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Jacob was the one who found it.
The night he wanted to kill his old man he was rattling around in the attic, looking for a proper weapon. His body was buzzing, blood racing, mind plotting how his father would die. His fingers shook as he pushed aside boxes and stacked books, revealing unknown treasure after unknown treasure, along with clouds of dust.
Then, beneath piles of cloth, there was a box, locked with a heavy iron padlock that made his teeth itch. It was old and rusted, and the wood had been damaged by time. Still, it seemed as good a place as any to hide a weapon, and, pumped on adrenaline, Jacob started trying to prise it open, fighting it until his fingers bled. The wood finally cracked around the lock, and Jacob found his luck turning for the better as the box clattered open, its contents tumbling out onto the floor.
It looked like a coat.
Soft and silvery, dappled with spots, it spread out on the piles of neglected debris, shimmering in his flashlight. Jacob had never been to the ocean, but the smell of the coat made him think of crying gulls and wet sand and roaring waves. His chest ached for something he had never known. He didn't understand why. But he picked the coat up carefully, wrapping it around himself. Instantly discomfort spread through him like a rash. It was like wearing someone else's skin. Bile rose in his throat.
Still, holding it, not wearing it, felt like home in a way that this miserable house never had.
Three smaller coats slipped out of it when he took the coat off, and Jacob leaned down, sifting through them. His hand tingled as he touched one, and he picked it up. It had seemed little at first, but as he unfolded it, the coat grew bigger and bigger until he knew it would fit him perfectly if he put it on.
There were only four coats. If one was his, then another must be Joseph’s, and another John’s, but the fourth? Jacob wasn’t sure. He picked up the fourth again, just as a gentle breeze rolled through the cracks in the floorboards. Past the sea-salt taste, there was another smell, faint and familiar.
Mom.
Jacob put all the coats back in the chest, but the lock was broken beyond fixing now, and he covered it with a pile of old clothes, creeping back downstairs. His father had passed out on the couch, and his mother was still sat in her usual place at the table, staring at nothing. She didn’t look up as he came closer.
“Mom,” he whispered, placing a hand on her arm.
Red-rimmed eyes looked up at him. “Jacob,” she mumbled, barely coherent.
“Mom, I found something,” he started, and this sounds crazy, but it makes me think of the beach, even though we’ve never been, “up in the attic. I think it’s yours?”
Mrs. Seed blinked, bleary as she tried to concentrate. “What did you find?”
“It’s- a coat?” he said. “Some kind of fur-”
His mom got to her feet so fast the chair scraped against the floor. “Where?” she hissed, the sluggish tiredness gone from her in an instant.
Jacob flinched away from her. He’d never seen her like this. “It’s- it’s in the attic, in a box,” he mumbled, glancing at his unconscious father. “And there’s some other coats in there-”
His mom was rushing past him, almost running as she staggered up the stairs and into the attic. Feverish whispers filled the air as she passed, and Jacob ran after her.
“Where is it,” she breathed, “where, where?”
Jacob pulled the pile of clothes away and opened the chest. His mom’s eyes widened, so blue in the dim light, and she covered her mouth with her hands as a high-pitched wail shook the house. Fear speared him like a shard of ice and Jacob’s head whipped around to look at the stairs. That surely woke up his father. Then he would hurt John and Joseph and Jacob was stuck up here with Mom-
She snatched the coat out of the chest and pulled it to her chest, sobbing quietly into the silvery fur, eyes tightly shut. Jacob couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her show any emotion, but she was crying, tears pouring down her face as she clutched the coat. Bowing at the waist, the woman he’d always known as being drawn-out and dead-eyed was muffling howled sobs, her whole body shaking.
“Mom…?” he finally whispered, reaching out a hand to touch her back.
She jumped, holding the coat away from him like he was going to snatch it, but when her eyes met his she relaxed, kissing the coat. “Thank you, Jake,” she whispered.
