“Maybe,” Beka said with reluctance. “If it is the same man. It might not be.”
Chewie grumbled low in his throat. “What are the odds of two handsome, arrogant, black-haired, black-hearted scoundrels showing up at the same time? Face it, Beka, you’ve been tricked. He has probably been hanging around you to keep an eye on what you’re doing and make sure you don’t interfere with his plans.”
Beka shook her head. “No. I don’t believe it. Kesh cares about his people, and he cares about me.”
“That wouldn’t necessarily stop him from trying to cause trouble for Humans, Beka,” Gregori pointed out gently. “So, I take it you know someone who might be our renegade?”
She pressed her lips together, as if talking about it might somehow make it true. But just because she liked someone didn’t mean they couldn’t be guilty of bad decisions, bad behavior, or worse. Brenna had always warned her that she was a terrible judge of people. Of course, Brenna thought she was terrible at pretty much everything.
“His name is Kesh,” Chewie informed the Riders flatly. “He’s a Selkie prince, and he’s been wooing our Beka for weeks. Leaving her stinky flowers, inviting her to romantic picnics on the beach. Showing up here, there, and everywhere. I never liked him.”
“You not liking someone isn’t exactly proof of wrongdoing,” Beka pointed out. “You didn’t like me when Brenna first brought me home, as I recall.”
Chewie settled down, pillowing his head on her foot after giving it a consoling lick. “You smelled bad,” he muttered. “And you kept crying on me and getting my fur all wet. But you grew on me.”
“See,” she said. “You might like Kesh if you got to know him better. The couple of times he’s been here, you barely spoke to him.”
“He was too damned charming. I don’t trust charming people; they’re always up to no good.”
“Well, that’s not proof of anything,” Beka said stoutly. “And neither is a vague description that could be any of a dozen people I’ve met since I moved here. I asked Kesh if he was involved and he swore he wasn’t. I’m not going to believe that he has anything to do with this until I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
“Fine,” Gregori said, his tone mild. “Then come with us tonight when we go to this dock we were told of. If our renegade shows up, you can tell us once and for all if it is this Kesh or not. And either way, we will have him, and you can present him to the Queen.”
“Alive or dead, your choice,” Alexei added generously.
“Fine,” Beka agreed. “But how do you know that your informant didn’t just go running off to warn the man he spoke to you about as soon as you left?”
Alexei gazed innocently at the ceiling. “We might possibly have found a deep hole to drop him in. You know, temporarily. Just until we took care of this business.”
At Beka’s startled look, Gregori added, “Don’t worry, Beka. We’ll go back and fetch him out later.”
“If we don’t get busy and forget,” Alexei said with a laugh. “He really was a very nasty creature.”
Beka sighed. This wasn’t turning out exactly the way she’d planned. But at least after tonight, she’d know, for better or for worse. She only hoped that Chewie was wrong, and it didn’t turn out that her one friend was really her enemy after all.
* * *
“IT’S TOO BAD Mikhail isn’t here,” Alexei said in what passed for a whisper with him. It wasn’t very quiet, but so far, no one had come anywhere near the bluff where they were situated, well above the dock, but with a clear view and an easy path they could use to descend upon the area if their guy ever showed. “He’d love this part. Skulking is one of his favorite things. Although I’ve never understood how he manages to hide so well while wearing white from head to toe.”
“Hmm,” Gregori muttered in his much softer voice. “I don’t understand what is keeping him. It isn’t like Day to miss a party. Or to let down a Baba Yaga when one needs him.”
Beka nodded. She was starting to get worried about their missing Rider too. But at the moment, she had much more urgent matters on her mind. Please don’t be Kesh, she thought. Please don’t be Kesh.
She’d already lost Marcus. She didn’t think she could handle losing Kesh too. Even if she didn’t even really want him. She was so confused. Maybe she just didn’t want to have been that wrong about someone she cared for.
