Chapter Nine
Orvik
I shouldn't be here. I should have given Callum some bogus excuse and refused to go.
But I've never been a man who could lie.
I'm loading equipment onto my skiff, methodically securing each item in its designated place, when I sense her approach.
Even without turning around, I know it's Jackie walking down the dock.
The light footsteps. The subtle floral scent that somehow cuts through the heavy brine of the harbor.
The way my traitorous bioluminescent patterns begin to warm and tingle beneath my skin.
Damn Callum and his transparent machinations.
“Captain Peck needs to be released back at Gannet Rock, and since Mira's still away, you'll need to take Jackie,” he'd said with that infuriating selkie smirk.
When I suggested he could do it himself, he conveniently remembered an urgent meeting about the grant.
Three days. It's been three days since I fled from the back porch of the Siren's Call like a coward, my body glowing like a maritime distress signal for the entire parking lot to see.
Three days of avoiding the center, of switching my harbor patrol routes, of taking the long way around town just to minimize any chance of running into her.
And now here she is, and there's nowhere for me to hide.
I straighten and turn, keeping my expression neutral as she approaches. The morning sunlight catches in her golden hair, which is pulled back in that loose bun she favors, though a few strands have already escaped to dance around her face in the breeze.
My heart catches in my throat as my gaze trails the elegant curve of her body, clad in practical denim shorts and a simple white tank. My skin ripples with suppressed bioluminescence as I clench my jaw and force it down, but it barely dims.
“Good morning,” she says, her voice cooler than usual. She smiles, but it doesn't reach her beautiful ocean-blue eyes. “I have Captain Peck ready for transport.”
She gestures to the large carrier she's pulling on a small cart behind her. Inside, the gannet shifts restlessly, its beady eyes watching us with typical suspicion.
“The skiff is ready,” I reply equally stiffly. “We should depart immediately to take advantage of the calm waters.”
Jackie nods, and I help her load the carrier onto the skiff, careful to avoid any contact with her skin. Even so, my gills flutter beneath my uniform shirt in an involuntary response to her proximity.
There's no escaping from this. I know it now. I just don't know how to tell her.
What will she do? Will she reject me and call me a monster? She should.
“Captain Peck's final check showed excellent wing extension and strength,” she says, filling the awkward silence as I untie the mooring lines. “Dr. Enid gave her official approval yesterday afternoon.”
“Gannet Rock is approximately four miles offshore.” I nod, focusing intently on the task at hand. “We should reach it in twenty minutes.”
“Great.” She settles onto the passenger seat, placing her small backpack between her feet.
There are shadows under her eyes that the makeup she's wearing doesn't quite conceal.
Has she been sleeping poorly? A protective impulse pushes me to ask her a question, but I keep my mouth shut at the last minute.
Not your concern, I remind myself firmly.
I start the engine and guide the skiff away from the dock on autopilot.
I know these waters like my own tentacles.
As we clear the harbor and head into open water, I open the throttle, and the boat leaps forward across the waves.
The sea is relatively calm today, a gentle swell rolling beneath us, the surface glittering under the morning sun.
Jackie braces herself against the railing as we pick up speed, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. I instinctively ease back on the throttle.
“Are you uncomfortable with the speed?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the horizon.
“No, it's fine,” she assures me, though she doesn't loosen her grip. “I'm just not used to small boats. And I don't think I'd fare well in these waters without this railing to hold on to.”
I nod, slowing down the boat to a more comfortable speed for her. Almost immediately, her grip relaxes and her entire body seems to loosen. I understand her concern. For a kraken, falling into the ocean is hardly an inconvenience.
For a human, especially in colder waters like these, it's life-threatening. Not that I would ever allow anything to happen to her.
“The life vest is under your seat,” I tell her. “Though I don't anticipate any issues.”
She smiles faintly.
“Are you saying you'd fish me out if I fell in?”
“Of course,” I answer automatically. “It's my obligation to rescue individuals in distress at sea.”
Her smile fades, and she turns to look out at the waves. I mentally replay my words and wince internally. Why do I make everything sound so stiff and formal?
We lapse into silence as the boat skims over the water.
I'm acutely aware of her presence beside me.
