The first rays of the sun shone across the rooftops of Afton-by-the-Sea when Pearl ascended the stairs with a tray of morning tea for Miss Agatha. She kept everything balanced with practiced skill as she opened the door and stole softly inside. It wouldn't do to wake the young woman before the curtains had been drawn.
"Oh!"
Pearl stiffened and the tray jostled as she nearly collided with someone in the room. The maid hastily set the tray on the nearby table and in three long strides, crossed the room to fling open the curtains.
Miss Agatha herself stood in the middle of the floor, almost completely dressed. Pearl stared at her with wide eyes.
"Madam!"
Agatha clutched at her skirt with nervous hands. "Oh, please don't tell Mother, Pearl!"
"But—b-b-but Madam!"
"Fetch my hat and coat, would you, dear?" Agatha wouldn't look at her maid, choosing instead to sit on the lounge at the foot of the bed and lace up her own boots. "I can't be seen, not today. I want to be gone by the time everyone is awake." She stood and smoothed her skirt and paused at the vanity to adjust her hair. "Did you get the basket already?"
Pearl nodded numbly as she still tried to comprehend how Miss Agatha could have gotten herself out of bed in a darkened room. "It's ready as ever ma'am—but... Shouldn't you at least take breakfast before you go?"
The young woman paused her toilette to shake her head. "The Martins are coming for tea; if Mother sees me at any point this morning, she won't let me out of her sight. I'll buy something at the cafe in town." She grabbed the clutch that coordinated with her dress and waved the maid away.
Pearl bustled into the hallway and down the stairs. By the time she emerged from the kitchen with the wicker basket over one arm, and Agatha's hat and coat over the other, the woman herself stood at the door leading to the yard at the back of the house.
Agatha took the hat and coat first, then accepted the basket.
Pearl trembled all over. "Ma'am," she said quietly, "are you sure this is right? Seeing a strange man outside the knowledge of the Lord and Lady?"
Agatha hesitated with her hand on the door. "What Mother and Father want for me, I could never accept!" She said, turning to meet Pearl's gaze. "Celian, he—oh Pearl! He is so much more than any of the eligible bachelors wandering around in their fancy cars and their gambling debts, looking for a debutante to take as a trophy wife. He actually cares for me, he cares enough to listen, and he accepts my side of things. No other man has ever given me that, and it has inspired me to continue improving myself, more than all those years in finishing schools." She smiled as she thought of him.
"But," Pearl observed, "you have spoken of his parentage."
Agatha nodded. "That is why I haven't spoken to Mother and Father yet. They would never allow me to marry a poor, penniless orphan." She sighed. "I often wonder, though..." her voice trailed off as the floorboards overhead creaked. Agatha tensed as she and Pearl glanced upward.
"I have to go," Agatha whispered, and she turned to follow the path to the gate in the hedgerow.
Pearl sighed and closed the door, locking it, and returned into the house to retrieve the tea tray.
On her way back to the stairs, a moving shadow caught the corner of her eye. Pearl froze and focused at the area, but the hallway stood dark and empty. She shook her head and continued to the kitchen.
A footstep behind her caused her to whirl around with a yelp, but it was only Charlie, yawning and rubbing his face as if he had just awakened. He stopped and blinked at the fair maid.
"What are you doing?" He said blearily.
Pearl turned back to the tray. "Getting the tea," she answered. "What are you doing?"
Charlie snorted and continued through the door. "My job!" He muttered over his shoulder.
Pearl shook her head. Charlie was as much a servant to Master Thomas as she was to Miss Agatha—surely he didn't have all those bothersome secrets to keep!
Across the lane, near the edge of the dunes overshadowing the beach, Celian stood on the ground in front of the porch of the little cottage. The wind whipped through his lanky hair, and blew the short sleeves of his shirt open, revealing a slight glimpse of the tattoo on his shoulder that the Groves had come to accept as the symbol of his Leonie form. As long as he took other forms, the same symbol appeared somewhere on his body.
Dr. Ashley approached behind him. The sun rose over the roof of the cottage, warming the tops of their heads.
"You're up early," Ash mused, by way of informing Celian of his presence.
The lanky man didn't flinch.
"I'm going to ask her."
Ash let the significance weigh on the silence. "Are you sure?"
Celian sighed and nodded without taking his eyes off the rolling surf in the distance. "I am ready. I will ask her permission, and she will bring me to the house because I must ask permission of her parents." His mouth shut firmly, his jaw squarely set.
