Fins 4 Ur Sins (23 page)

His gaze runs over my face, his
eyes shifting colour again, turning whiskey-orange with a dark brown ring. His
lashes are midnight black and too long. Around twenty-six or thereabouts, but I
may be wrong, seeing how he’s finfolk. He’s incredibly handsome and grins
suddenly as though realising I’ve just noticed. He shifts his compelling gaze
to the crowd behind me.

“Yes, a rabbit. White hair,
small, vulnerable, apt to be frightened—everyone here will soon figure out who
you are. Think about what I’ve said. You could hold answers for all of us. If
the sirens get to you before we can—”

I do the unthinkable. I jab my
finger into his chest.
Hard.
“You’re mistaken. I’m
going to be sick. Don’t talk about taking my blood. I’m not scared of you. What
you see is plain
ol
’ disgust. I-I have to get through
today,” my voice breaks and tears brim in my eyes again, but I raise my chin
defiantly, “and that’s what I’m going to do. I can’t think about anything else
right now.”

He nods, but his lips press
together in disapproval. I must have surprised him into silence. An amicable
smile forms across his lips, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes.

I walk back to the crowd near the
building.

“So, that’s a no?”

I close my eyes, halt two paces
away and clench my fists, nails sharp in my palms. “Don’t give up do you?” I
snap and open my eyes.

Dry leaves crunch at his
approach. “Not when it’s something this important,” he whispers in my ear and
then his gaze meets mine before he passes by in a waft of scent that’s
heart-breaking familiar.
Slightly salty and fresh.
My
shoulders droop. That scent reminds me of Lakyn.

For a moment, who I am separates
into two different personalities. One who lives on land, dresses like a
teenager, has legs, while the other . . . is from another realm altogether.
Bigger and more than I ever dared to dream I could be.

Five or so other people stare at me,
but at my dismissive wave, they look away. I suppress a sigh and follow in
Richard’s footsteps to the now open door. A huge plasma screen dominates the
far right side of the wall, and the funeral director stands at the podium
dressed in smart casual attire. Low, soothing classical music pipes in the
background, and people talk, then shake hands. I can’t see Lakyn anywhere, so I
sit down at the back, trying to avoid people who might have more questions.

I open the little booklet and
read through the messages. Once everyone takes a seat, the director begins the
service by reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

Lakyn waits at the wings. My
heart leaps into life, and I can’t help the way my knees tremble at the sight
of him. As if he knows I’m looking directly at him, his gaze catches mine, and
even across the distance, he stiffens.

I don’t look away. Everything
else seems to fade away as I study the gelled perfection of his dirty blonde
hair, the black suit, his hands clenching. He suddenly jerks at the collar,
running his fingers under the fabric to give his throat some space. I look at
his shoes.
Vans.

A small smile creases my face and
I lean back in my chair. The other men from the hostel soon join him, standing
to one side of the room. They wheel in a projector and a presentation of
Ralph’s life plays on the screen. The men from the hostel move to fill up the
first row of seats on the right so I can see their backs.

I bring my hands up to either
side of my face as I watch, fingers trembling. Though my eyes are wet, I’m not
a complete mess. I view Ralph’s laughing face, his witty quips on the screen,
and I wipe away the tears, wanting to celebrate his life.

He says things on the screen that
have me choking back a muffled laugh, remembering him squishing his cap, video footage
of him on his boat with the wind pushing at the waves, sharing a few drinks
with the guys from the hostel.

And then finally, Ralph sits by
himself, looking out to the sea, his face angled toward the sun as it dies
fire-orange behind the horizon. The film goes to a white screen and then black.

Lakyn strides to the podium. His
hands fist, and he stands there, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing comes
out. A few deep breaths later, he manages, “Ralph was like a father to me
here.” His face screws up and he brushes away tears with the back of his hand.
“When I first arrived at the hostel, I had no family, no one wanted to take me
in. But Ralph gave me hope, a place and that’s something I believe he offered
everyone he met. He’d put every single person . . .” Lakyn pauses, breathes,
“into his heart, and though he had a tough exterior,” everyone chuckles in
remembrance, “you would never find a man with a greater sense of family,
especially for those who weren’t his blood. The lengths he would go to for his
hand-picked family were unlimited. In fact, it’s because of him I can now count
these men as my family.” Lakyn’s gaze drops to the men in the front row and he
struggles for composure, tears reddening his face.