Jake. It felt weird coming from her, and Jacob wrinkled his nose. “What is it?” he asked.
It took her a moment, but she finally put the coat down, stroking it with one hand. “This is my cloak,” she said softly. “Your father took it away from me a long time ago, and because of that, I couldn’t run away.”
He frowned. “What’s so important about a coat?”
“It’s my skin, darling,” she laughed softly, “my skin that lets me change shape and go back to the sea.”
She was crazy.
“You’ve got skin, Mom,” was all he finally said. “This isn’t your skin. It’s a coat.”
“Oh Jacob.” She laughed. “There’s so much I haven’t told you.” She reached in and pulled out the largest of the three smaller coats, the one that had felt so right to him. “That one is yours. Your father made me take it off you when you were born. And these two,” she picked up the others, “these belong to your brothers.”
“But what are they?” Jacob asked. “What do you mean they’re skin?”
“We’re Selkie, Jacob,” his mother touched his hand, “changing from human to seal and back again, so long as we have our skins. I was always warned not to let a man find my skin, or he’d keep me forever, but your father… made me think he was safe.”
Jacob glanced down at the hand on his, not sure what to do with it. “Didn’t you look for it?”
“I did, but,” she gestured to the lock on the front of the chest, “iron, you see? Kept me from smelling it, from seeing it, from sensing it. But now,” she stood up, wrapping it around her shoulders, “now I have it back.” She glanced down at him. “And nothing will stop me from getting back home.”
Jacob got to his feet, watching her. She seemed alive now. “What does that mean? Are you going somewhere?”
She twirled around in the coat. “To the ocean, darling. I haven’t been to the ocean in almost two decades.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “...are you leaving us, Mom?”
She gave him a sad smile. “You have your skin now. You can come with me, if you want.”
“What about Joseph and John?” Jacob asked. “They need me.”
“They can come too,” she chuckled. “We can be a family, away from your father. Finally.”
That rankled. Jacob’s brow furrowed. “You never stopped him,” he accused. “You could’ve told us. We could’ve gotten your skin back and run away years ago.”
Her smile faltered. “I’m sorry, Jacob.”
He looked away. “Real late for that, Mom.”
She cupped his face. “I know, baby,” she said softly. “I really am sorry. But we can get out of here now.”
Jacob wasn’t sure that his mom wasn’t completely crazy. He folded his arms over his chest. “Do I have to answer right now? Can I think about it?”
Her smile deepened. “Of course. I won’t force you to make your mind up immediately. You are still half-human. If you’re attached to staying on land, I understand. Why don’t you talk to your brothers about it first?”
He swallowed, and glanced at the smaller skins, then picked them up. “Ok. Ok, I’ll talk to them about it.”
She smoothed down the grey fur and then twirled again, giggling. “You’ll love the ocean,” she promised him.
Nodding, Jacob headed down the stairs, the skins in hand, to talk to his brothers. They were asleep as he silently opened the door, and as he closed it behind them, kneeling down beside them, he heard soft footsteps in the hallway, heading for the stairs. For a moment, he listened, wondering what was happening.
Then the front door opened.
Jacob rushed out to see moonlight pouring into the house through the wide-open doorway.
The skin was the only thing that was his for the next twenty years.
They kept it for him when he was in juvie, and then when he was deployed, it was the only thing he really cared about having. Even in a sea of sand and rock and dirt, he’d hold it and think about the water. He didn’t put it on, though; because Jacob had done a little research when he could, and he didn’t think it would be a great idea to turn into a seal in the middle of the desert.
It stayed with him when he got back to America. He got into fights over it when sharp-eyed tweakers tried to steal it off him. More than a few shelters had kicked him out because of it. Jacob was fine with that. So long as he had the coat folded up and hidden when he left the shelter, he didn’t care if he was out on the street for a few nights.
