My favorite review of the last chapter was simply this: "You are evil." Muahahahaha.
This is most likely the second to last chapter. It's been a long and wonderful ride and I'm proud of myself for actually finishing this story - it was a struggle at times, that's for sure. You guys and your amazing reviews and nice encouragements have kept me going, kept me working hard to make you all proud of the end result.
So thanks. :-)
They arrived in boats, landing at what would later become Sheppard's Cove. There were ten of them in all, each a woman of a different age, shape, and size. They waded through the shallow water and onto the shore, carrying bags on their backs, their feet bare.
They walked up the rocky dunes towards the dirt road above and the few pilgrims they passed whispered "witch" in harsh undertones. The word spread like wildfire through the town and soon they called them water witches, sorceress who had simply come from the sea.
In truth, they were ondine, as ancient as the water from which they rose, and the lilt to their voices brought the natives closer than the pilgrims dared to tread. The natives gave them land to live on, assistance when they needed it. They lived quietly, taking as little from their hosts as was needed. The natives understood what they needed, what they were, and they kept watch over those independent women, protecting them from the suspicious voices that rose up from the little village on the sea.
Over the years, it became more and more difficult to live on such a small amount. The longer they stayed on land, separated from the cold, northern waters, the weaker they became, the more they needed to feed to survive. One warm, summer night, in a heated frenzy, an ondine took too much from a native, a man whom she had planned to marry, had planned to bear a child with, and he died, drowning in the waters of his lover's curse.
The pilgrims pounced upon the death like vultures, declaring it a sign from God that the ondine were evil, and they set forth to rid the town of the blasphemous women. They separated them from their native protectors, corralled them on what the natives called Tuwiuwok. They forced them over the cliff and back into the sea.
Some were stronger than others and they survived, fighting their way through the raging waters to the jagged land below. Those who lived, made their way back to the land the natives had given them. They stayed there, waiting, until the godly moved on and were replaced by northerners with a love of the land and the sea.
She aches all over, her limbs heavy and her head pounding with a consistent, rhythmic beat. She drags Alice's limp body behind her as she swims towards shore, the tiniest strip of land she can see seated at the base of the cliff from which they just plunged.
The fall should have killed them both, but Audrey's cat-like luck struck again and instead of hitting the rocks, she landed in a tidal pocket, deep enough to cushion her fall. She isn't unscathed, though. Her left arm burns and aches in an all too familiar way. It's most likely broken, fractured at best.
She thinks Alice is dead, her pale and ancient body far too light for a living being. It's not until they finally reach land that Audrey has a moment to check her pulse. It's faint and fading. She brings herself up to her knees, shivering violently, and fans out her right hand on Alice's chest, covers it with her left. She's set to do compressions, but the instant she leans down and puts weight on her left arm, the tenuous bone snaps and she rears back in excruciating pain, howls into the encroaching darkness.
Alice's green eyes fly open.
"It would seem you win this one, Detective," she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Audrey moves slowly towards her, reaching out with her good hand to take hold of the woman's frail one. "How old are you, Alice?"
Alice smiles without warmth, her eyes focusing on a point far above Audrey's head. Audrey lets go of her icy hand and moves away. "Younger than you," she hisses.
Audrey watches the life – all those hundreds of years – leave the woman on the ground. "Ondine," she says, falling back into the snow. She's freezing, will freeze to death if she doesn't get moving. She pushes herself to her feet, her arm hanging limply at her side, and she starts the trek up the hill towards the top of the cliff.
She wonders, briefly, as she struggles upward, if this was what Julia was planning to tell them tonight. It makes her laugh, which warms her enough to keep her going up and up and away.
Up and away from Alice White.
Up and towards Nathan.