A/N: This was the chapter I was working on that made me realize I hadn't posted the previous one. Yikes!


Eight

Sometimes when one's very survival is on the line, time seems to slow down. It's considered a side-effect of the adrenaline coursing through one's veins—the fight-or-flight instinct—and it helps mortal beings manage their fear to turn it into a useful tool. With precisely the right amount of adrenaline, a human body can run faster, leap higher, and dodge quicker than should be possible. They are the closest thing one can become to a time traveler as their senses hone into supernatural levels. It is what has helped humanity itself survive the ages to become what it is today.

Ian and Clara ran for their lives hand-in-hand, adrenaline doing a seemingly poor job at helping time slow down enough to outrun Innes's servant. The nuckelavee chased them relentlessly, the head of the "rider" lolling about haplessly as the creature kept pace. Its sickly wheezing preceded it and seemed to be the very wind itself.

Bounding over the short garden wall, the pair felt magic crackle around them as Ian's barrier enveloped them. Despite this, he hurriedly fumbled with the door, pushing Clara inside before rushing in himself. He slammed the door shut and braced his back against it, as though the barrier would do no good at all.

"What was that?!" Clara wondered, breathing heavily. Ian peeked outside the kitchen window and saw their pursuer kick its front hooves, the sound of torrential wind in place of its braying.

"The nuckelavee," he growled. He furrowed his brow as he watched the creature sulk off, delayed for the time being. "It is the embodiment of the evil that can come from the surrounding seas—if it were to run around unchecked during the warmer months, it would bring with it plague and poor harvests. Innes thinks she can control it, but that's a farce." He was breathing just as heavily as Clara, though his punctuated by calculating thought.

"Why can't she control it?" she asked. "Innes is clearly powerful."

"She is, but she's still just a water spirit," he explained. "The nuckelavee is Teran's pet, and cats with rule over their human's flat have better training than this being ever has. He's released every winter until Mither comes, and she puts the nuckelavee in its place and drives Teran back during the fierce Spring storms."

"Mither?"

"Sjeh Mither, the Sea Mother, is Teran's sister and worst enemy. She is a loving lass when she comes north to live amongst us, but sometimes battles her brother for weeks in order to send him away. Teran eventually leaves, while the nuckelavee is sealed away for the duration of Mither's stay. I saw the chamber once when I was a pup—she takes the utmost precaution when it comes to its capture."

"…but it's getting close to summer and the storms have pretty much stopped," Clara mentioned. "Does this mean that Innes broke the nuck-a-lava free?"

"Yes, it is," Ian said gravely. "Only Mither has the firmness to be able to wholly control her brother's pet. The creature is cooperating for now, but it's only a matter of time before it rebels and Mither will come in her wrath and glory to return him to his cage."

With the threat having retreated for the time being, it was now time for the selkie to turn his attention to what was before him. He saw Clara was now standing close to him, still recovering from the run with gasping breaths and a whole cacophony of smells and hormones wafting up and jumbling his senses. Ian just then noticed how quickly his heart was beating, sensing it was in-time with hers. A switch flipped in his brain and he gently brought her even closer. Her scent was the most intoxicating thing he had ever experienced, and the very moment she began to pull his head down towards her, he jammed his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with a dizzying vigor.

Clara moaned loudly in approval, fingers grasping his curls to keep his head firmly in place. Ian's head spun as they kissed, and before he knew it, he was pressing her into the cupboards, having hoisted her up into his arms. Her body was warm and inviting and everything he'd been dreaming of since she called him on accident all that time ago now. He felt his hips move of their own accord, grinding between her legs, and he forced himself to break the kiss, burying his face in her shoulder in shame.

"…Ian…?"

"Clara… I'm sorry." He tenderly kissed her neck and lowered her back to the floor, keeping his arms around her. "I can't keep doing this to you without knowing it's genuine or fae magic."

"Well, you seem to be better with the hugging part," she assured him, rubbing circles on his back.

"Never trust a hug—all it does is hide one's face," he said lowly. "Never trust a hug or the Fair Folk's attempts at matchmaking; I can barely handle this thing I'm hardwired to do…and yes, I know what that means. It feels like one of these days I won't catch myself and I'll go far enough to violate you."

