She nodded, but something unflattering stabbed at her from within those statements. “Thus the ‘no strings attached,’ I guess.”
“Right. Wouldn’t be my first choice, but it’s what I’m stuck with. I haven’t wanted to saddle anyone with my issues.” He kept his hands deep in his pockets. His gaze followed the ripples of wind across the water.
“But if someone actually knew, and was willing to help…”
He smiled, glancing at her for a moment. “Yeah. This is new. I hardly know what to think.”
She smiled too, though anxiety still swirled around her like the incoming storm. “I know this was supposed to be casual, and I can do casual, but…well, let’s just say I’m open to more.” His clear brown eyes met hers, keen with interest. She shoved a loose curl back under her hat. “I mean, assuming we live through this, and all.”
“I’ve been hoping you’d say that,” he said, with gentle surprise. “I’ve been hating to think I’d have to let go of you too. You’re the first I’ve…” He seemed to get shy, and huffed a laugh, looking away. “The first for a lot of things. I’m definitely open to more too, assuming you can still stand the sight of me after whatever it is we have to go through.”
“Which I wish we knew.”
“Maybe it’s better not to know.”
Livy was about to argue with that when something white flicked across her vision. She lifted her face. A tiny, cold spark hit her cheek, then another on her eyebrow, and her lips. She held out her arm. Even in the deepening twilight, she easily spotted the white specks of snowflakes on the dark green of her coat sleeve.
“Hey,” she said. “Snowing.”
Kit tipped his head back. “Huh. So it is.”
The wind gusted and the flakes thickened, cascading down past trees and cabins. Livy breathed in the smell of snow, as pure and cold as if the wind had traveled straight here from the peaks of the Olympic Mountains. “Skye and I should go soon. The bridge will be getting slippery.”
“You guys could stay the night.” Kit kept gazing up into the storm. “If you want.”
Livy considered it. Snowflakes pattered down around her nose and ears. “True. We’re not right up against the national forest over here. Got some water between us and them. Might even be safer.”
“Could buy us a night.”
“I’m betting Skye and Grady won’t mind sharing a bed.”
Kit smirked.
“Hey.” Livy stepped up to him, tilted her head, and kissed him.
He caught the front of her coat to pull her closer. After a long kiss, he slid both arms around her and lowered his head to sigh against her neck. She settled her chin on his shoulder and stood holding him, watching snow collect on the beach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
SKYE AWOKE. THE ROOM LOOKED LIGHTER THAN IT SHOULD HAVE FOR THE MIDDLE OF A WINTER NIGHT. SHE PEELED away from Grady’s sleeping warmth, and tiptoed to the front window of the cabin, shivering in her bare feet and T-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts borrowed from Grady. She caught her breath at the beauty outside. Everything glowed a magical subdued white. Three or four inches of snow muffled every surface except the dark expanse of water and the undersides of tree branches. The clouds lay thick overhead, reflecting the town’s lights.
The soft breaths of her three companions rustled through the cabin, from Kit and Livy up in the loft and Grady on the sofa-bed. She registered their company, but couldn’t pull her eyes from the transformed landscape outside. She longed to be out in it, the way she always would feel when waking up to a beautiful snowfall, but stronger now. More feral.
Something gave way inside her. The scrap of humanity she’d been clinging to now seemed about as inconsequential as a dead leaf. She relaxed her grip and let it fall.
Though not dressed for winter, she eased back Kit’s deadbolt and turned the doorknob. It squeaked as the door scraped against its frame, and she paused, her heart beating fast. The slumbering breaths of the other three didn’t alter.
Skye stepped out and shut the door gently. She gasped at the shock of the snow against her bare soles. Shuddering, arms around herself, she walked forward. Tiny snowflakes brushed her cheeks and lashes, like kisses. From the deck she stepped down onto the snow-topped gravel, and padded across it until she stood in the shadows under one of the largest trees, an alder between Kit’s property and the neighbor’s.
“I’m ready,” she whispered upward.
She said it so quietly. They must have been waiting, for they responded at once.
“Skyyyye. Daaaarling.”
As if the snow was made of white clay, it curled up into spiral shapes on either side of a path leading between the trees. Teeth chattering, she walked down it. When she looked over her shoulder a few seconds later, Kit’s cabin and all the others on the island were gone.
Redring and a dozen more goblins crawled headfirst down the tree trunks. They didn’t bother morphing into human form this time. Instead Redring reached out her twiggy fingers, a tiny round berry held between finger and thumb. “Warm up, my dear.”
Skye opened her mouth and accepted the berry. It tasted like a black huckleberry, on the moldy side, but nowhere near as revolting as the fruit tarts from that first night. As soon as she swallowed it, warmth spread through her body, reviving the blood flow in her bare toes and fingers. In relief, she looked down at her feet, flush with warmth and wiggling unconcernedly in the snow. She felt like she was submerged in a pool of perfect temperature.
“Welcome,” Redring said. “We are so glad. Shall we, new friend?”
Skye looked around at the goblins. Their faces now seemed more diverse from one another, livelier, friendlier. Her tribe.
She tried to remember her old tribe: her sister, mother, friends… sadness tugged at the back of her mind. Those memories were fuzzy, and she shoved away the sadness. She’d had enough of it.
She smiled at Redring. Smiled. God, how good it felt. “Yes. How do we get off the island?”
They cackled.
“Oh, that is easy.” Redring stretched out her arms, which lengthened and became wide, dark wings. A heron’s beak grew on her face, and her legs became skinnier, her toes elongating into bird talons. Five of the other goblins changed too, until a group of extra-large blue herons hopped about in the snow. “When we are done with you two tonight,” Redring added, her voice now croaking like a heron’s, “you will be able to do this, as well.”
You two. “My mate will come?” Already his human name seemed insignificant, nothing worth remembering. He’d have a new one soon. They both would.
“How could he resist, sweet one?”
Skye lifted her chin and repeated the vow: “I’m ready.”