Wickedly Wonderful

by Deborah Blake

  “Here,” his da said, opening a cooler. “I thought we might want this.” He pulled out a bottle of champagne and three plastic cups. His smile wavered a bit around the edges, but he was clearly doing his best to put aside his usual crusty, growling demeanor, so it seemed like Marcus should do the same.

  “Great,” he said again.

  Beka winced, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the champagne—a staple at Kesh’s seaside picnics, so she’d said—or because his “happy voice” was unconvincing in the extreme. Overhead, a passing gull dropped a load of guano, missing him by inches. Fabulous—even nature was critiquing his efforts.

  “Great,” she echoed, not sounding any more sincere than he had. Luckily, his da didn’t appear to notice, and took up his cup in a shaky hand when Marcus poured them each a tiny bit.

  “To Beka,” Marcus Senior said. “The heroine of the hour.”

  Beka blushed a becoming pink tint that stained her cheeks and accented her bright blue eyes. “Oh, please. I am not.”

  Marcus’s father nodded his head. “You are, young lady, and in more ways than one. You saved those sea people’s homes from poisonous radiation, which was nothing short of a miracle from where I’m standin’. You brought the fish back to where they belonged, which is going to save a lot of people here on land.” He gave her a tremulous grin, rusty from disuse. “And you helped me and my boy here reconnect, which I reckon was an even bigger miracle.”

  “Hey,” Beka protested, waving her hands. “You guys did that yourself. I don’t get any credit for that one.”

  “Yes, but you kept us from killing each other long enough to do it,” Marcus Senior said, winking at her.

  “You can’t deny the truth of that, Beka,” Marcus said. And neither could he. The fact was, he and his father were barely speaking to each other at the point when she’d appeared out of the sea like a mythic goddess sprung from the waves. Somehow just by having her around, they’d both been transformed into kinder, less aggressive versions of themselves. Beka did that to people, and that was the biggest miracle of all.

  “You brought the light back to this boat after too many years of darkness,” his da said, raising his glass to Beka again. “I thank you for that, and for brightening up my last days upon the earth.”

  They all fell silent, the specter of the old man’s illness hanging over their attempt at celebration like a ghost at a wedding feast.

  “It has been my pleasure,” Beka said, getting up and giving his da a hug. The old sailor actually looked pleased, which was almost as shocking as his toast had been.

  “Speaking of darkness,” Marcus said, all the naked emotion making him twitch worse than a hill full of snipers. “That sky is looking pretty ominous. I’d better get us headed into port before we are hit by a storm and get sent to the bottom, taking all that nasty radiation right back down there.”

  He headed for the cabin to start the engines, and as he walked rapidly away, he heard his father say, “That boy sure is cranky. I can’t imagine where he got that from.”

  Beka’s laughter pealed out over the sea like clarion bells in a church, calling the faithful to worship.

  * * *

  BACK AT THE bus, Beka and Chewie stared at the radiant globe on the table between them. It pulsed and shone as if a shard of the sun had been captured within it, looking so glorious it was hard to believe its contents offered death instead of life.

  “So that’s it,” Chewie said, sounding pensive. “Mission accomplished. Day saved. Live to fight another battle. And like that.”

  “Pretty much,” Beka said, trying to muster up the appropriate enthusiasm. “All I have to do is take that through to the Otherworld, make my report to the Queen, then go tell Boudicca and Gwrtheyrn it is safe for them to go home. Then life gets back to normal.”

  “Great,” Chewie said.

  “Yeah. Great.” She sighed.

  “So, no more long days stuck out on the boat with Marcus and his father,” Chewie added. “You must be so relieved.” She couldn’t decide if he was being sarcastic or not. With dragons, it was often hard to tell.