"And then?" Ashley asked, feeling very much like a father figure to the grown man who wasn't naturally a person at all.
Celian shrugged. "What will happen, will happen."
The doctor sighed. "What if they refuse? What if Agatha refuses? You've only known each other for a week, at the least."
Celian's lips tightened, and his throat flinched. "What happens," he repeated firmly, "will happen. I have known her for much longer than she has known me. I will tell her the truth. If she refuses me, I will... make my return to the sea." His steady gaze finally broke, and he glanced down to his hand, as if recalling the smaller one so constantly tucked there.
Ash laid a comforting hand on Celian's arm. "You'll come by to see us first, if that happens?" He queried. "To say goodbye?"
Celian looked back toward the beach and nodded. "I will." He squinted up to the sky and stepped away from the cottage.
"Celian!" Ash called after him.
Celian stopped. "Yes, Dr. Grove?" He replied over his shoulder.
"Just..." Ash took a moment to find the words. "If you ever need anything, you know I will not hesitate to help you in any way I can."
Celian nodded. "I know," he said. With a heavy sigh, the slender man lumbered off to meet his friend.
Agatha arrived on the beach and found it mostly empty. The wind tossed the waves and pulled at her hair and clothes, but she clamped a hand firmly on her hat and set about searching the crags and shoreline for Celian. She could usually find him near the water, even on brisk days like today.
Finally, she spotted his long, lean form, watching the waves in his usual, pensive manner. Agatha increased her pace, and finally her fluttering scarf caught his attention. Their eyes met, and Agatha thrust her hand in the air to wave at him.
Celian pulled his massive feet out of the sand to close the distance she had to travel. Well he did, because not five paces from him, her next step sank deeper than she expected, and Agatha flailed as she stumbled forward.
Huge hands gently swept under her elbows, and Celian supported her till she could regain her balance. When she could stand securely, he moved to release her, but Agatha gave in to the impulse and threw her arms around his waist. She felt him tense at the unexpected gesture, but his hands rested gently behind her back as he returned the embrace.
His tall, looming frame blocked much of the wind. Agatha looked up into his face.
"Hello," she said. "It's good to see you."
Celian smiled—really smiled—at her, and nodded.
"It is good to see you, too," he said. "Are you well?"
Agatha nodded automatically. "Fine, thanks—" But as soon as she spoke, she caught herself. She slid her hand into his huge palm, showing him the basket to indicate her intention. "Shall we find shelter and dine while we talk about it?"
Celian nodded and held her hand. "Of course. There is a cove in the cliffs, shielded from the wind."
Celian led her to a place down the strand, where a small stream cut away from the surf and up toward the land. Around behind some tall stones, the noise and the crash diminished, and she could find a firm, flat place to spread the blanket.
Once they had settled, Agatha gave a little gasp in preparation to continue their conversation, but she couldn't find the words.
Celian held the petite lunch plate cradled in his palm, but he only picked absently at the sandwiches. She could feel his eyes examining her closely.
"Agatha," he murmured softly. "What is wrong?"
The young heiress of Dalton House heaved a deep sigh. "I am not well!" She admitted. "Not at all! My parents want me to marry someone with title, or at the very least with money, and I haven't told them about you yet, even though you are quite possibly the most genuine man I have ever met, or ever will meet!"
She saw his face twist, but whether it was a grin or a grimace, she couldn't tell before it fell back into his pensive stare. "Agatha—" he tried to speak up, but she wasn't finished.
"What is more, I've just discovered that this is the last time we will ever come to Afton-by-the-Sea. We'll be selling Dalton House once we leave on Saturday, and once we're gone—" she met his gaze at last, "we will never return here again." There was real pain and concern in his eyes, and it both excited and calmed her to see it. Agatha leaned against his shoulder, cradling his arm in her own. "I just feel that, now that I've met you, I cannot bear the idea of returning to my normal, boring life without you in it!"
Celian slipped his hand under hers, stroking it with long, gentle fingers. "Agatha," he whispered softly. "I must tell you—"
The loud voice shattered the intimate moment.
"I've caught you!"
Agatha jerked straight and frantically threw her plate into the basket, as if that would help the situation any. Thomas Dalton walked straight up to the cove from further down the beach, his eyes fixed on his sister. Those eyes grew wide when Celian stood, his head almost reaching the top of the rocks sheltering them. Thomas stopped short, but jabbed an accusing finger at him.
