked, and Mom dropped to her knees in the surf. Her body shook with sobs as she crawled back onto the sand.

“I didn’t mean to, Oliver,” she said, reaching a hand into the empty air, her eyes wide at the sight only she could see.

Murderer,
a voice in my head whispered. But the person on her hands and knees in the sand didn’t look like she could kill anyone. She cried out, her face wet with salt water and tears.

Domnall was singing again, louder this time. I had to get away from the song. They would come after me if I ran, still singing. There was only one way I could go to block out the sound. A way that wouldn’t allow my mother to come with me. I had to make a choice. Stay and fall under their influence like my mother, or leave and save myself.

Mara. I had to save Mara. I had to warn everyone else that Domnall was here.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sucked in a deep breath, and then gritted my teeth as I opened my eyes again. I forced my foot to move. First one and then the other. I kept my gaze on the gray ocean, ignoring my mom’s cries behind me.

“Stop him,” Domnall growled, the song faltering as he spoke.

It was enough. I took the momentary relief to lunge forward, pushing myself across the sand and into the crashing waves.

* * *

My body tumbled through the current as the change overtook me. Pain seared through my bones as they popped and moved. My skin stretched and scales ripped through them, covering my legs as they fused into a tail fin.

They were sure to come after me. I knew that water couldn’t stop them, but I had the element of surprise on my side, as well as the fact that I knew the island better than they did.

I launched myself through the water, staying under the surface to make it harder for them to track me. I swam as hard as I could, rocketing along the coast, following the curve of the land under the surface that I had swam hundreds of times. I knew how far it was from the pier at the northern end of the island to the next point, the halfway mark where someone else would be on patrol.

I barely paused during the change from finfolk to human, pushing myself toward the shore until my legs were two separate limbs again and I could walk. My jeans were tattered shreds, the ends floating around me on the water’s surface.

The figure that waited on the beach had stood, his gaze focused on me as I rose from the water. I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no one else surfacing behind me. I hoped I had gotten ahead of them, I hoped I had bought us some time.

As I drew closer to shore, I could make out the long blonde hair that flapped in the wind and the tall, narrow body that tensed at my presence.

“Dylan!” I called as I pushed through the rolling surf that tried to pull me back out to sea. “They’re here! The finfolk are here!”

Dylan’s face lost all color and his scowl melted away. “Where?”

I pointed north. “Near the pier. They just surfaced. They have my mom.”

Dylan raced across the sand without a word. I followed, climbing the dunes that separated the beach from the shops along this side of Heron Avenue. Dylan raced up the staircase that led to Moody’s Variety Store while I sprinted across the street, turning corners until I reached the blue house up on stilts.

Bursting through the door, I called out as loud as I could, “They’re here!”

Callum and Sailor appeared immediately, their faces both ghostly white. “Domnall?” Callum asked.

I nodded. “They came ashore near the pier. They’re here.”

“What do we do?” Sailor asked.

“You stay here,” Callum told her. “I’ll go. Maybe I can talk to them.”

“I’m not staying behind!” Sailor exclaimed, shooting Callum a scowl. “If you go, I go.”

I didn’t have time to listen to them argue. I found my bag of clothes and peeled off the tattered jeans before pulling on a new pair. I understood now why the Hether Blether finfolk all wore robes.

I left the two of them arguing in the doorway while I raced back down the stairs. I cut through yards, jumping over fences and bushes and dodging dogs to reach Mara’s house.

I pounded on her front door. “Mara! They’re here!”

The door swung open, but it was Lake and not Mara who looked out at me. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all in at least two days, and his face was covered with thick brown stubble.

“Where?” he asked calmly.

“The pier,” I said.

Lake nodded, his face grim. He pushed past me and hurried down the stairs, running when he reached the ground.

“What’s going on?” Mara appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide.

“They’re here,” I told her.

Her mouth dropped open. “We’re out of time?”

I nodded. “And they have my mom.”

Mara swallowed and then held her shoulders back. She stepped outside, reaching for my hand and entwining her fingers with mine. “Let’s go,” she said.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The finfolk crested the dunes as we reached Heron Avenue. Lake, Mara, Dylan’s parents, and I stood in a group on one side of the road. Behind them, another crowd approached. Dylan and Mr. Moody led the way with a few other finfolk and humans.

A jolt went through me when I saw my mother standing among Domnall’s people. She looked even more lost and confused than usual, though no one was singing. What tricks did they know to create lasting effects on the human mind without the song?

Mara must have felt me tense, because she reached for my hand and squeezed tight.

“We do not wish to fight anyone,” Domnall said, examining us and then the group behind him. He held his arms out, palms up, as if to show that he had no weapons. But he was dangerous even without being armed. “We have come in peace.”

“Peace?” asked a voice behind me. I turned as Callum limped his way toward us, Sailor at his side. He stared at Domnall, his mouth curled into a snarl. “You’ve come to invade a land that doesn’t belong to you. That is not my definition of peace.”

“We have come,” Domnall spoke in a louder voice, his shoulders back, “to reunite our people with those who are lost. We have come to strengthen the finfolk population, to offer you hope in a world controlled by humans.”

“No, thanks,” Lake said, crossing his arms. “We like our world the way it is.”

“Only because you know nothing else,” Domnall told him. “Your ancestors took away your chance to be with your own kind. They left their people behind, but we are offering you a choice. A chance to be whole, to be who you are meant to be, in a place where you are free to do it.”

“And what exactly do you call freedom, Domnall?” Callum asked. He gestured at his leg, where the end of the metal leg stuck out from the bottom of his pants. “Cutting off limbs? That’s your freedom? Restricting people to a single place? Instilling fear and hatred of the outside world?”

Domnall’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at Callum. “You, dear brother, are a traitor to us. Your punishment is your own doing. As for the rest of your claims, everything I do is for the protection of my people. The human world has tainted us! It has introduced illness, of both mind and body. It has made us weak. United, we can be strong again. We can ensure that the race of our people continues for generations to come. That is what I offer you now. Hope. A future.”

“And what about those of us who are human?” Mr. Richter asked. “Where do we fit into your new world?”

Domnall sneered. “Humans are of no concern to me.”

Mr. Moody raised his shotgun, the barrel pointed steadily at Domnall. “There ain’t no one here who wants your future, sir, so I suggest you get off our island.”

Domnall turned to face Mr. Moody, looking unconcerned about the weapon pointed his way. He opened his mouth and the notes of the finfolk song filled the air. I clamped my hands over my ears, though it wouldn’t block it out.

Mr. Moody’s arms trembled and he blinked. He stared at something in front of him, lowering the gun. “Gale,” he said, his voice trembling.

“That’s enough!” Lake dashed forward, his face twisted in pain. He lunged at Domnall, but Artair and another guard stepped in his path, holding him back. It was enough to distract Domnall though, and the song faded, leaving Mr. Moody and the other humans shaking their heads.

“Very well,” Domnall roared, his face red. “If you will not join us peacefully, we will find ways to convince you.” He waved a hand toward Lake. “Take away his ability to change.”

“No!” I shouted, stepping forward. Mara looked at me in confusion, but her eyes were wide. We hadn’t explained one of the other things the finfolk could do with the song: use it to stop someone from changing to finfolk form. Domnall had had it done to Callum years ago. As he had explained to Sailor and me, it was a difficult process and took a lot of energy, a lot more than healing someone did. It was only done in extreme circumstances.

“You have no right, Domnall,” Callum said through clenched teeth.

“I have every right,” Domnall replied. “As I have reminded you before, you are not king, Callum. You gave up your claim.”