He spent time in libraries, trying to work out more about what the hell he was, what his mom was. Some of what he found was enlightening, but mostly confusing. Plenty of stories about women like his mom who’d spent their lives forced to stay out of the water, only to run the moment they had their skins back. Every story seemed to end the same way- kids abandoned, mom fled. At least that was somehow comforting, in a sick way. He wasn’t the only one out there who’d been dumped like that.
He ended up in Rome again, almost two decades after he’d left. The sea called to him, but he ignored it. His mom was there. And maybe he could understand why she’d run away that night, but he would never forgive her for it. Like hell he was going anywhere near the ocean. He didn’t know what he would do if he ever met her again.
As luck would have it, Rome was exactly where his brothers returned to.
Joseph knew what he was, he’d buried his skin with his wife, and John hadn’t found out until after the Duncans had burned his skin. Jacob would’ve hunted them down and throttled them himself, but John was content to have his revenge by using their legacy to bring his true family back together.
Joseph did ask him if he wanted to go to the ocean once; Jacob had just laughed and tucked his skin away in a box, ignoring it completely for weeks until he needed to move it for some reason or the other. Then he’d held it for a moment, thought about whether or not he really wanted to chance meeting his mom again. Shoving it back into the box, he’d hidden it away.
Years later, after the move to Hope County, Jacob found himself staring at a place filled with waterways and lakes, and his skin itched. It wasn’t saltwater, and it didn’t lead to the ocean. Jacob stared out at it for a while until he was called away, but the urge to dive in never left. So he came back that night, skin in hand, and stripped off, wrapping the skin around himself. With that, he dove into the water.
It was good to finally embrace that side of himself after so many years. Hours passed whilst he gorged on the freshwater fish, swam up streams, held his breath, found barrels buried under silt and debris from years ago.
When he came up, Jacob knew it would never satisfy, but he was used to never being satisfied with his life. It was good enough, and that would do.
He supposed that was what attracted him to her, in the end.
Deputy Bachchan was restless, just like he was, moving from one place to the next, her place in the world uncertain in a society that was quickly closing ranks against people who were trying not to be forced to choose.
And yes, he would be lying if he didn't say he could smell her need. It was pure instinct. The males of his kind were attracted to frustration, to dissatisfaction. It never needed to be sexual, sure, but that was one of the things that she wasn’t satisfied with.
Hell, he hadn’t planned any of it, but apparently she liked to go skinny-dipping in Cedar Lake now and again, and that was where Jacob went swimming every night. He’d kept to the east side, her the west, so he hadn’t even known she was there until he clambered up onto the little island in the middle, one hand coming up to push back the hood of the skin, to see a naked girl staring at him in shock as a man appeared from underneath a seal skin.
“Uh,” Deputy Bachchan started, her hands busy wringing out her hair, “hi?”
“Don’t you arrest people for this?” Jacob found himself asking, one hand sliding off the skin, the other gesturing to her very naked tits.
“No,” she was staring at him, “no, I- arrest people for public indecency. It’s the middle of the night. I can relax the laws a little.”
“Right, I forgot,” he drawled, “laws don’t apply to you.”
“Honey,” there was a slightly shaky laugh that followed it, “I wouldn’t even know what to call what you just did.”
Jacob laid the skin out to dry. “You’re taking this well.”
“I mean, you’re in a cult,” she went back to squeezing the water out of her hair, “I was expecting some freaky shit. Maybe not… shapeshifting, but freaky shit.”
“I was expecting more screaming,” he added.
Another shaky laugh. “Oh Jacob. Promises promises.”
A thick, tangy scent filled the air and Jacob looked over at her as he realised it was her, it was her getting turned on, and he turned to face her. “What, you’re saying you want the freaky cult shit, is that it? You wanna see what else I’m hiding?”
Bachchan flipped her damp hair over one shoulder. “Not hiding much right now, honey.” Her eyes fell on the drying skin. "So… how much do I get to see before you have to kill me?"
