Hæra smacked her palm against the window, welcoming the sting and the coolness of the glass. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be some other way. Sister Madeleine was supposed to return to Jorsay as the nun she’d been before. She and Hæra were meant to meet, have some sort of instant understanding, and talk. Then, Hæra would eat her, return to the sea, and become a Stormhorse. Simplicity itself.

Becoming a human was much less simple than being an Each-uisge. Hæra couldn’t figure out how…

Hæra wasn’t becoming a human.

She recoiled from the window as the obscene idea crawled over her mind like a roach. Becoming human? Where had that come from? Ridiculous. She wore a human form around herself like a rough oyster shell hiding a pearl. Hadn’t Jonathan just pointed out how inhuman she was? He’d know better than anyone.

Human! Why? Because she’d drunk wine and learned to read books? Because of her flimsy trappings, was she thinking of herself as one of them, weak and pathetic as they were? What was next? Starting a collection of useless objects, or whinging about Parliament, or the other pointless ways they spent their short time in the world?

This was going too far, too fast. Within the span of a few days, since Madeleine’s reappearance, Hæra’s life had spun more out of control than ever. And that was saying something. If thoughts like these were occurring to her, that had to be a sign. Of what, she didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good.

Hæra stormed to her bureau. She yanked open the top drawer and dragged out the wooden rosary she’d pulled from Madeleine’s drenched body on the beach.

For years, Hæra had treasured it as a reminder of what they had together. Now, it was just another symbol of something that separated them: something Hæra couldn’t understand but that was so important to Madeleine that it made her run from an all-consuming kiss.

Maybe she should march over to Madeleine’s hotel right now, wake her, and confess everything. That would show exactly how inhuman she was. Then she’d do what she had to do, return to the sea, and never have to face Jonathan’s disappointment and anger.

She could persuade Madeleine to leave the hotel. Go for a walk out of sight. Transform into her true shape. She hadn’t done that since she’d come to live on land. That must be part of the problem. She’d forgotten what it was like to be herself.

She would transform and watch Madeleine’s eyes widen with horror as she beheld the monster she would believe Hæra to be.