"You! You're the one who's been sneaking around with my sister?"
Agatha stepped between them, still clinging to Celian's hand. "Thomas," she struggled to keep her voice calm, "it's not like that. We aren't sneaking—"
"What else would you call it?" Thomas demanded. "Leaving the house without telling anyone—"
"Pearl knows!"
"Pearl?" He spat. "Since when do we have to go to a maid for information? You and your high and mighty words, telling mother you're too good for that Jacob Martin—" He finally inched close enough to grab Agatha's free wrist. "You're in such big trouble! Just wait till Father finds out!"
Agatha struggled against her brother's grip. He was younger, but he also had her at a disadvantage, with her heeled boots finding less purchase in the softer sand. "Thomas, let me explain! Celian—" as she said his name, she glanced back at him.
Celian stood transfixed, seemingly unaware of Agatha's absence.
"Oy! You!" Thomas yanked his sister to the other side of the stream, heedless of the way she tripped over her skirt and went sprawling toward the sand. He hopped back over to the other side and advanced toward Celian, keeping a wary eye on the long arms and large hands. "How about you tell me who you are and what are your intentions with my sister!"
Celian blinked rapidly. His lips trembled as his voice came faintly. "My... my... Agatha—"
"Eh?" Tom advanced closer. "What's that? What do you want?" He stood well within reach, but Celian had not yet made a move toward him.
"I... I want—" Celian still stammered under his breath.
Agatha recognized the strange light in his eye, the deep grimace forming on his face.
It was the same way his face had changed before he had rampaged the general store.
"Thomas!" She warned. "Don't hurt him! Leave him alone!"
"Shut up, Aggie!" Thomas snapped. He reached out and shoved Celian, taking care to scramble back away before the tall man could react. "What's it to be, then, hey? Have you touched her?"
Celian trembled all over. Agatha saw the way his eyes darted from one end of the cove to the other, like a cornered animal looking for escape.
Still, Thomas slung handfuls of sand at him. "Oy! I'm talking to you, Lurker! DID YOU TOUCH MY SISTER?"
Celian snapped. His body bent forward and his arms snapped straight, striking Thomas squarely in the chest and sending him flying back across the sand.
"NOOO!" Celian roared, and charged past the stricken youths and out of the cove, toward the incoming tide.
Agatha finally kicked free of her boots and scrambled to her feet. She screamed "Celian, wait!" after the retreating figure, but turned to beat her brother with her fists and palms. "You brute!" She shrieked, tears mixing with the sand and sticking to her face. "You utter monster! Now look what you've done!"
The blow from Celian had knocked some sense into the lad, and now seeing his sister so furious deflated most of the vengeance he had felt.
"Leave off!" He snapped, scrambling away from her and up to his feet. "I was only trying to protect your honor!"
"Protect my honor?" Agatha snarled at him. "You bloody idiot! You know nothing about honor!"
She glanced toward the surf. Celian had reached the water, but he wasn't stopping. Deeper and deeper he waded, till the waves overtook him and she couldn't see him anymore.
Thomas tried to take her hand again. "Let's go—"
"No!" Agatha slapped him away and crossed her arms. "You go home! I will not go anywhere with you!"
"Agatha, stop this nonsense—"
"GO. HOME. THOMAS!"
There was nothing else for it. He shrugged and ambled down the beach toward the path he had used to reach that spot. "Suit yourself..." he muttered.
Alone on the beach, Agatha removed her stockings and staggered down to the edge of the water.
"Celian!" She called. "Celian come back! It's all right! Tom's gone!" Her searching eyes did not see the flash of his shirt or his slacks. The waves lapped around her bare ankles, chilling her to the bone. Her anxious eyes searched the waves for any sign of him. "Celian!"
Several minutes passed, with no sign of the man. Her heart beat in her throat. He had been under the water far too long. She could almost picture his long, lean body drifting limply below the surface. The water reached her hemline by the time she reached a decision. Resolutely, she reached up and began unfastening her collar. She made her way further up the bank to where she had left her boots. Working methodically, she removed her dress, stripping down to her chemise and drawers. Resolutely, she returned to the crashing water.
The full impact of what she was doing washed over her at the first slap of the waves against her ankles. A spray of water across her shoulders prompted Agatha to glance to the sky and hug her arms across her chest. Rain began to fall—but Celian had not returned. Agatha waded into the churning water up to her waist. Something wide and flat brushed against her knee. Agatha reached down into the water and pulled up a piece of something wide and flat.
