“I don’t know, but it’s possible.” I looked up. “At this point, I’m willing to believe anything.”

“Why don’t you show me your computer?” Delilah said.

I led her into the living room where we kept the desk with the computer on it. “Here it is—but why?”

“Because I want to check for spyware, for Trojans, for worms, for anything he might have sent you. There are so many ways to hack into someone’s computer that it’s scary. And if he’s after all the information on you he can find…” She left the thought unfinished but I saw what she was getting at.

I curled up on the sofa, not wanting to know how far Terry had insinuated himself into my life without me realizing it. As I sat there, watching Delilah tap away at the keys, the reality of what was happening began to hit home. Terrance was really back in my life.

I glanced at the clock. Mitch should be home soon and I’d have to tell him what happened. “Can you guys stick around and help me explain?” I looked at Camille, as I picked at the hangnail on my thumb. “I know you’re busy but I just…”

“You’re afraid,” she said. “Not of Mitch, but of what he might say?”

I nodded. “I lied to him. Not fully, but I sure didn’t tell him everything. And I know he’ll understand but what if… what if…”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Again, I nodded. “What if he decides to leave me? To leave his child?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Delilah said. “Mitch is—Hello, what do we have here? Siobhan, has your computer been running a little slow lately?”

I frowned, thinking back. Mitch mainly used it to play World of Warcraft with his buddies, but I checked my e mail, did a little online shopping, kept my diary on it.

“Yeah, it has. For about a month. Mitch said maybe we need to defrag it but I’m not sure what that means. I can use Outlook and I can write in my journal and surf the Web but I don’t know much else about how a computer runs.”

“E-mail? Do you get a lot of spam mail?” She frowned, tapping away at the keys.

“Gods, yes. I delete probably fifty a day.”

“You should get Gmail. It has to work better than what you’re using right now. You say you do a lot of online shopping? What about online banking?” Delilah looked worried now, the black crescent scythe tattoo on her forehead flashing silver.

“Yeah, why?” I sat up. “What’s wrong?”

“I think…” she started to say, then paused and moved the mouse a few more times. “I think you’ve been hacked. There are a few processes going on in your task manager that I don’t recognize and they look suspicious to me.”

“Oh great gods, do you think Terrance is responsible?”

She shrugged. “Could be. I’m not positive that I’m right, though. I’d like to call Tim Winthrop over to take a look. He’d be able to tell better than me. Do you mind?”

Tim was a good friend of the D’Artigos. He was a female impersonator, though I heard he was giving it up, and he’d recently married his long term partner, Jason Binds. Mitch and I’d been invited to the wedding.

“Sure, go ahead.”

As Delilah flipped open her cell phone, I glanced at the clock again. Mitch should have called by now. I turned around, kneeling on the sofa to stare out the window at the rain thundering against the pavement.

Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. I had a sudden, intense urge to head out to the Sound, to slip on my skin and dive deep in the water, seeking shelter in the depths of the inlet. Every time I felt threatened, that was the first thing that came to mind—hide, run to the Ocean Mother’s bosom, and let her hold me tight.

“Tim will be over in about half an hour,” Delilah said, breaking my thoughts. “He’s bringing all his diagnostic gear with him. If anybody can figure out what’s going on with your computer, he can.”

Camille picked up the tea tray and carried it into the kitchen. “I’ll make us some more tea,” she said.

“Thank you. Everything feels so surreal. I can’t believe this is happening—” I was cut off by the phone ringing. Mitch! It had to be him. I grabbed the handset and punched the Talk button. “Hello? Mitch?”

The voice on the other end was one I didn’t recognize. A woman, she sounded professional, and yet there was something about her voice that scared me. “Am I speaking to Siobhan Morgan?”

“Yes… Who’s calling?” Suspicion suddenly hit me in the gut. What if she was working with Terry; what if—

“My name is Amanda Bernard and I’m a nurse with InterLake Hospital. I’m calling about a Mr. Mitchell Childs. Do you know him?”

Hospital? Mitch? Oh hell.

“He’s my fiancé. We live together. What’s wrong? Is he okay?” Panic replaced suspicion and I stiffened, trying not to cry. The hormones from being pregnant sure weren’t helping me to remain calm.

“Mr. Childs has been injured. We need you to come in and give us information on his medical background. He seems to be part of the Supernatural Community. We have an Otherworld healer on hand—an elfin doctor—but we can use any background information you can give us. He needs treatment now.”

“He’s a selkie. Tell the doctor that. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Choking back tears, I added, “Is he… Is the injury serious? What can you tell me?”

Her voice was soft as she said, “You should be prepared. He’s been extensively injured. I won’t mince words, Ms. Morgan. He’s in serious condition, though we aren’t sure as to just what extent. He’s unconscious at the moment. We found your name in his wallet as his emergency contact.”

I hung up, a searing heat racing through me. The man I was in love with was lying in the hospital and I had the horrible feeling that it hadn’t been an accident. I turned mutely to Camille and Delilah.

Camille turned off the stove. “I’ll take you to the hospital. Delilah, you stay here and wait for Tim.” She held up my jacket and I silently let her tuck me into it; then she gathered up my purse and pushed me gently out the door.

“Where is he?”

“InterLake Hospital,” I said, trying to find my voice.

She slid me into the passenger seat of her Lexus and I fumbled for the seat belt as she jumped in the driver’s seat. “Breathe, Siobhan. He’s alive, and he’s under medical care. I want you to get my cell phone out of my purse and look for Chase Johnson’s number under my contact list. Tell him you’re with me, and who you are, and ask him to bring Sharah and meet us at the hospital.”

I followed directions, mouthing the words, hearing Chase’s concerned voice on the other end, and then hung up. Camille didn’t say anything else; she just focused on navigating through the heavy rain while I stared out the window, remembering the first time I realized I had fallen in love with Mitch Childs.

3

It was 1998, and I’d integrated myself into the Puget Sound Harbor Seal Pod. They’d accepted me as a member, with my slightly altered résumé, and I once again sank into the comfort of belonging to a tribe. It had been eighty-one years since I’d had a group to call my own, and over those intervening years, I’d worked my way down one coastline and up the other, alone and lonely.

I’d adapted as my new land grew and evolved. I’d been everything from a maid during my first few years, to a candy-and-cigarette girl at a nightclub during the war, to an admin assistant at a law firm during the sixties, to a yoga teacher during the eighties.

But I’d never applied for any job that would place me too much in the public view, and while I returned to my real name after a while, I’d managed to navigate the underground labyrinth of changing licenses and social security numbers. I flew under the radar because, like all Fae and Weres, I aged more slowly than humans. It wasn’t wise to let yourself be high profile. People would start with whispers; then came the rumors. Hair dye could take care of the hair, but until recently, Botox and plastic surgery weren’t viable options to explain away the smooth skin and clear eyes.