“Look,” Gregori said, pointing one slim finger down toward the road. A Mercedes SUV came slowly down the rutted path that led toward the deserted warehouse. It paused briefly by the dock itself, where a medium-sized man wearing expensive clothes and a disgruntled expression climbed out. He looked around and appeared even unhappier at not seeing whatever or whoever he was expecting, then opened the back of his vehicle and half rolled, half carried two canisters onto the splintery wooden surface. They weren’t particularly large, but they must have been heavy, if his muttered grunts and curses were anything to go by.
He waited there for another long moment, then climbed back into his vehicle and backed it partway up the path again, obviously preparing to wait in greater comfort, or perhaps not wanting to be in the company of the canisters for any longer than was necessary. Or both.
“Is that him?” Beka whispered. She felt a brief burst of relief; that guy looked nothing like Kesh. He was too old, for one thing, and too pudgy to ever be mistaken for Kesh’s whipcord slimness. Maybe Chewie had been wrong after all.
Gregori shook his head, one finger to his lips to remind them to be quiet. His reply was barely more than a breath on the quiet night air. “Not him. Must be he is meeting our guy.”
As if on cue, a low sound cut through the silence. Little more than a mechanical purr, it heralded the arrival of a glossy black motorboat, low-slung and fancy, like the ones used by smugglers and pirates on bad TV shows. Maybe it was that kind of association that made Beka imagine an ominous, dangerous look to the boat and its occupant. But maybe not. A shiver ran down her spine, for all that the night was warm and pleasant.
Next to her, she could feel Alexei growl happily, always more comfortable with action than with waiting, but Gregori put a restraining hand on his gigantic bicep.
“Wait until he is out of the boat. We don’t want him to spot us and run away.”
Beka nodded. They had a boat of their own, procured by the Riders, tied up nearby. But it would be better if they didn’t have to chase him. On the other hand, they’d already discussed the possibility of following their quarry, if it looked as though he wasn’t the man they sought, so she’d prepared the boat with a “silence and invisibility” spell, just in case.
She held her breath, but the man just sat there, unmoving. His boat rocked gently, its polished ebony rubbing against the faded wood of the dock, making tiny creaking noises in the almost silent night. The nearly full moon didn’t cast enough light for them to be able to make out his face, since the boat itself sat in the shadow of the old, falling-down warehouse.
Get out of the damned boat, Beka thought to the figure below. Get out and let us see you.
* * *
CHARLIE KELLY SHIFTED restlessly from one foot to the other as he waited for the diver to disembark from his black speedboat. But the guy just sat there, his craft butted up against the dock, his dark eyes seeming to reflect the night’s eerie stillness.
What the hell was this? Was this ass playing games with him? Charlie had gotten a message, tucked under his windshield wiper in the supposedly well-guarded parking lot of the power plant, telling him to come tonight to meet his contact. Not asking him, mind, but telling.
Meet me at the usual spot. Midnight. Alone. For our mutual best interests.
That was all the note had said. Terse and unforthcoming, just like the man who had written it. Charlie had been so pissed, he’d seriously considered not going. After all, he was the boss in this relationship. Not some flunky to jump just because a hired hand told him to.
But in the end, it was less the contents of the note than whe
re he’d found it that had convinced him. Not just under the wiper of his car—bad enough the guy knew which car was his—but in the lot at the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Plant, behind barbed wire walls and electronic gates and armed guards. That could have meant it was an inside job. But Charlie ran the place. He knew every face of every employee who had ever walked through those gates, and the man at the end of the dock wasn’t one of his.
Which meant instead that either the guy had some connection inside that Charlie didn’t know about, or that he could somehow magically walk through walls. Charlie had the uneasy feeling he’d been played. Still, he’d had to show up to find out what the diver wanted, since the man clearly knew a lot more about Charlie than Charlie knew about him.