  “Right. Definitely.” She thought about no more days filled with overlarge fishermen, bantering arguments, or sacks full of coins handed over to wily curmudgeons. No more teasing Kenny about his freckles, or listening to Chico brag in loving detail about his large family back home in Mexico. No salty breezes blowing through her hair as she sat on the bow with Marcus next to her, telling her ridiculous stories of the fish that got away to make her laugh. No watching hazel eyes turn from brown to green to amber in the midday sun as they hauled in nets or polished the fittings or sat in the dinghy waiting to be picked up by the Wily Serpent on its way back in to dock.

  No, she wasn’t going to miss any of that at all.

  “I think we should go away,” Beka said abruptly. “After all, Baba Yagas are supposed to travel around. What’s the point of living in a bus if you always stay in one place?”

  “But I thought you hated moving around all the time,” Chewie said, his furry face perplexed. “You were ecstatic when Brenna finally settled us here for a while. And Baba Yagas travel when they get a magical summons that tells them they are needed somewhere. Did you get a vibe and not tell me?”

  “No,” Beka said. “No vibe. I just thought it might be good to have a change of scenery.” She didn’t know if she could face staying here without Marcus nearby. Once his father was gone—one way or the other—Marcus would be gone too. He’d told her from the start that he’d never intended to stay. As soon as his father no longer needed him, he would be on his way to whatever his life held next, leaving the Bay just too empty for Beka to contemplate.

  There was no way she was going to try and explain all that to Chewie though. It sounded crazy even to her. Who knew love made so little sense? No wonder Humans wrote all those sad songs about it. From now on, she was sticking to paranormal creatures and meaningless trysts. It was a lot easier on the heart.

  “I’m going to go get changed so I can visit the Queen,” she said, jumping up from the table. “I won’t be able to relax until I’ve gotten through my obligatory visit without being turned into something with feathers, scales, or thorns.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with scales,” Chewie called after her as she walked toward the bedroom. “And don’t forget to take your Orb o’ Death with you—that thing gives me the willies.”

  * * *

  BEKA BREATHED A sigh of relief as she stepped back through the closet that hid the doorway between the Human realm and the Otherworld. Tiny purple sparkles swirled around her feet as she crossed the border, and high-pitched giggles like silvery wind chimes followed her for a moment before disappearing into the distance. She shut the door behind her and put her back against it. She had the utmost respect for the Queen of the Otherworld—but holy crap, that was one scary lady.

  Still, the Queen and her consort had seemed quite pleased with Beka’s report and her solutions to the problem. The Queen had even invited her to stay for high tea, an hours-long ritual involving dozens of stunningly beautiful ladies-in-waiting in gauzy dresses, exotic tea blends served in elaborately bejeweled golden teapots and poured into porcelain cups so delicate you could see through them, and dainty cakes so light that occasionally one simply floated away.

  Beka rather enjoyed the spectacle of it all, basking in the Queen’s rare approval, but in the end she was happy to return home without having broken anything or spilled bright crimson jam onto her white lace court dress with its low neckline, flowing sleeves, and tiny embroidered flowers. Other than a small mishap with a couple of errant cloth rosebuds that forgot they were merely decorative in the heady atmosphere of the Otherworld, she’d come through the entire experience no worse for wear.

  Now she planned to hang up her ornamental sword, take off this lovely but impractical outfit, slip into some jeans, and pour herself a glass of wine. She’d had enough tea to last her a month.

  Humming some ha
unting but catchy tune the court musicians had played during tea, Beka meandered out into the main area of the bus to put the pure silver sword back onto its empty rack before changing her clothes. Always take care of your weapon first, even if it was never used for anything more lethal than attending a fancy dress ball, so she’d been taught.

  “Hey, Beka, look who’s here,” Chewie said cheerfully as she entered the living room. “It’s Marcus.”

  She dropped the sword on the floor with a melodious clang. Stooping to pick it up, she hoped the dim interior would hide her burning cheeks. While she’d been gone, the storm had hit in earnest, and the sky outside was almost as dark as night. Inside the bus, only a few lamps glowed warm against the fury of the gusting winds and driving rain.