The way she occasionally brushes back a strand of hair that's escaped her bun, the small adjustments she makes to balance against the boat's movement, the light freckles across her nose that become more visible in the bright sunlight.
The distance between us is barely two feet, yet it feels like an ocean and a single inch all at once.
“Is that it?” Jackie asks suddenly, pointing ahead to where a dark shape rises from the water.
“Yes,” I confirm. “Gannet Rock.”
As we draw closer, the rocky outcropping reveals its true nature.
A bustling seabird colony, numbering in the hundreds.
Northern gannets circle above the stone formation, their white bodies stark against the blue sky, wings tipped with black as if dipped in ink.
Their calls create a cacophony that carries across the water, a primal chorus of life and activity.
Jackie's expression transforms, her reserve melting away into pure wonder. Her blue eyes widen, her lips part in a soft oh of delight, and she leans forward eagerly.
“It's incredible,” she breathes. “I've never seen so many in one place.”
I navigate carefully around the submerged rocks that make this area treacherous for larger vessels. The gannets wheel overhead, some diving into the water around us with astonishing precision, plummeting from height to snatch fish just beneath the surface.
In his cage, Captain Peck begins to croak, the discordant sound both angry and full of yearning. The bird wants to return to the wild, to live free among the waves and the wind.
I understand how he feels.
“We should release him where he can orient himself before joining the colony,” Jackie says, assessing the environment.
I grunt in approval and guide the skiff into a small, protected cove on the leeward side of the rock where the water is calmer. This spot will give Captain Peck the best launch point, sheltered from the stronger currents that circle the formation.
“This is perfect,” Jackie says, already moving toward the carrier.
I cut the engine and drop a small anchor to hold our position. I lift the carrier onto a small platform, angling the opening toward the open ocean, and Jackie opens the door, speaking softly to Captain Peck, who has gone surprisingly quiet, his dark eyes taking in the familiar surroundings.
“Ready to go home, Captain?” she asks, her voice gentle as she reaches in with gloved hands.
She lifts him carefully, supporting his body while avoiding his dangerous beak. The bird remains uncharacteristically calm in her hands, as if sensing the importance of the moment.
“On the count of three,” Jackie says, positioning herself at the bow. “One… two… three!”
She raises her arms, giving Captain Peck space to spread his impressive wings. For a moment, nothing happens. The gannet hesitates, his head swiveling to take in his surroundings. Then, with surprising grace for such an ill-tempered patient, he launches himself from Jackie's hands.
His wings extend fully, powerful downstrokes carrying him upward. He circles the boat once, gaining altitude with each beat of his wings. The sunlight catches his white plumage, making him glow against the blue sky.
Then, just as he seems ready to join the distant colony, he makes a sudden dive, straight toward my head.
I duck instinctively, feeling the rush of air as Captain Peck swoops past where my face had been seconds before, delivering one final, failed attempt to peck his least favorite caretaker.
“Ungrateful feathered menace,” I mutter, straightening up.
To my surprise, Jackie bursts into laughter, the sound bright and musical over the waves.
“He really had to get in one last shot, didn't he? That was almost poetic.”
Something about the absurdity of the situation, the solemn release ceremony followed by the bird's petty revenge attempt, strikes me as genuinely funny. Before I can stop it, laughter rumbles up from my chest, unfamiliar but liberating.
Jackie's eyes widen at the sound, and for a moment she simply stares at me. Then her smile grows even brighter, and we're both laughing, the tension between us temporarily suspended.
“I think that officially counts as a successful release,” she says, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “Bad attitude and all.”
“He'll fit right in with this colony,” I agree, watching as Captain Peck joins a group of gannets circling above a school of fish. “They're notoriously temperamental.”
Jackie leans against the railing, still smiling as she watches our former patient integrate seamlessly with his wild counterparts.
The breeze plays with loose strands of her hair, and sunlight dances across her lovely face.
Her joy is so genuine, it radiates from every line of her.
Something loosens in my chest at the sight.
“I can't believe this is how I'm going to spend the rest of my career,” she says, her gaze still on the birds, Captain Peck now among them. “You must have done so many of them. Do you remember your first?”