“Our people, Father?” Kesh spat, yanking his arms free so that he stood alone on the sand. “They ceased to be our people the day you stole my birthright and gave it to my younger brother.” He spat on the ground. “You are a foolish old man who allows puny Humans to lay waste to our seas and decimate the dolphins and the sharks who are our brothers. You and the other weaklings that follow you would have lost that land eventually; I merely accelerated the process.”
“For what gain?” his father asked, fists clenched in frustrated rage. “To what end?”
Kesh shrugged. “I thought at first that I would persuade many of the Selkies and Mer who had been forced to leave their homes to follow me instead. When they did not, I took the few who were wise enough to listen to be my new subjects, and sat back to watch the rest of you die. You turned your back on me, so I turned mine on you. It was only fitting.”
“Fitting?” Boudicca sputtered. “Fitting to kill babies and old people because your father decided that you were unsuitable to rule? He did not banish you from the kingdom; you did that to yourself, leaving when matters did not spin in the direction you wished. You are a spoiled child, for all your age, and you would never have been half the ruler Gwrtheyrn is, or your brother will be.”
Gwrtheyrn shook his head, eyeing his eldest son with something almost approaching pity. “Do you not see, Kesh? All you have done is to prove that I was right: You are not nor could you ever be a proper king. A king cares for his people, and you care only for yourself.”
The old King heaved a sigh, turning away from his son to face Beka, his movements heavy and slow. “Might I ask one more favor of you, Baba Yaga?”
Beka braced herself. “I cannot set him free, Gwrtheyrn. I know he is your son, but he must face the Queen’s justice. She has commanded it, and I would not dare do otherwise.”
Gwrtheyrn gave a harsh barking laugh. “Nor I, Baba Yaga. Nor I.” He didn’t look at Kesh at all; it was as though the younger Selkie had suddenly become invisible. “I do not wish to circumvent his punishment. He deserves everything she chooses to mete out and more. But as you say, he is my son, and therefore my responsibility.”
The sadness in his deep black eyes almost undid Beka, but she could see what it cost him to stay strong in front of her and Marcus, and so she forced herself to sound as calm as he did.
“I see,” she said softly. “You want to bring him to the Queen yourself.”
“It is my duty and my shame,” the King said. “I will not shirk it.”
Beka rubbed her hand across her face, pondering his request. She had really been looking forward to taking Kesh to the Queen of the Otherworld herself, throwing him down at the Queen’s feet in a grand gesture of triumph that would demonstrate her worthiness to be a Baba Yaga.
But the Queen had only demanded that the traitor be brought to her; not who did the bringing. She would hear from Gwrtheyrn that Beka had been responsible for Kesh’s capture and know that Beka had fulfilled that part of her assignment.
Gazing at the furious and heartbroken King of the Selkies, she knew he needed to do this—needed it even more than she did.
She looked at Marcus and he nodded, clearly agreeing.
“Very well,” she said, with only a tiny pang of regret. “You may take him. See that he reaches the Queen alive.” She glanced over at Kesh, who curled his lip and sneered at her. “Although if he collects a few more bruises along the way, well, the water passage can be rough, I hear.”
Still ignoring his son, Gwrtheyrn gestured for his guards to come and take custody of Kesh, who was dragged away cursing voluminously and with greater imagination than Beka would have given him credit for. She suspected this was the last time she would ever see him. The Queen of the Otherworld was not known for her forgiving nature.
“You have earned the boon we promised you, Baba Yaga,” Boudicca said. “Have you aught to request from us? Perhaps a chest of precious jewels, or ancient coins reclaimed from the broken ships that lie upon the floor of the sea?”
Beka shook her head. “Neither of those, thank you, although I appreciate the offer.” She took a deep breath. “What I would really like is for you to make sure that the fish go back to where they belong, so that men like Marcus’s father can make an honest living doing the thing they love.”
Boudicca nodded gravely. “Easy enough to do, and little enough to ask after all that you have done for our people. Are you sure you desire nothing for yourself?”
Beka shook her head. She had almost everything she could wish for—and the only other thing she wanted, they didn’t have the power to give her.
“I am well satisfied, Your Majesty. After all, I was merely doing my duty as a Baba Yaga. I expect nothing in return for that.”
She expected the royals to leave, but Gwrtheyrn apparently had one more thing to say. He bowed low to Marcus, much lower than she would ever expect from a Selkie King facing a Human commoner. Boudicca came to stand again by his elbow and gave a small curtsy of her own.
“I am told by the Baba Yaga’s Chudo-Yudo that we owe you a debt of gratitude as well, fisherman,” the King said gravely. “He says that you have been of much assistance to the Baba in her search for the answers to our problem.” He eyed the knife slices in Marcus’s clothing and the fading remnants of the bruises on his knuckles. “And it is clear that you came to her aid in apprehending Kesh as well.”
His voice only broke a little when he said his son’s name, and everyone there carefully ignored it.
Marcus bowed back, only a tad awkwardly. “It was my pleasure, sir. No thanks required.”