“Ralph led a great life,
experienced many things most of us can only dream about, the highs and the
lows. I hope he finds the peace he deserves.” Lakyn chokes on tears and then
turns away with hunched shoulders. He walks toward the others, sitting in the
front row beside Joey.

Joey wraps his arm around Lakyn’s
shoulder and draws him in for a hug.

Family.
Yeah, I know the feeling of losing a father. If Ralph’s been taken by the
sirens, it also means his soul is lost.

How can I help set it free? I
curl my knuckles against my cheek, leaning on my elbow, allowing the tears to
fall. I try to blow my nose quietly and swallow the lump in my throat. The
service finishes after three more prayers, another two speakers from the hostel
and a song sung by a woman who is definitely finfolk turned human. The pitch of
her voice reminds me of the sirens.
A clear, high tone
sparking emotion deep inside my heart.

The funeral director takes back
control of the podium. “Refreshments will be served in the room next door.
Please take your time and pay your respects if you’d like.” He gestures to the
dark mahogany coffin front and centre in the room, though it’s a closed casket.

I rise, stomach feeling like lead
and heart aching. The sunlight glares outside the door, and my knees shake so
badly, I wobble on the wedges. I move along the grass, in long, unsteady
strides and my head swims. “Bye, Ralph,” I whisper, looking up at the green
field, to the huge gum trees and plethora of graves. I muffle another sob and
wipe my face.

I smell the men before I see
them. The salty intense wash comes with the breeze. One stands on either side
of me, and if they catch me while I’m across the field that means I’ll have no
one to turn to. I stop and stand my ground, left hand on my hip, wind tousling
my hair.

“Eloise Mitchell?” the guy on the
right calls and casts a look at the other man closing in, quickening his pace
in a bid to outrace him.

“Yes.” I frown open-mouthed at
both of them, my gaze flicking back and forth. Then they both break out into a
run and bum-rush me at the last second, almost knocking me down in their
eagerness to grab my arms.

“Hey, stop it. What are you
doing?” I growl, and try to shake them off, twisting my arms. “Let go!” They
both babble about sirens, making absolutely no sense. I look around for help
and catch sight of Richard. Though I want Lakyn, anyone remotely sane will do.

“Richard!”

He whirls at my call, glances at
the two men, shakes his head and then approaches in long strides. “Having
trouble, Eloise?”

“Your observational skills are
shockingly good,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“Excellent,
even.”

He laughs. “I guess they want you
for the same reason I do.
Nothing unusual about that.”
He makes a gesture behind him to a beautiful brunette near the building. She
slinks toward him in towering black heels, and he slips an arm around her
waist, kissing her temple. “Meet my fiancée, Clara.”

“Nice to meet
you.”
I nod obligingly, and then glare at him. “Now, a little
help
, please?” I’ve been able to ignore what the men were
saying to me thus far, but now their tight grip and pleading voices make my
heart pound with panic. “They want me to transform them.”

He sighs. “You don’t understand
how important this is to us. You’ll have to listen to them first. I want to go
back to being finfolk and so does my fiancée. These men most likely have family
they left behind.”

The one to my left barks out, his
breath hot against my cheek, “Yes, yes tell her Richard. You can help us
transform,” he says to me in desperation. “You’re our best hope. No one else
has ever been so lucky. Maybe your—”

“Stop.”
Steel enters my tone. “One more word out of you, or him, and I’ll be calling
the police. Let go of my arm right now, both of you.”

When they finally do as I
request, I rub my arms, my eyes narrowing on them.

“This isn’t police business,”
Richard says, but even he looks nervous when three more men appear out of
nowhere and join our little group. I try to move away from them all, but they
are adept at steering me like a trapped fish. Richard sweeps us all to the far
side of the graveyard. The lawn is thick and green, and the leaves on the trees
rustle in the breeze as I consider escape routes.

