He looked around as if seeking an answer in the devastation. “Mar are what you would call sirens, or mer-people.”
She knit her brow. “You saved me from the ferry accident?”
“I did, but it’s complicated. I . . .”
“How do you live?”
“In the sea, we are deathless. But blood sustains us on land.”
“Blood?”
“Human blood. And, somehow, sharing yours has given us . . .”
She touched her neck and stared at him. “Given us what, Stellan?”
He took her face tenderly in his hands. It was only a few drops, but for us it seems it was enough to create a blood bond.
The far wall collapsed as a shock wave ripped through the basement. No more time! Stellan bundled her into his arms and took off.
Wait! The others! We have to help them. She struggled to get free.
He held her fiercely until they were out of the house. Gerald was in the street with Jeanie and the rest of the staff. He deposited Angelina there and turned to Gerald.
“Where are Mr. and Mrs. Ralston? The Blackwells?”
“I couldn’t see them. We’ll have to wait for the fire department.”
“That will be too late!” He ran back to the front door as the entire entranceway collapsed. Flames lashed out at him, forcing a retreat. Fire was not his element, and, like the sun, it could consume a Mar’s life force. He leapt to the side of the house and grabbed the base of the large bay window, tearing it from the framework with a single heave. He jumped through the gaping hole in the wall, calling for Mr. Blackwell.
The house was thick with smoke and falling plaster. It made it impossible to see farther than his hand. Heat seared him, and he fought every instinct to get away, get back to the sea. Above the crackle and roar of flames, his sensitive hearing caught screams. He followed the sound to the base of the stairs. Mr. Ralston was there, trying to lift a beam that blocked the way. He was nearly done in by the smoke. Stellan stepped up and wrenched it away, tossing the hardwood support beam as if it were a matchstick. Mr. Ralston collapsed in a fit of coughing, and Stellan, with one arm over his shoulder, raced him out the bay window and down the steps, depositing him in front of Gerald. Instantly, he ran back into the burning house.
Stellan!
Help your father. I’m getting the others.
He dashed up the stairs. The floor gave way underneath his last step, and he slipped, grabbing hold of the step as he swung in midair. Stellan dragged himself up to the hallway and ran to the doors, throwing each open until he reached Mason’s. Too hot to touch, he kicked it in. Black smoke spewed out as the fire sucked back. “Stay low! Crawl toward my voice!” he shouted.
Mason appeared, red-faced and panting, dragging himself along the carpet.
“Who else is in there?”
“No one!”
Cries rose up from the room behind him. Without another word, he threw Mason over his shoulder, raced to the stairway, and jumped to the ground floor. In a few strides, he was close enough to stand Mason up and propel him out the gaping bay window. Pausing only long enough to see that the man could walk, Stellan tore back for the two women.
They were both nearly unconscious when he found them, huddled together in the middle of the last room. The fire had traveled up the walls and across the ceiling. It creaked, and the light fixtures fell, exploding the gas lines. Using curtains to beat a path to Mrs. Ralston and Mrs. Blackwell, Stellan hauled both women up, one on each shoulder and smashed out the window as the entire floor collapsed. Coughing and choking, he staggered toward the street.
Chapter Seven
6:00 A.M.
Wednesday, April 18, 1906
ANGELINA STARED AT the gap in the wall where the bay window had been. Her hands clenched, fingers twisting into knots. An icy chill gripped her as she strained to see through the haze. When Stellan didn’t appear, tears welled.
“Look there!” Gerald shouted.
She wiped her face in time to see a figure slowly emerge from the smoke. “Stellan!” In one arm, he held up her mother. Over his shoulder was draped Mrs. Blackwell. Angelina stumbled toward him. His clothes were smoldering, his hands burnt. Gerald and the cook appeared behind her, ready to help with the injured women. For once, Mrs. Ralston had nothing to say and could only concentrate on catching her breath. Mrs. Blackwell remained unconscious, and Gerald carried her out. Angelina supported Stellan as they made their way to the curb. “You’re injured,” she said, breathless.
“I’ll be fine.”
Both women were settled into the Ralstons’ car. The window rolled down, and Angelina was barely aware of her father speaking from inside.