"Oh Deputy." Jacob came closer, watching a little shiver run down her spine as he slowly approached. "Now why would I wanna kill ya? I've got a nice view."
The woman cocked her hip and winked at him. “I promise I can make it even better.”
He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was getting hard, despite dripping with cold lake water, despite the cool air. He could smell it on her as she came closer, wringing out her hair again, heading for the bag of dry clothes she’d set down by the cabin.
He caught her before she reached it, one hand on her throat, tugging her against him. “You know technically this is a private island, and you’re trespassing. But since I’m the one who owns it, I’ll be lenient on ya and let you pick community service instead of doin’ any jail time.”
The scent of her arousal was thick in the air. It was doing things to his head, but not as much as the way she pressed up against him, her breath hitching.
“Leniency and bragging all in one,” her heart was thudding loudly in her chest as she lifted her fingers to touch the back of his hand, “an offer I couldn’t possibly say no to.”
“I think you could if you wanted,” he loosened his grip, trailing his hand down to her shoulders, silently inviting her to run, “but where’s the fun in that?”
Bachchan twisted around, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning into him. “So, do you own that cosy little cabin too, Jacob, or are you gonna fuck me in the woods?”
“You picky?” he drawled.
“Depends on if you can keep the dirt out of my ass,” she shot back.
“If you’re worried about gettin’ dirty, the lake’s just there,” he pointed out, but he picked her up without effort and carried her up the path to the cabin, swiping the spare key and unlocking the door. He set her down on the bed the moment he was inside. “Now, you promised me an even better view.”
She delivered on that promise a couple minutes later, lying on her back against the mattress with his cock between her lips, her fingers circling her clit as her muffled moans buzzed against him. Bachchan seemed to be set on teasing herself even as she did her best to get him off, and Jacob could already tell he was going to walk out of here with her number if the rest of it was as good as her mouth. She swallowed him down without complaint, wiping her lips clean when he finally drew out, brown eyes gazing up at him, begging for more.
He was happy to repay the favour, pinning her to his mouth until she was a wriggling mess begging for him to stop and making no effort to stop him, thighs squeezing to keep him where he was and fingers tangling into his hair to anchor him in place. It might’ve been twice or three times that he pulled an orgasm out of her like that, and he was starting to really enjoy the way she felt in his hands. If she didn’t come to her senses and freak out in the next couple days, he was going to be swimming a lot more.
Jacob fucked her twice, once bent over the bed with her ass in the air, his hand pinned underneath her to work her clit as her heel dug into the back of his thigh. The cabin echoed with her curses and cries as he got a fourth and then a fifth orgasm out of her before he was done, and he sat back to watch her haul herself up onto the bed, lifting her hips to keep his cum from dripping everywhere. When he licked it out of her, she sobbed.
It was when she was riding him, clawing into his chest as she trembled on top of him, that Jacob decided he could get used to this.
And when she fell onto his chest at the end, her forehead pressed against his. She caught her breath, holding him tightly, before she kissed him.
“What are you?” she asked a couple days later over a coffee that she’d bought him from one of the nearby gas stations. They were sat in that cabin, soaking from lake water and sweat.
“Was wondering when you’d ask.” He took a sip of the coffee. “You ever hear of something called a selkie?”
Her head tilted. “Hmm. No. Is that you?”
“Half,” he corrected. “My old man was human. My mom was the full-blooded one.”
“Was?” Her voice was soft when she asked the question, and he glanced over to see those doe eyes gazing at him.
“That thing,” he pointed to the skin, “for the full-blooded ones, mostly women, you’re bound to whoever has it. Supposedly they’d be warned not to let a man know what they are or let him take the skin, or they could never go home. But my mom trusted the wrong guy.”
Bachchan gave him a sad look. “Did she ever get away?”
“I was twelve,” he said, “and I found her skin, and she ran out that night. That was 35 years ago, and I never saw her again.”