  Marcus had been lounging on the futon, drinking a beer and looking way too at home for Beka’s peace of mind. His hair was damp from the rain, and the rumpled forest-colored shirt he wore brought out the green in his eyes, which glinted when he saw her.

  “Wow,” he said, standing up so fast he almost spilled his beer. He set it down on the floor with a thump. “You look incredible.”

  The open admiration on his face made her heart beat even faster. “Thanks,” she said. “I was at court, visiting the Queen. She isn’t a big fan of hippie-dippy tie-dyed skirts and tank tops.”

  One corner of Marcus’s mouth curved up. “Neither am I. Unless you’re the one wearing them.”

  “I’ll just, um, go for a walk in this nice rain, shall I?” Chewie said, heading for the door. Beka barely heard him go.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Marcus quietly, putting the sword down on the counter and taking a couple of hesitant steps forward. “I would have thought you’d be spending the rest of the day with your father. Or has he chosen not to take the Selkies up on their offer?”

  He shook his head. “As far as I know, he hasn’t made the decision yet. I tried to talk to him about it and he just muttered something about having important errands to run and bolted for the door.” He gave a short laugh. “I suspect he was headed straight for the Cranky Seagull, where men are men and emotions aren’t allowed.”

  “Ah,” Beka said. “None of that namby-pamby communication crap for you stalwart fishermen types, is that it?”

  “Something like that, yeah,” Marcus said. He stared at her across the foot or more of wooden floorboards that separated them, but made no move to get any closer. Of course, a lot more separated them than physical space, and they both knew it.

  “So what are you doing here?” she asked, suddenly too tired to play their usual games. If he’d come to say good-bye, she wanted to get it over with as fast as possible—like pulling a Band-Aid off of a cut. Only multiplied by a power of a hundred.

  Figuring there wasn’t much point to pretending to be normal anymore, she snapped her fingers and a glass of wine manifested out of the air. She took a long swallow.

  “Neat trick,” Marcus said, not even fazed. “And I came to say thank you.”

  Beka blinked and took another drink. “Thank you for what?” she asked. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. I never could have done all this without your help. You know, even without the part where you saved my life and beat the crap out of the evil prince.” She mustered up a grin. “That was my favorite bit, by the way.”

  “Mine too,” Marcus said with sincerity. “It was my freaking pleasure.” He scowled at her glass. “That isn’t champagne, is it?”

  Beka shuddered. “Goddess, no. I may never drink the stuff again. Although it was really sweet of your father to bring some out today to celebrate my success. I can’t believe he did that.”

  “Me either,” Marcus said. “That’s part of what I came to thank you for. He’s really changed since you’ve been around, and no matter what happens, I’m grateful for the chance to have made my peace with him.”

  “That would have happened anyway,” she said, making her nearly empty glass vanish back to where it had come from. The conversation was making her head spin enough all by itself.

  “I don’t think so, Beka,” he said, taking a step forward and gazing into her eyes. “I don’t think you understand the power you have.”

  “What? Of course I do. I’m a Baba Yaga; I’m all about the power.” She wondered if she should pop in an entire vineyard, if the single glass wasn’t enough to impress him.

  That crooked smile she loved so much snuck up on her and mugged her heart. “I’m not talking about your Baba magic, although I admit, that’s pretty damned impressive. I’m talking about your own personal magic,” Marcus said, his tone softer than usual.

  “You have this amazing ability to make the people around you blossom into their best possible selves; you make people want to be better, to do better, just so you’ll give them that smile full of sunshine that you get when someone has done something nice.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beka said. She moved a little closer, as if drawn by a magnet that connected his soul to hers. “I don’t do that.”

  “You do though,” Marcus said, suddenly right in front of her. He was so tall, so large, he should have felt intimidating. But she only felt sheltered by his nearness, a solid bulwark against the harsh realities of the storm that raged both inside and out.

