“Shouldn’t it.” Reg shook her head in disgust. “You can get out of my room now.”
Damon’s mouth tightened. “Well, since I paid for it, it’s not exactly your—”
“You want me to go home right now?”
He was clearly fighting back fury. Though what he had to be angry about, Reg didn’t know. He had lied and misled her. She was the injured party, not him.
“No,” he snapped. “Fine. It’s your room and I’ll get out. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know your decision in the morning.”
Reg nodded. “Fine,” she echoed.
Damon looked at Corvin, clearly expecting him to leave. Corvin didn’t make any move, and Reg didn’t tell him to go. Damon looked back and forth between them and decided he wasn’t going to be asked to act as a chaperone or bodyguard this time. He left the room without another word. Reg turned her attention to Corvin.
She was still angry, and she could take the remainder of her anger out on him, pointing out the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be getting into her head without her permission, and that he was the one who had made the disastrous recommendation of hiring a swamp goblin to be their guide.
But it wasn’t his fault that Damon had not been upfront about the details of his search. If Reg spouted off at him, that would be why, not because Corvin had done her any harm.
“Dinner?” Corvin suggested, his tone light.
Reg breathed out, slowly pushing out all her air, hopefully along with the anger and frustration.
“Okay. Yeah. I know I need something.”
“There happens to be a very famous restaurant and bar here. We will be able to make it for the show. How does that sound?”
She wasn’t sure she was interested in any bar entertainment, but at least it would take Corvin’s attention off of her and she would, hopefully, be able to relax.
“Okay, sure,” she agreed. “Let’s check out the floor show.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Reg stared at the sign in the elevator as they went down to the main floor. She wasn’t sure how she had missed it on the way up. She supposed she had been too focused on a hot bath at that point to notice anything else. She skimmed the headlines on the poster, together with the picture, and looked at Corvin in disbelief.
“A mermaid bar?”
He nodded, grinning. Reg took a quick look around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.
“They’re not… real mermaids, are they?”
She had seen a real mermaid for the first time in Black Sands while she was on the hunt, and Reg didn’t want to get anywhere near any real mermaids.
Corvin shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Oh.” Reg let out her breath. “Well, good. So you just want to see some women in seashell bikinis while you’re eating.”
“They do a dance and everything.”
“I can imagine.”
“Soon, you won’t have to imagine. You’ll be able to see it for yourself.”
Reg didn’t care. Corvin ogling the mermaids was just fine with her. She didn’t want his attention focused on her. Especially while she was trying to sort things out and figure out what she was going to do about Damon.
Was she still in? Was there any point in trying to locate a wizard who had been missing for fifty years, even if she did have a picture now? There wasn’t any guarantee that the picture Damon had given her even was Wilson, or that he looked anything like that. But she had more now. If she went to where he had been lost and where people had seen him, then even without talking to witnesses, he might have left enough of an imprint there for her to get some kind of read. She had thought that she’d gotten a location on him once, even without a picture and with the wrong image in her head. Now that she had the right information…
“Reg?”
Reg focused on Corvin. They were sitting at the bar having a pre-dinner drink while waiting for a table to open up. With his glass, he indicated the scantily-clad woman who was waiting for them. “They’re ready to seat us.”
“Right. Yeah. I’m right with you.”
She took her drink and followed the hostess, with Corvin bringing up the rear like a gentleman. The curvy woman stopped at a booth that was right up against the side of the huge aquarium and gestured to it. “How’s this?”
Reg shrugged.
“That’s just fine,” Corvin agreed. “Thank you.”
She fluttered her eyelids at him, brushing by him just a little more closely than was strictly necessary. Even when he wasn’t trying to, Corvin often charmed the women around him.
Reg sat down and Corvin sat across the table from her.
“There, this is nice.”
“As long as they’ve got food, that’s all that I care about.”
Corvin glanced around at the other tables. “It would appear so,” he observed dryly.
Reg picked up one of the menus that the hostess had left at the table. She flipped it open and was glad to see that it wasn’t full of pictures of mermaids, but had photos of some of their signature dishes alongside the descriptions. That made it so much easier than trying to puzzle through all of the descriptions. She would still be reading when Corvin was finished his meal. Although with the distraction of the mermaids, maybe not.
“Order whatever you like,” Corvin advised. “I imagine the seafood is the house specialty.”
“The seafood is the house specialty at every restaurant in Florida.”
“Well… pretty much,” he admitted.
Reg browsed through the pictures. Nothing ever looked exactly like the picture when she got it, but as long as it was close, she didn’t care. She just needed something edible to boost her blood sugar. It had been a long time since Etienne’s mushrooms and berries.
Corvin had barely glanced over his menu when he folded it back over and set it to the side. He must have been there once before, to have made a decision so quickly.
“So… tell me how you managed to fight off a swamp goblin,” he suggested.
Reg looked at him. She considered whether to tell him about the panther or not. He knew there were panthers in the Everglades; he had told her so. It wouldn’t exactly be a surprise.