"I think I can hold my own against a seal," she teased. Clara sat down on the linoleum, bringing Ian with her. He laid on the floor and put his head in her lap, letting her stroke his head and shoulders in an effort to ease his tense body. It was still difficult, since he was so close to her, but he made do with licking his lips instead.

Exhaling heavily, Clara broke the silence between them. "How long do you think we'll be stuck here?"

"Not sure—a week, maybe? It depends on when Mither realizes the nuckelavee has gone missing. She doesn't always check it, nor does she always stay in the same place for very long."

"Of course; fae have a reputation to uphold, after all."

As she continued to stroke Ian's hair, the man curled up his body into a tight ball, there on the kitchen floor. This woman was incredibly understanding, and something told him that it wasn't going to be the last time she was so with him.


…and they waited.

It took a couple days before Ian felt comfortable enough to allow Clara to go outside and into the garden again. She found it was a lucky thing that she had been slowly stocking up on extra food, as the nuckelavee's presence on North Ronaldsay meant that winds were beginning to pick up and localize, making it so that the ferries had a difficult time getting through for the time of year and the stores being reluctant to send deliveries to the cottages away from Hollandstoun for more than an utmost emergency. It would mean she'd have to buy all her extra food again, but it was more than worth going hungry.

Ian, however, stayed decidedly inside the entire time. He avoided windows, muttered to himself constantly, and spent plenty of time shut in one of Clara's spare rooms. He cleared what he didn't need out into another, using the space to tinker and keep his mind busy while waiting out the nuckelavee's patience for Innes's plan. By the time Lorens came over again, he had taken apart a couple clocks, and old microwave, and even an old turntable record player, which was well on its way to becoming a self-changing device that would automatically reshuffle and play through Orson's vinyl collection every ten hours.

"Why's Mr. Morlo acting funny?" Lorens wondered. He was sitting with Clara at the kitchen table, going over a report that he had due later in the month.

"Mr. Morlo can't go outside and look for signs of the Fair Folk for his research," Clara lied. "With all the wind, he can't take photos without risking something blowing in his face, and can't write on paper without it blowing away."

"I nearly blew away coming here, so paper sounds scary," the boy nodded. He thought for a moment as Clara typed notes into the document for him to look at later. "Doesn't he have a computer or something? I thought everyone did—even Mrs. Sigurdsson at the resale shop has one, and she's so ancient she can barely turn it on."

"He knows what a computer is, and uses mine fine, but that doesn't mean anything," she replied. Once she was done marking, she turned the laptop back over to Lorens. "Speaking of Mr. Morlo, I'm going to check on him. You get a start on your corrections."

"Yes, Miss Oswald."

With that, Clara left the kitchen and quietly went up the stairs. She found Ian precisely where she left him: hunched over his abomination of a turntable. He barely tilted his head as he looked up at her, his eyes flitting about under his lashes to make sure it was her and not some imposter.

"Lorens didn't leave yet, did he?" he asked quickly.

"No—he's still in the kitchen." She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head against his back. "You're going to drive yourself insane; Fair Folk aren't meant to be kept cooped up."

"I'd rather be in this house until next Spring than be stomped to death by that creature," he replied. Ian gently touched the hand resting on his stomach before going back to his work. "Innes is not going to get the better of us."

"I hope so," she agreed. After pressing a kiss to the back of his jumper, Clara let go and made her way for the door, only for the selkie to grab her hand, placing something in it.

"Walk Lorens home, but both of you have to wear one of these," he said. She examined his gift, seeing that it was a pair of necklaces, each holding a stone emblazoned with a carved rune. "They have enough protective magic to keep you safe during the walks between houses. Don't take it off, no matter what, and it should recharge once you're over the property line." He bent and kissed the crown of her head, forcing himself to let her move towards the door. "You think I'm being silly, don't you?"

"It may be silly, but it's out of legitimate fear," she said, putting a charm around her neck and tucking it into her shirt. "I'll tell Lorens his is something you've been trying to recreate with your research."

"It's to keep him from being detected by malicious eyes and ill intents," Ian added. Clara nodded silently and closed the door behind her, knowing that things were not going to go well if they kept up like this.