“Car’s full,” he said. “Traffic bottlenecked. You and the staff will make better time on foot. Get going! The whole street’s ablaze.”
“Pardon?” She turned from Stellan toward her father.
“I’ll keep her safe.” Stellan pointed toward the bay. “We should all head for the eastern ferry terminal. The city’s going up in flames.”
Mr. Ralston held his hand out to Stellan. “I don’t know who you are, young man, but when you say you can protect her, I believe you.” Angelina’s father stared unblinking as they locked hands. “Your strength . . . Your speed . . . It’s uncanny.” He shook his head to clear it. “If you can’t find us on the ferry terminal, head for Sausalito.” Just then, the family home’s roof dropped into the maw of flames. Her father cursed and rolled the window up. Gerald revved the engine, pulling out into the street.
Angelina watched them go, then encircled Stellan with her arms. “You saved everyone!” She looked up at him through fresh tears. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t come out.”
He sagged against her, his legs almost giving way.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. We must get to the ferry.” He straightened, but could only stagger forward a few steps.
“Stellan!”
“I need . . .” He coughed uncontrollably.
“Tell me what I can do!”
He leaned heavily into her. “Angelina, I need blood.”
Her eyes widened, and she touched her neck. “This will save you?”
He nodded once.
Of their own accord her fingers started to loosen the wrap. “I . . . trust you.” Slowly, she turned her neck toward him. As the dressing fell to the ground, her eyes drifted across his chest. There was a gash that ran deep into the muscle.
“Angelina,” he whispered, and held her tight.
First she felt a tender kiss along the hollow of her throat, and then a fleeting stab of pain. “Oh,” she exclaimed. It was followed by soft, longing moans from the rush of euphoria. She leaned against him, watching the wound on his chest heal without leaving a trace. “My blood can do that?”
“Yes,” Stellan said into her ear. “Are you alright?”
She stumbled back a step. “Light-headed. Nothing more.” A sudden memory crossed her mind. There was a cave, a young man . . . a kiss. She touched her lips, noticing how his face glowed from the warmth of her blood. “Stellan, what will we do?” she asked, oblivious of the raging fire around them.
“I’ll get you to the ferry. You’ll be safe.”
“Not that.” She buried her face in his chest. “I mean, what about us?”
“Angelina . . .” He stroked her hair. “I am of the sea. You are not. We have to say good-bye. There’s no other choice.” They stood like a statue, face-to-face, entwined, her long black robe snapping in the wind while, in the background, the city burned.
“Stellan,” she whispered, “there is always a choice.”
“Then I choose to keep you safe.”
The fires flared, and suddenly she was traveling at breakneck speed. Her eyes watered and colors blurred. In strobe-light flashes, she saw cable-car tracks stretched and snapped in two, traffic slammed to a halt, with vehicles skidding on their sides. Drivers were getting out of their cars, arguing, yelling, running. She was propelled past them, knocking into shoulders, tripping up legs, bumping pedestrians out of the way. Building fronts cracked and fell, exposing terrified people inside. Many were caught on fire escapes, dangling from broken rungs. The crowd thickened as they neared the ferry building. Flames blasted out every window and door; smoke blackened the sky. In the distance, fire bells clanged, and the foghorns sounded. Stellan didn’t slow down until they reached the pier.
“I’ll get you on a ferry,” he said, pointing toward the crowded dock. He led the way up the stairs and onto the loading platform. The noise was deafening. “Almost there.”
“No!” Angelina planted her feet, forcing him to stop and listen to her. “I don’t want to be safe, Stellan.” She pulled him to the side, away from the people pushing to get aboard. There, in the echoing clamor of the ferry building, Angelina took hold of his hands and focused on his eyes. Warmth caressed her body, making her heart jump. More images flooded her mind. The longer she held on to him, the clearer it became. “I remember,” she whispered. “We were in a cave. You saved me from drowning, and from the other Mar! That was Mrs. Fisher!” She sucked in her breath, remembering the way he had touched her heart, warmed her . . . excited her, loved her. “These nights in my bed! They were real!”
“Angelina . . .”