“I admit I had a little help.”
“Oh?” His lids were half-lowered as he gazed at her. She wondered how much he could sense from her thoughts. The two of them had shared powers and energy too many times for her to keep him completely out. At least he wasn’t trying to charm her; she would have known by the scent of roses around him. “I would be surprised if you had not. Swamp goblins are physically powerful, even if their magic is not. But then, so are sirens.”
“I’m not a siren.”
“No,” he agreed. “But… you definitely have siren in your blood.”
Reg shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that. Do you want me to tell you or not?”
He sat back slightly, his eyes never wavering. A lightning bolt of heat shot through Reg. “Yes. Do tell me.”
“Well, I don’t know how happy with the answer you’ll be, since you don’t like cats.”
“Cats? What do cats have to do with it? I don’t imagine you ran into a clowder of cats out there in the swamp.”
“A clowder?”
“I believe that’s the right term for a group of cats.”
Reg had never heard the word before. She shrugged. “No. Just one cat.”
“Not a house cat, then.”
“No. Did you know that when you were snoring away the other night, feeling all safe in your sleeping bag, that a panther was prowling around outside the camp?”
“No.” He raised his brows. “I had no idea. But the panthers around here do tend to be quite shy. I wouldn’t really have worried about one of them approaching the camp. It would have avoided us.”
“Yeah, lots of things around here would avoid us if they could. Well, I was talking to him. Sort of. Communing. When Tybalt kidnapped me. I guess Tybalt never saw the ca
t, and the panther never gave himself away. He just followed us.”
“Why? And what did you say when you were talking to him? I wouldn’t think it would be particularly safe to be having a conversation with a large cat out in the swamp in the middle of the night.”
“I thought you said that he would avoid us.”
“Until you start messing with the natural order of things. Like communicating with it.”
“Well… I didn’t say anything. Not in words. I was just thinking. Thinking of Starlight and home and being safe. I guess he was… curious.”
“So he followed you, and then when you got free of Tybalt…”
“He helped. He’s the one who… took care of things.”
Corvin nodded slowly. He sipped his drink. “You always seem to have well-placed friends,” he observed. “Even when you were brand new here, you always seemed to have someone close by looking out for your interests.”
“I don’t know why he decided to help. I don’t think he eats goblin. But he did help me; I don’t think I could have fought Tybalt off on my own. Or gotten off of the island and to… safety.”
“This creature escorted you all the way to where we found you? That was the nearest civilization?”
Reg shrugged. She was saved by their waitress, who appeared at the side of their table, looking a little harried, to take their dinner orders. Reg indicated a picture of a burger with fries on the menu.
“The Angus burger?”
The waitress nodded, chewed her gum, and wrote it down. “And you, sir?”
Corvin rattled off questions about their offerings, then placed his order in exacting detail. The waitress made a couple of notes and took the menus from them.
Corvin started to ask Reg a question, but then the lights dimmed and music started, and it was time for the floor show. Or the aquarium show, since the mermaids weren’t actually on the floor. Reg looked into the big aquarium beside her as mermaids swam down from the top and in from the sides, which were out of view. They didn’t look much like the real mermaid she had seen, and that was probably a good thing. She didn’t want to think too much about that evening. It had been quite disturbing to see the mermaid and siren out hunting together, and the image had stuck with Reg.
Their dance was nicely choreographed and the mermaids were undoubtedly attractive. They had been fitted with long flippers that helped to propel them through the water. Corvin had said that not many mermaids had flippers anymore; apparently, it was a recessive trait that was dying out.
It was amazing how long they could hold their breaths, especially while doing all of that physical activity. Reg found herself holding her own breath, seeing if she would be able to stay under the water as long as they did. It wasn’t even close. But what would happen if she were really in the water? Would the siren traits she had inherited allow her to hold her breath for longer? Or, as a siren, would she be hampered by her human characteristics?
She tried to breathe normally. Her sudden breath in was too loud, and Corvin’s eyes were drawn away from the mermaids to her.
“They’re quite good, aren’t they?” Reg asked.
“Yes. Amazing. It all seems very natural.”
Reg nodded.
She had the uncomfortable feeling of someone looking at her and turned her head to sweep a glance at the people seated behind her. Her senses told her that it wasn’t Damon, but someone else she should know. She didn’t see anyone on the initial glance and looked again a minute later, studying the faces more carefully. Who was there? Who was watching her?
“Something wrong?” Corvin inquired.
“No… just… someone watching me.”
“They’re probably just watching the mermaids, looking past you.”
“No. I can feel it. Someone is looking at me.”
He looked at the various people in the direction she had looked and shook his head. “No, I don’t see anyone suspicious.”
Reg wondered if Bruce the skin-walker could change himself to look like other humans, instead of the form she had first seen him in. If he could… then he could be almost anyone.
But then she saw him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was one of the men she had seen at the Skunk Man Saloon. One of the group of retirees, with a round face and a fringe of white hair.