The Deputy shifted closer to him on the bed, her hand on his. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“Didn’t say it was.” She was trying to be nice to him. “But even if she showed up tomorrow I wouldn’t have anything good to say.”
“I’m sorry.” The pity in her eyes was genuine.
Jacob set his coffee down a little harder than he needed to and pulled her mouth to his. “You’re killin’ the mood, sweetheart.”
“You want me to stop asking?” she mumbled against his lips.
“That’d be preferable,” he shot back, and nudged up her jaw to find a space on her neck that he hadn’t marked with his teeth.
“Hey,” it came out soft and ragged, “have you ever been to the beach?”
Jacob pulled back, his eyes meeting hers. “What?”
“I’m just saying,” her fingertips skimmed along the back of his neck, “Washington state has tonnes of them. I could take you there. Weekend trip to the beach.”
He couldn’t help staring at her, because he was pretty sure she was trying to be nice again. “How ‘bout,” his fingers ran up her belly to cup her breasts, “we stop talking?”
“I can do that,” she gasped.
He was still thinking about it hours later. Yeah, he’d thought about it, but she was offering. She knew he wasn’t human and she didn’t care. His chest felt warm where her head rested against it. Jacob curled his fingers into her hair.
Maybe his mom would’ve had something to say about keeping her to himself when the Reaping started. Hell, Jacob couldn’t help but snort at the irony. Usually it was his kind who were in danger of being held like this, at the mercy of whoever had their skin. Well, she’d burrowed her way under his, and it didn’t matter what form he took; he couldn’t get her out of his head.
So he didn’t feel any guilt about taking her from the church before Joseph had even reached the helicopter meant to take him to justice.
Deputy Bachchan woke tied to his bed by all four limbs, screaming bloody murder at him the moment he was in the room, cursing up a storm as she tried to get herself free from her restraints. She didn’t; he’d tied the knots himself, and she just wore herself out trying to. But it was fun to watch, and Jacob only left when the anger turned into quiet sobbing.
“Why are you doing this?” she finally asked him. “Please, just let me go.”
“Go where? This county is being Reaped,” Jacob reminded her. “There’s nowhere for you to go. And even if you did get free, you’re mine now. I will hunt you until I have you back, do you understand?”
“I don’t,” she protested, “why? Why me, Jacob? We just- all we did was fuck.”
“You accepted me,” he managed to grab her jaw before she could bite him, “you saw me and you weren’t scared of me. You’re the only person I’ve ever shown myself to, sweetheart.”
“I’m scared of you now,” she hissed, snarling at him. “Let me GO!”
“No you’re not,” he kissed her neck, then her cheeks, starting opening her shirt, “otherwise you wouldn’t be fighting. And I like the fighting, sweetheart. Proves to me that you’re strong.”
She stopped fighting like it would put him off, but Jacob just pulled out his knife and cut her clothes off, leaving her naked in front of him the way she had been most nights for the last four weeks. He wasn’t worried about her getting free and trying to kill him. He took his time with her. Bachchan had a tendency to try to rush things, so he didn’t even touch her until she was soaking wet from his mouth and hands mapping every inch of her. The noise she let out when his tongue dragged up from perineum to clit almost got him off without needing anything else. He didn’t show her mercy either; she came three times like that.
She was already shivering when he finally stripped, and a soft plea for him to stop went ignored as he sunk into her, licking a line of sweat off her neck. Bachchan couldn’t fight her own body, even as she refused to look at him; Jacob lost count of the number of times she’d clench around him with anything from desperate sobs to high cries. She’d come around eventually, realise her purpose, accept all of him just as he was.
“You have to let me go,” she mumbled, hours later, her muscles shaky and weak. “Please.”
He kissed her without meeting resistance. “No. You belong to me. I will keep you safe. You just have to do as you’re told.”
She was crying when he kissed her again.
It tasted like the sea.