In the crowded public building, for all to see, she reached up and held his face in her hands. “Look at me, Stellan.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she lost herself in his eyes. “I don’t want to be safe,” she said again. “I want to be with you.” On tiptoe, she lifted her mouth to his, her lips barely touching at first. Heat exploded inside her as he responded. Together, they shared a long, exploring kiss, their bodies merging into one. Stellan. . .
He lifted her to him, pressing her hard against his chest. “Angelina,” he whispered, breathless. His dark gray eyes devoured her until he came back to himself. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Then explain it to me. Make me understand!” The noise of the burning city dimmed as the wind shifted. Her braided hair streamed wildly, and her body shook. “Tell me there is a way for us to be together.”
He shook his head. “I would have to take you to our tombs.”
“Where?”
“At the bottom of the Golden Gate Channel.”
“How deep?”
“Three hundred feet. More in some places.”
“And . . . I’ll survive?”
“That’s just it, Angelina.” He kissed her forehead and relaxed his embrace. “You won’t.”
“What?” she whispered.
“To become Mar, you must give your life to the sea.”
She sucked in her breath. “I have to drown?”
“Yes, and you must remain entombed until the transformation is complete.”
She let out the breath she was holding. “But you’ll be there. When I wake up?”
“You still don’t understand, Angelina. The long sleep can last for decades, maybe centuries, and when you stir, only human blood will give you life. Even then, you may never rise.”
“You mean . . . ?”
“The change doesn’t always take.”
Stellan held her shoulders, his hands trembling. “Angelina! I can’t lose you!”
Tears streamed down her face. “Nor I you! There is a way for us to be together, and I choose it!”
“I won’t have you give up your life for me.”
“And I won’t live a life without you!”
Stellan took her hands in his and closed his eyes. The ferry was gone, obscured by smoke. The woman is as strong and stubborn as she is beautiful.
The same could be said of the man. “Stellan, it will work. I feel it in my soul. You have to trust me. Trust us.”
Flames consumed the wharf. The fire moved toward them at an alarming rate. Boards snapped and fell into the sea. Hand in hand they raced to the far end of the ferry terminal. The wall had crumbled, and as he leaned over, he could see the sheer drop to the black water far below. “We’ll have to find a way down.” As he spoke, an aftershock rolled beneath them, and the platform collapsed. “Jump!”
She fell through the air, holding him tight. The heat from the fire scorched her until she thought she would be consumed. Seconds later, they hit the surface and plunged down into the sea.
Stellan covered her mouth with his own and exhaled. She felt a rush of heat, and, suddenly, the terrifying urge to breathe vanished.
Angelina looked at him, at his face, suddenly serene. Bubbles escaped her lips and sparked as they captured the firelight. Stellan, it is extraordinary!
You can’t yet imagine. . .
Down they glided, the world slowly draining of noise and color. The water was emerald green with bursts of orange flaring from the burning city. Bricks and charred beams sank with them. They passed a drowned team of pale horses hitched to a black carriage. It was caught against the pilings. Bodies were stuck halfway out the windows, the door crushed shut. Brass harness buckles and iron-shod hooves gleamed in the light while the dead beasts’ manes and tails fanned in the current. Stellan turned her toward him, his hand at her back. With the other, he slowly untied her silk robe and slipped it off her shoulders. It floated away like a black medusa, soon disappearing from sight.
Another shock wave jarred the water, followed by a distant explosion. A boiler, twisted and ripped in half, plummeted past them like a comet. It was followed by a rain of bodies. The corpses drifted, floating soundlessly, faces slack, eyes unseeing. Their frock coats and fine dresses pulled away as if to break free of the inevitable descent. Pockets turned out and shiny coins spilled, a shimmering waterfall into the abyss.
I’m disappearing . . . Angelina’s face was momentarily stricken.
Stellan placed his hand over her heart, and she relaxed, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile. You’ll be safe in the tombs. He slowly turned her back to him and held her close, one arm across her br**sts, the other around her waist. Deeper and deeper into the green darkness they went. As they fell, he gently unlaced her camisole, pulling it over her head and upstretched arms until she was finally free, the earthly garments left behind. Lastly, he unbraided her hair, and it streamed about them in the cold current.