Something was different. It started with the tension easing from Linc’s shoulders, his fingers unclenching, and his jaw relaxing. He hadn’t felt the pain in his body ebb in fifteen years. He was perpetually ready to fight. As the hurt drained away, a hum filled his body, and the voice he’d never thought to hear again pounded in his brain. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
She was coming.
Linc swam toward shore, his body diving through waves, catching the current and riding it to land. He crept onto the beach, grateful for the cloudy night and the mere sliver of moon in the sky. Once, he’d been able to morph and hide the scales on his body, but not anymore. They were ever-present. He no longer bothered to cover himself in human clothing. He was more Aegean than human now.
She wouldn’t recognize him.
Her presence built in his mind, like the sunrise. She was just a small shaft of light pouring into him until she was everywhere, flooding him.
Edie?
The name slipped out of him, and he felt her startle before her aura grew brighter and warmer. Linc? A moment later, where are you?
He hesitated, and she felt it. He felt her frustration and growing irritation. Amusement flowed through him, and her irritation spiked. Stop being a jerk, and tell me where you are! she demanded.
He grew serious quickly. Where you left me.
A sigh crossed the distance between him, tinged with regret and guilt. I’m sorry, Linc.
No, Edie. Linc answered quickly. It was what I wanted.
A question seemed to float to him, unformed, but he interpreted it. Do you want me to leave you alone?
NO! he replied. Everything inside him wanted her return. No, he repeated. Never.
Linc hurried to the marshes, Edythe’s presence a constant in his mind. He waded into the water and then stopped. What would he tell her about his form? What if he scared her?
He’d grown so used to being alone, he was shocked when she answered him. You could never scare me, you big dope. And if you look different, who cares? I do, too.
Her voice was friendly and teasing. There was still a hint of her younger self in her words, in her spike of annoyance, but there was another note. She sounded more mature and a little weary. The Edythe coming to him tonight would be a woman.
He heard her slogging through the marsh but held back. She was tired; he could feel how her muscles burned and her frustration because she never worked out. Linc laughed.
Chuckle all you want. This water is deep to short people like me.
Her description of her body urged him forward. He had to see her, had to have his eyes on her again. With much more alacrity, he hurried toward her. He didn’t bother with being silent, he was just as noisy as she was.
“Where are you?”
And then there she was. The same Edythe, grown up, but still short.
She snorted. “Nice.”
She was beautiful.
She snorted again. “Better.”
Linc stepped forward, out of the tall grass and saw the moment she recognized him. At first she was confused, and his heart sank. But in the next second, all doubts swept away. Her face split into a grin, and she took one giant step toward him. She caught her foot on a weed and fell face first into the water. For the first time ever, he laughed—out loud. The look Edythe gave him when her face lifted out of the water was part mortification and part resignation.
He was there in a heartbeat, lifting her out of the water and pushing her hair back from her heart-shaped face. He loved her little pointed chin, and the way her mouth bowed, the lower lip pouting.
“Hi.” She held tight to his hands. Every pain, every ache Linc had felt for fifteen years was forgotten.
“Hello, Edie,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “You can talk?”
He nodded. “This is the first time I’ve ever spoken aloud.”
Her head canted to the side, the water rolling down her face and dripping off the tip of her nose. He swiped it with his fingers and stopped. He was used to seeing his hands covered in glossy, black scales, but the hand touching Edythe’s skin was smooth and pink: flesh.
“What is happening?” she asked, sensing his confusion and disbelief.
“I don’t know,” he answered, honestly. “I think it’s you.”
She narrowed her eyes, taking one hand out of his and skimming it down his shoulder and arm. “You’re different.”
“I was afraid I’d frighten you.”
There was the snort again. “Hardly.”