Page 66 of Blood on the Tide

But maybe it’s a blessing in disguise that I can’t speak the truth, can’t take away her hope. I’ve brought Lizzie so much suffering. I’ve broken through her cold exterior only to hurt her again and again. I just wish I could be sure I’d live long enough to say I’m sorry.

chapter 34

Lizzie

The Crimson Hag lists drunkenly in the water, but it doesn’t seem to be going down in a hurry. I could give a fuck. Not with Maeve listlessly treading water beside me. Hurt. She’s so fucking hurt. There’s as much of her blood in the water around us as there is the mermaid’s. Too much.

Her body ripples, and I barely have a chance to get my arm around her as her skin falls away and leaves the human woman behind. I make a mad grab for the pelt. There’s no fucking way I’m letting that sink to the bottom of this damned bay. When Maeve wakes up—because she will wake up—it won’t be to learn that she’s once again missing a vital part of herself.

The pelt is heavy, the fur large and waterlogged, dragging at me. I may be significantly stronger than a human, but I’ve never been the strongest swimmer. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. If I go under, then Maeve dies, and Maeve cannot die tonight. The thought shakes me to my very core. “No dying,” I pant. “You don’t get to... declare your love and then pass... tragically.” I do another pass over her with my magic, pressing it into her wounds to keep her from bleeding out. I’ve never tried to do something like this before. I’m so much better versed in killing than in healing. Except this isn’t healing at all. I’m only commanding the blood in her body to stay in her body. Or trying. It feels more slippery than normal, whether that’s because my concentration is split or Maeve’s blood is resisting my magic...

I don’t know if I’m doing enough. I’m terrified that I’m not.

She lolls in my arms, unconscious. If not for the faint pulse of her heartbeat, I might believe she’d already slipped beyond my reach. “No.” I fight my way through the waves, foot by agonizing foot. “Live, Maeve. You have to live.”

I drag Maeve and her pelt through the water. If she was conscious, she would tell me to stay, to make sure Siobhan gets out safely, but she’s not and so I’m getting her away from Siobhan and the Crimson Hag. The whole damned rebellion can burn for all I care. Maeve is not dying tonight. “Stay alive, baby. Keep breathing. You have to keep breathing.” With every stroke of my free arm, I curse myself for leaving her unprotected. And for what? Some fucking jewels. As if those lifeless gems could ever compare to the woman in my arms.

I should have ignored her insistence that I go for them. Should have fought my way back into the water faster after she shoved me through the hole. Should have...

A ripple of water is my only warning before a dark head pops up above the surface. I start to lash out, but they easily catch my foot. “Don’t be a fucking fool, vampire. I don’t want her dead, either.”

Siobhan.

I don’t allow myself to feel relief. We’re still hundreds of yards from the shore, and I may have stopped more of Maeve’s blood from leaving her body, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be okay. My power pings over and over again with the sheer number of wounds she carries. She must’ve fought for so long. She should have run, should have protected herself instead of trying to ensure the ship kept sinking. I pull Maeve closer. “This is your fucking fault, shifter.”

“Let me help you.”

This is what Maeve’s life will be like if she’s left to her own devices. Fodder in a war fought by people more powerful than her. A martyr. Maybe not even that; maybe she’ll just be a body that’s fallen by the wayside as others pursue their ambitious goals. She deserves better. She deserves to have someone watching her back, ensuring that she reaches that ripe old age.

I don’t deserve her. I have no illusions about that. She’s too good, too honorable. But she deserves me. I’ll make the calls she’s too decent to make, and I won’t hesitate to bloody my hands to keep her safe. I’ll do anything to keep her safe.

I’ve already fucking failed.

“I’m going to rip out your throat,” I gasp.

“Noted.” Siobhan dips beneath the waves again, and then she’s at our side, easily pushing me away from Maeve and wrapping her arm under Maeve’s chest. “I’ve got her.”

I’m having a hard enough time carrying the pelt, weighted down with the water the way it is. And Siobhan is taking obvious care with Maeve, which is all I could ask for. As much as I want to keep her in my arms, to measure the beat of her heart with my arm over her chest, Siobhan is obviously the stronger swimmer. She won’t let Maeve drown. She better fucking not. I clutch the pelt to my chest. “If she dies, you die.”

Siobhan ignores my threat. We swim toward the shore in strained silence as Maeve’s color gets paler and paler. She’s not actively bleeding, but obviously she’s not anywhere close to waking up. To being okay.

I might lose her.

The thought is incomprehensible. Last night we exchanged words of love, and now her heartbeat is slowing to the point that, without my powers, I would think it’s not beating at all. I barely came to terms with the fact that I don’t want to leave, and now she’s leaving me.

It takes far too long to reach the rocky beach near the cave we started the night in. Siobhan touches down first, sweeping Maeve into her arms and whisking her up onto dry land. I follow a few steps behind. My muscles quiver and shake, and the pelt feels approximately five thousand pounds. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my pathetically long life, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maeve needs me. I won’t falter. I can’t lose her. I fucking refuse.

I reach the cave in time to see Siobhan lay Maeve down carefully on the floor. “Second crate down,” she says without looking up. “There are medical supplies.”

I don’t take the time to argue. I shove the top crate away and rip open the second one. Some of the medical supplies look vaguely familiar, but most of them are completely foreign to me. Whether that means they’re magical or simply a different technology is anyone’s guess. I’ve hardly spent my time worrying about how to heal people when my blood—

My blood.

I grab bandages and rush back to them. “My blood can heal her.” I wasn’t willing to take the chance on the Serpent’s Cry. I had been out of my mind with worry, but it was clear she was recovering. That’s not the case now. I don’t know what happens if a selkie imbibes vampire blood, but if she doesn’t, it’s increasingly looking like she might slip away permanently.

I won’t let her die. No matter what it takes.

Siobhan has been busy in the seconds that I was away, using her claws to cut the suit from Maeve’s body. The wounds revealed make my stomach twist. I’m hardly queasy when it comes to evidence of violence, but this is Maeve. Stab wounds cover her entire body. I have no idea how she fought as long as she did. The bandages in my hands won’t cover half of them. I drop them, my chest so tight, I’m having a hard time drawing breath. “You said no martyrs, Maeve,” I whisper. She should have run. Why didn’t she fucking run?

---