Gwrtheyrn pursed his lips. “Perhaps not, but you have them nonetheless. We promised the Baba three boons for her service to our people; one of these to be given to the person of her choice. Clearly, you have earned that boon and there is, perhaps, a way we could repay you, if you wish.”
Marcus gave Beka a puzzled look, but she just lifted her eyebrows. She had no more idea what was going on than he did.
Boudicca cleared her throat. “The Chudo-Yudo told us of all you did. He also told us of your father’s illness. The one Humans call cancer.”
Beka could feel Marcus stiffen beside her. “Yes, my father is ill. But Beka—uh, the Baba Yaga—has already told me that she can’t give him the Water of Life and Death.”
“You misunderstand,” the King said. “We have an offer of a different sort. You see, we water folk do not have this cancer; it is not an affliction that affects such as us.”
“That’s nice,” Marcus said. “But what does that have to do with my father?”
“There is a Selkie magic,” Gwrtheyrn explained, gazing at Marcus with something less than his usual stern expression. “It can change a Human into one of us. I have consulted my wisest and most learned healers, and it is their opinion that such a change might well eradicate the cancer now plaguing your father.”
Marcus’s mouth gaped open. Beka couldn’t tell what he was thinking, beyond his obvious shock at the suggestion.
The King held up a cautionary hand. “You must understand, there is no guarantee that such a thing would work. It is merely our best supposition. And the change is irreversible. Should your father choose to become one of us, there could be no going back. And he would not have the ability to transform from seal to man. This is something that must be learned when one is young, or not at all. Once a Selkie, he would never be able to walk on land again. But he might live a long and healthy life, and our people would welcome him.”
“I—I don’t know what to say,” Marcus said in a strangled tone.
“It is not a small thing to take in, I understand,” the King said, not unkindly. “The decision is not an easy one, and your father must choose for himself. But we would gladly grant this gift, should he decide that he wishes it.”
Beka grimaced in sympathy at the shocked expression on Marcus’s face and bowed politely to Gwrtheyrn and Boudicca. “It is a generous offer, Your Majesty, and kindly meant. We thank you fo
r it.”
Belatedly, Marcus added his own, “Uh, yeah, thanks.”
“It is the least we could do, after all that you have given to us, who are not your people or even your own race,” the King said.
He turned to Beka. “We will return here tomorrow night to hear the tale of your attempt to cleanse our waters. It is fervently hoped that the results will be successful, but either way, we are most grateful for your efforts on our behalf, and for healing our sick.” He gave her a serious look. “We had the utmost faith in you, Baba Yaga, even when you doubted yourself. So far, you have more than proven yourself worthy of the title.”
Beka flushed, pleased beyond measure by his words, while at the same time trying not to panic about the possibility of failing at the next part of her task.
“I endeavor to do my best,” she said. “And it is my pleasure to serve.”
They all bowed one more time, and the King and Queen and their guards turned to head back into the sea.
“We will be here at the downing of the sun tomorrow,” Gwrtheyrn said over one bulky shoulder. “If your father wishes to join us, fisherman, he should attend us then. If the Baba Yaga can cure the waters as she cured my people, I suspect it will be long and longer before we come this way again.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
ALONE ON THE beach with Beka, Marcus sat down on a large rock. It had been a long day, but he wasn’t quite ready to go home yet. If nothing else, he had to figure out how on earth he was going to explain the Selkie King’s offer to his father. Obviously he was going to have to start with something along the lines of, “Oh, by the way, Da, Selkies are real,” and move on from there. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to tell his father about the offer.
“How are you doing?” Beka asked softly, sitting down next to him. Her voice seemed to harmonize with the sound of the waves hitting the shore and the calls of the night birds as they winged on their way to their nests. Now that she was healthy again, she had regained her usual glow, the blond hair he loved so much loose now from its braid and falling in a shimmering wave down her back.
Marcus shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. It had already been the most bizarre day in my entire life. And now this.” He gazed at her in the near darkness, her lovely face made eerie by the rising nearly-full moon and the faint light from passing cars on the road above. “Things have certainly gotten interesting since I met you, Beka.”
She winced. “Interesting good? Or interesting as in the ancient Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times’?”
He gave her a rueful smile. “A little bit of both, I guess.” They sat in silence for a minute, and he hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings, but he wasn’t going to lie to her and pretend that this was easy for him. He suspected she wouldn’t believe him if he said it was.
“So what’s bothering you right now?” she finally asked. “Clearly something is. I’d like to help, if I can.” She put one hand on his bare arm, and the warmth of her skin touching his moved him more than he could say. It was as if all the caring and passion between them had been summed up in that one simple gesture. But he just wasn’t in the right frame of mind to appreciate it right now.
“It was bad enough to discover that there are really such things as magic and Merpeople and Selkies,” he said. “I’m not sure I could deal with having a father who was one.”
Beka gazed into his eyes. Even in the near darkness, those blue irises were vivid and clear like sapphires, able to see through his surface fears down to the soul underneath.
“Which are you more afraid of?” she asked. There was no judgment in her voice. “That he will decide to take the King up on the chance to live life as a Selkie? Or that he won’t?”
