Page 10 of Cerban
But to seek help meant confessing. Pam had warned us clearly: no contact with the staff. No exceptions. After Kelon’s disgrace, every rule had been sharpened to a blade. If I carried Maelis to a human medic, there would be questions I could not answer without exposing us both.
I looked down at her again. Her lashes trembled against her cheeks, her chest rising too shallowly. She needed a healer. Not rules. Not politics. A healer.
“I should not have spoken to you,” I murmured. “I should have turned away when I saw you dance.” The words tore at my throat. “But if the price for saving you is punishment, then so be it.”
She stirred faintly, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak, but no sound came. My heart clenched. I bent closer and gathered her into my arms. She felt far too light, limp as seagrass, head lolling against my shoulder. I adjusted my grip, so her face was turned away from the rain and started up the beach.
The wind clawed at me, dragging at her damp hair, driving salt into my eyes, but I didn’t slow. Each step sank into wet sand, but still I pushed on, muscles aching from the dive and the fight against the current.
The resort’s lights glimmered faintly through the sheets of rain, my only beacon. Somewhere in those buildings were humans trained in medicine. They would know how to ease her breathing, how to prevent hidden injuries from stealing her away later.
Pam would rage. Paul would lecture. Rainse might even laugh at my stupidity. None of it mattered.
Rules could be mended. Reputations rebuilt. A life could not.
I tightened my hold on Maelis and strode faster toward the cluster of lights, my gills burning with every breath of storm air. Whatever punishment awaited me, I would face it. But first... She had to live.
7
Maelis
The first thing I noticed when I woke was a steady hum and the feeling of cool air on my face. A mask was strapped over my face, offering sweet, refreshing oxygen.
The second was the argument.
“She needs rest,” Paul was saying, his voice tight with authority. “And you need to go. You’ve done enough already.”
“No,” came the reply, low and rough as the sea at night. The alien. The finman. I still didn't know his name. “I will not leave her.”
I blinked against the dim light until the room swam into focus. The infirmary was no bigger than a broom closet with a bed shoved in, cupboards along one wall, and a humming oxygen cylinder at my side. Rain rattled the small window, proof that the storm hadn’t yet blown itself out.
I'd only been in here a few times, mostly to accompany resort visitors who'd got sunburnt or who'd got in touch with jellyfish. The only time I'd ever needed medical care myself had been a large scrape on my arm sustained while diving - I'd misjudged the distance between me and a coral.
But I did know the nurse, Tyrone, very well. He was a shy guy who rarely joined the staff parties, but I'd had many friendly conversations with him. When it was just the two of us, he came out of his shell. Now, he was fussing with a clipboard but throwing anxious looks at the two men squared off beside me. Paul, damp and red-faced, blocking the door as though he could bar a wall of muscle with his sheer disapproval. The finman stood tall and immovable, seawater still dripping from the algae clinging to his shoulders.
My saviour.
The memory came back in jolts: the cave collapsing, the blackness closing in, his mouth sealing over mine, warm air flooding my lungs. The terror, the trust. His arms carrying me through the storm as if I weighed nothing at all. I dimly remembered lying on sand, but then it all went blank. He must have brought me here.
“I told you, she’ll be monitored here until the weather clears,” Tyrone said briskly. I was proud of him for standing his ground. “Once it’s safe, she’ll need to be flown out to a hospital. Hyperbaric chamber, just in case. But right now, rest and warmth are all that matter until the storm clears and the airport reopens.”
“I can watch her,” the finman growled. “If her heart changes, I will hear it. If her breathing falters, I will know.”
Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s not how this works. We can’t have staff and… guests… mixing. You know the rules.”
I shifted weakly, my hand tugging at the blanket. The movement silenced them both. Two sets of eyes – one human, one alien – snapped to me.
“Maelis,” Paul said quickly, relief in his tone. “Don’t try to talk. You’re safe. You–”
"I'm fine," I croaked, pushing the mask off my face. "It was just a bit of seawater."
Tyrone glared at me. "Your blood oxygen levels are way lower than they should be. And if what Cerban here is saying is true, you resurfaced too fast. You could end up with decompression sickness. If I had my way, you'd be on a plane to the nearest hospital. But as all planes and helicopters are grounded until the storm lessens, you will stay here, under my constant observation."
The bends. Not good. Down in the cave, all I'd wanted had been to be back on the island. I'd forgotten to tell the alien that he should resurface slowly, taking breaks at regular intervals. He wouldn't have known that human bodies weren't made for being underwater.
I almost laughed. Every time I took clients for a dive, I explained to them the risks of decompression sickness. I should have known better. At the same time, I would be dead if it hadn't been for him. Wait, Tyrone had said his name.
Cerban.
