She was alone, and nobody could give her any answers—tell her if Hæra was safe, or what had happened between Asgall and Jonathan, or what in the world Madeleine was supposed to do now. Go to the village? Summon the police? She’d have to think of some way to explain this.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. Connor said everyone suspected Hæra was different, even if they didn’t know exactly how. They might not be surprised at all.

Madeleine swept the flashlight over Jonathan and Asgall again. High tide was rolling in. She had to move them or they’d be submerged. She’d never manage to carry them up the stairs to the seawall, but at least she could drag them farther up the beach before she went for help. The villagers could figure out what to do with them while Madeleine searched for Hæra.

She crouched and set the flashlight down. As she did, she saw two long, parallel furrows in the sand, next to a series of footprints. The incoming tide was washing them away.

Madeleine stared at the furrows. They led from the ocean to Jonathan’s feet. Jonathan’s pants were wet up to his waist, and drying sand crusted the fabric. He’d been in the water, obviously—but now he and Asgall lay on the sand, and there were furrows and footprints heading toward land, not away⁠—

Jonathan’s face was pale and gray. Think of your heart, Hæra had growled at him many times over meals while he’d waved her off.

No wounds. In the water up to the waist. Furrows in the sand. Asgall clutched him with a look of agony.

He had been dragging Jonathan ashore, not under the waves. Then he’d collapsed from his own wounds. Or something else, maybe a force more powerful than blood.

A cry escaped her, impossible to stop. She clapped her hands over her face to block out the sight of them. Had Asgall experienced a revelation here, while Madeleine was doing the same by the standing stones? Had he realized, like Hæra, that he couldn’t kill his chosen human—and tried to save him, at the last? If so, it had been too late. Now, after decades of suffering, he and Jonathan were both lost.

This couldn’t be how Madeleine and Hæra’s story ended. She wouldn’t let it. She’d learned too much. Where was Hæra? Had she been involved in this somehow? Madeleine needed answers. She needed Hæra. She’d come so far. It couldn’t end here.

A wave crashed on the shore. It sounded the same as all the other waves, and Madeleine would never be sure why it made her look up. She turned the flashlight on it.

From the foam and dark water, an Each-uisge emerged.

“Hæra?” Madeleine whispered, but she already knew better.