“I’ll lose him either way,” Marcus said, bitterness lying on his tongue like acid. “The chemotherapy has stopped working, and the doctors say there isn’t anything else they can do.”
He was surprised to find out how deeply he cared. Somehow during his days on the boat, sharing close quarters with the father he thought he’d hate forever, he’d come to terms with his anger and resentment toward the man. They would never be close, and what affection they had for each other would always have an element of strain to it, but affection there was nonetheless. And now . . . this. A choice between the devil and the deep blue sea.
“I can’t tell you how to feel,” Beka said, tucking her arm around him and leaning her head against his shoulder, so they both sat facing toward the changeable sea. “But you might want to think about this: the ocean is in your father’s blood already. Maybe he would prefer a life lived in the element he loves to the prospect of a slow death on land.”
“No matter how strange that life is?” Marcus couldn’t even wrap his mind around the possibility.
“Aren’t all things strange to us when they’re new? I’m sure that life in the Marines seemed strange in the beginning.”
She had a point. He remembered how alien it had all been, all rules and regulations, and well-ordered training. And no ocean, when that had been all he’d known his whole life. Then the military became normal, until he’d left it to come home, and had to adjust all over again.
Now the sound and the smell and the rhythms of the sea had gotten back under his skin. Just like the woman sitting next to him.
He turned to face her, pulling her in close, breathing in the scent of her and that strange, elusive hint of strawberries. One hand rose to caress the velvet of her cheek, and the other tangled in her silky hair as he bent down to press his lips against hers in a kiss that he’d intended to be gentle but that somehow turned to fiery passion as soon as their lips touched.
Her arms reached up to wrap around his neck, holding on as if she would never let go. She kissed him back with an ardor that astonished, gratified, and aroused him all at once, and for a moment, he lost himself in the kiss, and in the woman, thinking to himself, now this, this is magic.
She finally pulled away, leaving Marcus feeling as if she took all the oxygen with her as she went. The space within his arms where she had been felt strangely empty and cold.
Beka’s smile glinted at him in the darkness. “What was that for?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Marcus stood up with a sigh, handing her the box containing the Water of Life and Death and then tugging her up with him and turning them both back toward the Jeep and the complications of reality.
“I have a feeling it is going to be a long night,” he said. “And I wanted something pleasant to think about in the midst of all the craziness.”
“I could give you even more to think about, if you like,” she said in a throaty voice, and his pants were suddenly tighter than they had been. He was incredibly tempted to run away from all of his troubles and hide in the warmth of her arms. And her bed. Images flashed before his eyes of Beka, naked and lovely, smiling her bright smile, long lashes half hiding those remarkable eyes.
“Oh, believe me,” he said, barely able to form coherent words. “You just did.” He sighed again, a gusty protest against obligation and responsibility. “But I really need to get home and talk to my father.”
“I know,” Beka said. She hugged him quickly before walking him to the driver’s side.
He slid into the seat and turned the key. “So I guess you have to spend the morning figuring out how to get the radiation out of the trench. Can you really do that?”
“I think so,” Beka said. “I guess we’ll find out. Can you really talk to your father about Selkies and Merpeople and witches?”
“I think so,” Marcus said glumly. “I guess we’re going to find out.”
* * *
BEKA STOOD FOR a moment in the darkness, watching the lights of the Jeep recede into the distance. It felt symbolic somehow of what was yet to come. One way or the other, Marcus’s father would soon no longer need him. And then Marcus would leave, and she would never see him again. The very thought made the night seem colder, and the stars
less bright.
“It ain’t over until it’s over,” Chewie said, materializing out of nowhere. Beka jumped, having almost forgotten he was there. Toe-tingling kisses could do that to a girl.
“What?” she said. “You mean solving the water people’s problem? I know there’s still a lot of work to do.”
“That too,” Chewie said, “but that’s not what I was talking about.” He shook his head, rolling big brown eyes in her direction. “You need to have a little more faith.”
“I need to focus on doing my job,” she said, trying to do just that. “Speaking of which, I need you to do one last thing for me.”
He gave a dragonish snort, crisping the edges of a few nearby weeds. “If it involves chasing down a certain fisherman and sitting on him until he comes to his senses, I’m all in.”
Beka ruffled his fur, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. “No, you ninny. Not that. I’ve been thinking about those canisters Kesh put into the trench. It would be a lot easier to clean up the area if they were gone. But I can’t risk moving them by boat because we’d contaminate everything they touched. Could you bring them all up to the surface for me, if I can figure out some place to stash them until I can make an anonymous call to the authorities?”
Chewie looked longingly across the road and up the bluff to where the bus sat waiting. “I’ll do it,” he said, “but then I swear, I’m never letting the Water of Life and Death out of my sight again. This has all been way too traumatic.”
Tell me about it, Beka thought. “Fine by me,” she said. “But where the heck are we going to put that radioactive mess where it won’t hurt anyone?”
Chewie gnawed on his tail thoughtfully. “None of the canisters are leaking very badly, as far as I can tell. It was only the cumulative effect over time that caused such drastic problems for the underwater trench. Isn’t there someplace out of the way where you could put them? Preferably right on the ocean, so I can stay in dragon form the entire time?”
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