A piece of kelp dangled from her hands. Agatha dropped it back in the water and began calling once more. "CELIAN!! CELIAN!"
The waves had nearly reached her shoulders. She lifted her feet off the sand and stretched her arms into a swimming position. She blinked against the rain as it poured harder, the thick drops plashing and soaking her further, but still she saw no sign of the strange, silent man. Despair drove her on, coupled with fury at her brother. Why had he followed her? What did he hope to gain? Would he be responsible for Celian's death?
Where was Celian?
Agatha felt like she had only been swimming for a few minutes without making headway, but when she tried to turn back, she nearly sank in the water then and there. The beach was so far away, the cliffs only made a thin line above the choppy water. She would need to start swimming back if she was going to make it at all.
Agatha only felt a slight pulling sensation under the water, and then the wave unfolded behind her, swallowing her whole head. Agatha flailed frantically to get above it, only to feel the pull again, stronger, as yet another wave followed close behind the one that had almost drowned her. The tide moved swiftly further out to sea, and Agatha had already worn out her arms with as far as she had gone. The current pulled at her ankles, and with the rolling of the third wave, Agatha pulled hard at the water, but could not regain the surface. Deeper she sank, watching the light fade as her lungs burned within her.
Sweeping her arms stalled her in place for a bit, but she didn't have enough air to coax her body upward.
The light shifted. She blinked open her eyes as a large, oblong shape with a trailing tail circled above her. She had never seen its pale likeness before, but as it loomed closer to her, she panicked. Precious air escaped her mouth as Agatha tried everything she could to both stave off the creature and reach the surface. She closed her eyes, wishing the nightmare away—and a soft, flabby tentacle curled around her arm.
Agatha's eyes flew open, though she regretted it and snapped them shut again immediately. The creature hovered right in front of her! She felt another tentacle snaked toward her waist. She used her free hand to shove hard against its soft body, and blinked again to make sure she struck it. The massive eyes on either side of the bulbous head blinked at her as the monster's grip never slacked. Agatha kicked and pulled blindly, but to no avail. The creature dragged her along with it, to some unknown destination. Its thick, pliable tentacles held her firmly as its powerful tail propelled them through the water. Agatha stopped struggling briefly, but only to gather what little strength she had for one last wrench. She stretched out her foot—
And her toes met the sand. Secure footing welcomed her as her head broke the surface and she gasped fresh air, taking in a lungful of water along with it. She coughed and spluttered, still within the clutches of the creature. Her hands scrabbled at the sand as she fought to heave her quavering body out of its flopping grasp. The tentacles slipped off easy, and the creature gave a little jerk. With bleary eyes burning in the presence of air after the salt-water bath, Agatha fancied she saw the creature's body shifting and shrinking. It still held her ankle with one tentacle, but then she noticed that the tentacle looked more like a hand. Her eyes raced up the human-like arm to the still-shifting face of the man she knew as Celian. A strange, swirling tattoo stood out blackly against his naked skin. He panted heavily as he watched her with the same eyes she had just seen on the nightmarish sea monster.
"No..." she gasped. "No!"
Celian struggled up to leaning on his elbows, his lower half still mostly buried in the sand. "Agatha—" he reached out to her, holding his hand up. "Please wait for me!" He dove back into the water, swimming the other direction down the beach, where the crashing waves reached the cliffs.
When he emerged, wearing the suit of clothes Madi Grove had left for him in the cove, Agatha had retrieved her rain-soaked, wrinkled clothes and now struggled up the dune that would deposit her onto the path back into the village.
"Agatha!" In a few long strides, Celian nearly overtook her. "Wait! I can explain!"
Agatha whirled around and lashed out with her hands when she felt the brush of his long fingers. "No!" She screamed. "Don't touch me!"
He halted, blinking at her outburst. Agatha trembled as sobs clogged her throat and tears welled in her eyes. "WHAT ARE YOU?" She howled above the still-raging storm. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!"
Celian tried to step toward her. "I will tell you. Just listen—"
"No!" With the mound of clothes as her battering ram, Agatha lunged forward and threw all her weight into a mighty shove. Celian stumbled backward, the steep slope of the dune preventing him from recovering his balance till he reached the bottom. By the time he got to the top again, Agatha had slipped into her dress and was now halfway down the lane toward Dalton House. She did not look back.