Finally tired of waiting, Charlie hunched his shoulders against the cool ocean breeze, got out of his car, and walked down to the dock. Two more canisters—all he could easily move by himself—already sat down there. It was too late for this nonsense. His wife thought he was out playing poker with some buddies, but he’d have to be home soon or she’d start suspecting him of sleeping around or something. The last thing he needed right now was anyone asking him suspicious questions, even his wife. Hell, especially his wife. The woman could be like a bulldog once she got her teeth into something.
“I hope you’re not planning to ask me for more money,” Charlie said, not bothering with polite hellos. People who stuck cryptic notes under windshield wipers didn’t get polite. “I’m already paying you more than I should be.”
One elegant eyebrow rose lazily. “Really?” the diver said, his Irish accent even heavier than usual. Probably because he’d figured out it annoyed the shit out of Charlie. “You t’ink that you are overpaying me to carry your poison down into the sea? Perhaps you would like to procure the services of another to do so for you.” The arrogant smirk lurking around the corners of his lips said he knew just how difficult that would be.
Bite me. Charlie didn’t say it out loud, though, as much as he wanted to. Finding another diver who was capable of going down to the depths of the hidden trench to dispose of the canisters where they wouldn’t be found—and who was willing to handle nuclear waste, no matter how safely it was packaged—would be a tall order indeed. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to let the guy rip him off. After all, if he turned Charlie in to the authorities, he’d be in trouble too.
“What do you want?” Charlie asked, feeling weary. Just another five years, and he could take his bonuses and retire to the Caribbean, where most of the money was already socked away. Then the plant, all those people’s jobs, and the damned government regulations could be somebody else’s problem. “Your note said something about our mutual best interests?”
The diver’s smile grew a smidgeon broader and somehow more sinister. It suddenly occurred to Charlie that maybe it hadn’t been all that smart to come to this lonely spot in the middle of the night all by himself.
“I am afraid that the word mutual may have been something of a falsehood,” the other man said, stepping gracefully onto the dock. “’Tis only my own interests that bring us together this night. You see, I have decided that I have no further need of your toxic refuse; what you have given me already has more than done its job.”
Charlie gaped at him. What the hell was the man talking about?
An effortless stride brought the diver close enough that Charlie could smell the fish on his breath, although Charlie barely saw him move.
“And if I have no need of your poison, I have no need of you,” the diver said, his voice as calm as if they discussed a favorite show or the best way to get from the highway to the nearest Denny’s. “Which, alas, makes you more of a liability than an asset. You Humans, so undependable. You understand; I simply cannot take the risk.”
Charlie felt a sudden sharp pain, like indigestion, only more intense, and looked down in amazement to see a long, thin knife protruding from his chest. No, not a knife, he thought muzzily as his knees buckled. It looked more like a tusk of some kind, or the barb from a swordfish.
He barely felt the diver scoop him up and toss him into the bottom of the boat, the deadly canisters following him in with a dull thud. The last thing he heard as the cold crept into his bones were the sweet notes of an old Irish lullaby about a sailor going to his final rest in the deep blue sea, sung by the man who’d just murdered him.
* * *
BEKA SAW THE man collapse, be caught in strong arms, then slung carelessly into the boat. There was a flash of moonlight on silver, and the canisters went in after him. A throaty roar of a motor, and their quarry was on his way. The glaring headlights of the abandoned Mercedes lit an empty dock.
“What the hell happened?” she asked no one in particular. “Did that guy faint?”
“Sure,” Alexei said, grabbing her hand and dragging her rapidly down the slope to where their own transport awaited. “Right after he was stabbed. Being killed will do that to you.”
Gregori lifted her gracefully into the boat and set off after the other vessel with the ease of one who had spent centuries handling every different type of transportation there was. Beka noticed with a numb sort of gratitude that her spell seemed to be working just fine; the boat they were in moved swiftly and silently, like a ghost upon the ocean.
“Killed,” she repeated.
“I’m afraid so,” Gregori said, steering through the night like a hunter unerringly tracking his prey.
Gregori looked at her, something like pity in his dark eyes, shining under the cold gaze of the moon. “So, was that your friend Kesh?”
