“That’s a tall tale.”
“I know too many of those that turn out to be real.” Wade reached for the leather jacket wrapped around his waist. “You’re going to need this back.”
“Here,” Donal said from the cabin, tossing Wade a bright yellow raincoat taken from one of the emergency supply stashes. “Use this to cover up.”
Wade swapped Riordan’s sealskin for the raincoat that fell to midthigh, offering it back with a freeness that made Riordan swallow hard. Wade patted the leather jacket, a faint smile curving his lips. “Don’t let her eat you. Tell the boats to scatter and head to a different island. Have your clan work to get her to the surface, and I’ll handle her from there.”
“You said she was a god,” Riordan said.
“Yeah, I have experience with those fuckers.”
Riordan reeled him in for a quick, hard kiss, knowing they didn’t have time for lingering goodbyes. “Get on the lifeboat and get to shore.”
Wade nodded, sliding over the deck for the railing. Riordan could see the lifeboat bouncing amongst the waves, a selkie attempting to stabilize it from one end by holding the towrope. Wade flung himself over the railing, and Riordan pitched himself to that side of the yacht, looking to make sure Wade made it where he was supposed to go.
He’d ended up in the water, but a selkie was right next to him in the waves, guiding him to the lifeboat. The fae and werecreatures on it helped haul him aboard, and the selkies in charge of getting them to the island grabbed the tow lines and started swimming for shore through the white-capped waves.
“Come on, boyo. We have an Oilliphéist to fight,” Donal said.
“We’ll need to set up riptides and whirlpools to keep her away from the island. I’ll anchor those,” Riordan said.
He’d have the entire clan in the water with him this time, blending their water magic together. If they survived this, he’d take them all on a vacation somewhere.
Maybe New York City.
Riordan stripped out of his soaked clothes and dove overboard, Donal close behind him. He cut through the top of frothing waves, going under, cold water closing over him. He rolled into a shift, sealskin spreading over his body, limbs and body changing into the torpedo-like shape of a seal.
Riordan knew where his clan members were in the vastness of the sea. The magic that tied them to the water let him sense their location with brief bursts of power. The mental map laid out before him grew in pinpricks—a few, then a dozen, then most of the clan stretched out along the length of Greater Brewster Island.
Somewhere far away and coming closer was the echoing, sonorous sound he’d heard before in his patrols—deep and hair-raising. He knew what the threat was now, knew what they’d have to fight against while Harper and the others fought to free Casey on the land. Riordan didn’t know if Niall would join Caoránach in the sea, but if that fae did, he’d be fair game.
Riordan twisted in the water, letting his magic flow with the motion. Donal joined him, the pair of them blending their magic together to alter the force of the underwater tides into something different—a riptide of magic that could hopefully act like a barrier against the sea serpent charging their way beneath the waves.
Other clan members joined his efforts, bridging their locations with tightly spun water magic that the selkies further out guided around the ends of the island. Riordan could sense them through the tangle of water magic he was tied to. He wasn’t sure if they’d be able to surround the island in time, but his clan would try.
Nose closed against the water, Riordan flicked his flippers and dove down into the dark toward the seabed, hunting for the softly glowing marks he knew were down there. As he swam deeper, one of the marks appeared, shining softly in the dark water. Riordan circled the mark, reaching one flipper out to touch it on one pass. He got immediate feedback, a burst of warning from all the rest in the bay waters. In his mind, he could see the passage of Caoránach through the waters like a dangerous missile, but more than that, he could sense other selkies not of his clan swimming toward them, calling out through the territory marks.
It seemed all the selkie clans in Boston had answered his call. Whether or not they’d get to the island in time to join the fight remained to be seen.
Riordan pushed the information out through the net connecting his clan members, letting his knowledge be shared through their magic. When their magic was all tied together like this, they could share the meaning and intent of their thoughts, even if they couldn’t share the actual words.
If Caoránach was truly a god, they couldn’t fight her and win, but they could direct her wrath to the surface, where hopefully Wade could handle her. Riordan was putting all of his faith in the younger man’s hands—and wings and claws and fire—but he knew it wasn’t misplaced. Lady Caith could help Harper and the others track down Casey. Wade was his clan’s backup, and Riordan knew he would fight with them.
Another sonorous cry echoed through the water—deep and malevolent. Riordan swam faster, building the riptides up into the tight spin of a whirlpool. Through the churning water, distant but coming closer, were streaks of bioluminescence in the deep water.
Fuath.
Riordan sent a warning to the clan even as he kicked his flippers and zoomed toward the surface, sucking in another lungful of air. He crested a wave and dove back under, nostrils closing tight. The roar of the storm quieted a little once he was back under. The pull of the underwater tides and the whirlpools his clan was building required more effort to swim through.
Saoirse swam up beside him, smaller and sleeker than him and Donal in her seal form, the brown coloring of her fur something he’d missed seeing. He skimmed a fin over her back for a moment before parting ways, attention on the rapidly approaching fuath.
Again, that sonorous cry echoed through the depths of the harbor’s seawater. It made some part of Riordan want to turn and flee, but he shredded that desire like he would fish caught in his seal teeth. Instead, he held fast in the water, determined tofight for his clan and guard their territory shared with the other kin who called Boston home.
It only took a minute more for the fuath to reach their position guarding the approach to the shoreline of Greater Brewster Island. The fuath numbered more than he liked, but his clan was ready for the attack as the first wave of Caoránach’s crashed against their defenses like waves against a cliff.
Riordan charged with open-mouthed fury, ramming the closest fuath and ripping its throat out with his teeth in a tight spin. Its bioluminescence flickered before fading out as it sank to the seabed.
Bubbles streamed from Riordan’s mouth due to his swift passage through the water as he targeted another fuath, dragging the dangerous riptide with him. It caught the next fuath in its terrible pull, sucking it up into the vicious whirlpool spinning behind them. It ripped the fuath to shreds, bioluminescence fading with its death.