“Now,” he begins, “We all want
Eloise’s help—”

An arm snakes around my waist and
yanks me hard off my feet and back against a rigid chest.

“What is everyone doing here?
Eloise’s help with what?”
Lakyn growls over my shoulder, his
breath warm and soft across my ear. I sink with a sigh of relief into the
protective circle of his arm.
“Ellie?”

“They’re
hassling
me,” I say quietly.

Richard’s gaze catches mine in a
hard stare.

“OK, Richard was about to start
helping.
Maybe.”
I relent. “That is after asking me to
help turn him and his fiancée back into finfolk and wanting my blood to
experiment on. He wants to get me before the sirens do, see? The other two—I’ve
forgotten their names, they grabbed me and wouldn’t let go—and those three just
appeared. I figured Richard should help me in exchange for—”

“Her blood?”
Lakyn pushes me behind him, his voice cold and cutting.
Absolutely
deadly.
“You.
Want.
Her
blood?”
His nostrils flare, and knuckles crack as his tone rises on the
last word. His body fully shields me against them.

“We believe her blood may assist
us in the change,” Richard snarls, violence in his tone. He stalks forward,
almost nose to nose with Lakyn. “Experiments may—”

“You’re that keen to die.” A
block of dry ice held more warmth than Lakyn’s voice. “Touch her,” he wraps a
hand around my waist and glares at the men who grabbed me, then at Richard, “or
pester her again and you will. I promise. You know who I am. You know who she
is.”

They stand there in stunned
silence until Lakyn drags me away and mutters in my ear, “I warned you not to
come, didn’t I? Don’t you ever listen to what is good for you?”

“It was a really moving service,”
I say. “Ralph looked happy in the film.”

Lakyn’s face softens, and the
hard planes shift, throwing off some of his anger. “Yes.” He exhales a hard
breath and rubs a hand through his hair. “We tried our best with the amount of
time we had. I thought they were hurting you,” he bursts out and glares back at
the men again, but they’re too far away to see the expression. “The look on
your face  . . .” He studies the people around us, pulling me tighter
against him and moving away a secluded spot under the gum trees. “How did you
get here?”

“Bus.” The scent of his salty
musk twines around me, making my poor heart gallop with joy. I lean into him
and breathe deeply, rubbing my cheek against the fine wool of his suit. I
whisper, “I missed you.”

He runs a caressing hand through
my hair, and I almost purr at the sensation. “I’ll take you back home.” He
moves back, and his gaze sweeps over my outfit, his pupils expanding and a
small smile plays across his lips. “You shouldn’t be let out on your own in
that dress.”

His last parting words at the
hostel play on my mind and I decide to take a stand. “Lakyn, I can get home by
myself.”

“Of course, though you’ll never
have a moment’s peace if you’re followed. They’ll figure out where you live.
They want to turn back into finfolk.”

“And I was supposed to figure out
that’s why you didn’t want me to come?” I ask angrily.
“To
avoid them?
What do I look like, a mind reader? I thought you didn’t
want anything to do with me ever again.”

“It won’t work, anyway.”

I look at him, confused.

“Them using you,” he explains.

“I know,” I say coolly.

He drops his arm and stiffens. “I
see.” His eyes are alive with trepidation, moving over my face, taking in my
features as though afraid I really do understand.

I smirk up at him and toss back
my hair. “So yes, it’s useless them asking me. But they still seem to believe
they can grab me all they like.” I rub at my arms. “Rather bad manners if you
ask me. Are all finfolk like that?”

“I’m sorry.” He stands stock
still, releases me but a hint of satisfaction shines in his eyes. “No one else
has figured it out.”

“You have.” My reply is bullet
swift.

Confirmation must bother him, and
the air grows tense between us. “Stay by my side. We’ll eat and then leave,” he
whispers into my ear. “By the way, did I say how much I love your dress?”

A silly grin twitches at my lips
and heat moves up my cheeks. I should be angry as all hell for what he’s put me
through the last few days. But when my dad died, I fell to pieces, so maybe I
can forgive Lakyn, because, well, his reactions make him human. “Does this mean
we’re friends again? Since you’re not throwing me out?”