Beka swallowed hard. Nodded. There had been no mistaking him, his proud carriage, the narrow arch of his nose, the shape of his sleek head. Once he’d walked into the beam of the headlights, she knew him instantly. “Yes. It was Kesh. Not my friend, apparently.”
“Do not worry, my little Baba,” Alexei said, sounding unusually grim. “I will tear him limb from limb for you. By the time I am done, there will be nothing left but scraps for the rats to feast on.”
As much as she appreciated the sentiment, the imagery that came with it, coupled with the movement of the boat on the waves, didn’t do anything good for Beka’s already roiling stomach.
“I think we’d better keep him in one piece to give to the Queen,” she said. “But if he happens to acquire a couple of bruises along the way, I won’t complain.”
Gregori flashed her a bloodthirsty edge of a smile, slowing the boat to a crawl, and then to a halt as they spotted Kesh’s boat ahead, its streamlined shape a dark blot against an only slightly less dark sky.
“Baba? A little light would help, if you would,” said Gregori.
Oh, right. Magic. Duh. Beka focused on what she needed and gestured with both hands, creating a clear-seeing bubble around her and the two Riders. It enabled them to see out across the water as if someone had turned on a low-glowing lamp, but wouldn’t be visible from the outside. By, say, a murderous Selkie prince.
They all looked out across the expanse of restless waves, Beka hiding her shaking hands between her knees so the others couldn’t see how much even that relatively simple magical act had taken out of her. Made more difficult by the ocean that surrounded them, but still, it shouldn’t have taken that much energy. She peered around, trying to figure out where they were. They’d come from a different direction than the one she usually took on the Wily Serpent, but based on the distance from shore and the shape of the distant city lights, she thought they weren’t too far off from where she’d been diving all those days. What were the odds?
“Is something wrong, Baba?” Alexei asked.
She gave a short chuckle, decidedly lacking in humor. “You mean besides discovering that the man I’ve been having dinner with almost every night is a cold-blooded killer who is apparently leading some kind of paranormal guerrilla war against Humans and threatening the safety of all the water-dwelling magical creatures, not to mention my job?”
“Yes,” Alexei said perfectly seriously.
“Besides that.”
“Well, it just occurred to me that my two problems might not be as unrelated as I thought.”
Gregori lifted an eyebrow.
Beka pointed out toward Kesh’s boat, where a dark figure was poised at the port side, slowly lowering the two canisters and what looked like a bulky, rolled-up sail into the water. Once they’d disappeared beneath the surface, Kesh dived in after them, his Human-shaped body cleaving the water neatly with barely a splash. After a moment, a sleek seal head bobbed into view then vanished under the waves with a flash of a ruffled tail.
“So?” Gregori said. “He is dumping the body and whatever is in those containers.”
“Yes, but it is where he is dumping them that makes me think he might be involved with whatever is destroying the Selkies’ and Merpeople’s home waters, and making their people ill,” she said. “I can’t be certain, of course, but I am fairly sure that we are right above the trench where the contamination began.”
“So whatever is in those containers . . .” Gregori’s eyebrow rose even further.
“May very well hold the answers I need,” Beka said. “The problem is, if he is taking them down as far as the bottom of the trench, I can’t dive that far. I’ve gone down as far as I could and didn’t see anything, but he must be tucking them away in some hidden spot. The Selkies and Merpeople looked for anything unusual before they had to abandon their homes, but they are too frightened to go back and search any further.”
“Do you want us to try and grab him when he comes back up?” Alexei asked, always happy to take the direct route. “We could beat on him until he tells us where he hid the rest.”
Gregori snorted. “Use what little brains you have, my large friend. Trying to hold a Selkie on the ocean would be as much use as trying to hold a sunbeam on a clear day. To catch this one, we will have to wait until he is on land.”
“Oh, right,” Alexei said. “Then what will you do, Baba?”
Wickedly Wonderful Page 24