He was probably just as surprised to run into her again at the mermaid bar as she was to see him there.
Then again, she didn’t suppose there was a lot of night entertainment in the Everglades. People would have to look farther afield. And an older man like that, he might not want to go very far. So they both ended up going to the nearest convenient place. Reg because she needed a hotel room, and the man because he wanted someone to talk to, or to see all of the sites, or maybe he had booked a room for the night too. There weren’t a lot of hotels close to the park, and as Damon had discovered on their way there, many were already booked up for some kind of sneaker convention.
“There,” she said to Corvin, indicating the man, “he was at the Skunk Man Saloon.”
Corvin looked. “Was he? You have a good memory.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I have a pretty good memory for faces. Maybe that’s from going to so many different foster homes and schools. If you don’t remember who is supposed to be picking you up at the end of the day or which kids are in your class…”
“That could be rather awkward,” Corvin agreed with a nod.
“I guess when different people are all touring the Everglades, you probably run into people over and over again.”
“I’ve noticed that at other places. The same way as when you keep passing by and getting passed by the same cars on the highway, or running into the same person on different aisles at the grocery store. It’s just natural that if you’re in the same space, you’re going to keep seeing each other.”
Reg took a sip of her drink, wondering when the waitress would be bringing their food. They probably shouldn’t have arrived right in time for the floor show. It was probably the restaurant’s most busy time. They should have just ordered from room service.
But staying alone in the hotel room with Corvin was really out of the question. She would have had to kick him out and eaten alone. She wasn’t sure, after all she had been through over the last couple of days, that she wanted to be alone.
So she had to wait a little longer for her meal.
She closed her eyes briefly to rub her forehead, just above and between her eyebrows. She hoped that once she had some food, her head would start to feel better. But maybe it was sleep she needed more. It was hard to tell.
When she opened her eyes and raised them again, a man was sitting in the seat next to Corvin, who appeared to have been shoved several inches toward the aquarium. The space that Corvin had been occupying had been taken by a man who was familiar with Reg, but who she hadn’t expected to see again. It was no chance meeting of two tourists who had booked the same hotel or entertainment.
He was tall and broad-chested. He looked vaguely like the lumberjack in a TV commercial—handsome and rugged.
“Weston.”
“Hello,” Weston greeted. He spread himself out to take up more space, forcing Corvin to hug the wall of the aquarium. “How is Regina Rawlins today.”
He said it in a flat tone with no inflection to indicate that it was a question. Maybe something that someone had told him he should say, but he didn’t understand why.
“What are you doing here?” Reg demanded, not bothering to answer.
“I am sitting here with you.” He remained focused on her as if he couldn’t even see Corvin, the man who had been sitting with her before his arrival.
“You can’t just barge in here like that!”
He cocked his head slightly. “Clearly, I can.”
“I don’t want to see you. Why did you come here? You don’t belong here. And you can’t just appear and disappear into thin air. You’ll freak people out. They won’t know what’s going on.”
He looked around, but no one seemed to be paying him the least bit of attention. Everyone was still watching the swaying, swimming, dancing mermaids. Weston looked back at Reg, brows raised. Reg pressed her fingers into her temples, trying to figure out what to do. Where was Harrison?
As soon as she thought of him, he was there beside her. On the inside of the bench, against the aquarium, so that the two immortals were sitting kitty-corner to each other. Tall like Weston, but slim, and with a mustache he twirled and fidgeted with while he thought. While Weston’s outfit was fairly normal, Harrison was wearing a bright orange silk shirt with a kind of a gangster hat. The type Reg thought might be called a porkpie.
“Ah, there you are,” Harrison said to Weston.
“Why is he here?” Reg turned her question to Harrison this time. “I thought it was part of your job to protect me from him.”
Harrison shrugged. “You do not appear to be harmed.”
“If you can’t keep track of him, then how are you going to make sure of that? He could have taken me somewhere else. Or some time else. Isn’t it a rule that he has to stay away from me?”
“No,” Harrison said slowly. “Not really. When you were a little girl, you were more vulnerable and we had to protect you from Destine. But Weston?” He gave a careless shrug. “You are his blood. I cannot keep you apart.”
“That’s crazy. I thought there was this whole balance of power thing and he has to stay hidden now.”
“I’m right here,” Weston pointed out, apparently annoyed at being talked about.
“Then go somewhere else,” Reg snapped.
Weston raised his eyes to watch the mermaids. He tipped his head from one side to the other.
“I don’t think those are real mermaids,” he said eventually.
“No, they’re not.”
“They are good, though.” Weston looked at Harrison. “Perhaps we ought to make some more mermaids. Someone said there weren’t very many of them left. They were always a fascinating species.”
“You can make mermaids?” Reg asked. But she supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. They could appear and disappear at will, transport her from one place or time to another, teleport food from a restaurant, break curses; why not create mermaids or some other species? They had to have come from somewhere. She shook her head and changed her question. He had distracted her, intentionally or unintentionally. “Why are you here?”
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