  “You don’t even see it, but everyone you touch is happier because of you. Poor Kenny was so shy; he couldn’t bring himself to say two words to a woman. But you were kind to him, you made him feel strong and confident, and he actually asked out this waitress he’s liked for years. They’re going on their second date tonight.

  “And Chico, he’s been missing his family so much, but he always felt like he had to work here to send money back home, and because he’s illegal, he never dared to go back to visit. Talking to you all those times about his daughters, and the grandchildren he’s never met, he finally decided to go back to Mexico. I was able to get him a job down there with one of my Marine buddies who opened a hotel in Mazatlan after he got out.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Beka said. “But they would have done those things eventually anyway, if they really wanted them.”

  “I don’t think so, Beka,” Marcus said, putting one hand gently under her chin and tipping her face up so she couldn’t look away. “Because you made me a better person, too, and I would have said that was as impossible a task as cleaning radiation out of the ocean. When I left the Marines, I had been a killing machine for twelve years. It felt like I was some kind of monster, masquerading as a normal human being.”

  She made an inarticulate sound of protest, but he shook his head.

  “I went through the motions, but something inside me was broken, I thought forever. I’d loved being in the Marines, but the endless war and death and the constant need to look over my shoulder made it impossible for me to stay. But what it had done to my soul had rendered me unsuitable for any other kind of life.

  “You changed all that. I’m not even sure how, but you showed me the way back to myself. I may not be a perfect human being, but at least now I feel like I have a chance of becoming someone I can face in the mirror every morning. So I had to come and say thank you, before we disappear out of each other’s lives forever.”

  The thought of it made the room seem unbearably cold, and she moved forward without thinking, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. The thump of his heartbeat steadied her whirling thoughts and focused them on one suddenly clear and undeniable aim—to make love to Marcus one more time, no matter what came after.

  THIRTY

  BEKA PUT HER head on his chest, and something inside Marcus turned to molten fire. It was crazy the way she affected him; he couldn’t even be in the same room with her without feeling the need to kiss her, touch her, hold her. Having her this close and not doing those things was just impossible. Suddenly his plan to go off and lead adventure tours seemed a lot less inviting.

  A loud crash of thunder rocked the bus, and the lights flicke
red briefly, then went out.

  “Shit,” Marcus said.

  Beka giggled and snapped her fingers, and candles burst into flame all over the bus. Fat red candles on windowsills, slim silver candles on tables, honey-scented beeswax candles on what was probably an altar. Light glimmered from tiny tea lights and tall tapers, casting mysterious shadows and making the bus into a cozy refuge from the storm.

  Huh. Maybe this witchcraft thing had something going for it after all.

  Marcus grinned down at Beka, who looked deservedly pleased with herself. “Nice trick,” he said. “What else you got?”

  She cocked her head to one side for a moment, thinking, and then reached up to kiss him softly, biting his bottom lip playfully when she was done. Marcus almost forgot to breathe, undone by the sheer glory that was Beka.

  She seemed to be having a tough time breathing, too, blue eyes dilated and wide. “Your turn,” she said. “Surely you know a magic trick or two.”

  He grinned and scooped her up, tossing her onto the futon and then pulling it out into a bed with her still riding along. She shrieked with surprise, giggling up at him in an irresistible combination of innocence and smoldering sexiness that went right to his head. He flopped down next to her, kissing her neck and wandering up to nibble on her earlobe.

  “I learned that one from you,” he whispered in her ear. “But I’ve got a few tricks of my own that I’ll be happy to show you.”

  Thunder shook the bus, echoing the pounding of his heart as he sat up and slowly unfastened every button on the front of her white lace dress. There must have been thirty or forty of them, all tiny and slippery under his large fingers, but he didn’t care; what lay beneath was worth the wait. He stared into her eyes as he went, loving the way she watched him back, clearly wanting him as much as he wanted her.

  Finally, he slid the dress off of her, revealing all that enticing, tanned, soft, silky skin. No bra restrained the full, pale mounds of her breasts, and he smiled at that, leaning down to suckle gently at their rosy tips.