“The Queen of the Otherworld doesn’t believe in underwear?” he said, both aroused and amused by the unexpected sight.
Beka gave him a mischievous grin. “What would faeries want with underwires and thongs?” she asked, and then let out a small gasp, closing her eyes as he sucked a little harder.
They gave up on speaking after that, too enraptured by the touching and scent and the sounds of the pleasure they gave each other, small gifts of demand and response, all accompanied by the forceful, rhythmic music of the storm that seemed to rage as much within them as it did in the sky without.
Marcus explored every inch of Beka’s lovely long and supple body, marveling at each dip and curve, the gentle swell of breast and hip, the perfect indentation of her belly button, the hidden mysteries below.
And in return, she ran greedy fingers and tongue over all of him, until they were both gasping and clutching and kissing with such ardor that it seemed the candles were the smallest flame, the tiniest light in the room.
Beka shone beneath him like the ethereal luminosity of the full moon, like the sun on a perfect hot July afternoon, like hope at the end of the darkest hour. Together, it seemed that they could reach new heights that neither could have achieved alone.
Finally, finally, he sank himself deep inside her, rocking and thrusting and stroking until they reached those heights in a fiery climax of passion and glory and joy, accompanied by one final clap of thunder that seemed to rock the entire world.
As they lay together in a sprawl of damp limbs and satisfaction, the storm eased to a gentle rain, and one by one, the candles guttered out until only a few remained. Beka heaved a sigh and snuggled closer, slipping into a relaxed drowse with the hint of a smile lingering on her lips.
Marcus pulled her tight, not willing to sleep and miss a single minute of the best interlude of his entire life. Especially since he had no idea if he would ever come close to this kind of happiness ever again.
What they’d shared had been magical—more magical than dogs that were really dragons, or enchanted beings out of storybooks. But what it meant, he had no way of knowing.
Had they been saying “yes” to each other or saying good-bye?
* * *
THE RAIN EASED to a drizzle and then stopped just as the sun was going down. Beka woke after a while, looking as dazed and unsettled as he felt, and made them a dinner that neither of them tasted.
Chewie came back in as they were pushing the food around on their plates and finished off the lot, muttering dire imprecations all the while about Humans and idiocy and something that sounded like s’mores. Marcus ignored him, and Beka just patted him absently on the head, alternately smiling at nothing and frowning into space as though looking at a future she didn’t like. He had a feeling she wasn’t envisioning anything that wound up with “and they all lived happily ever after.”
He’d tried calling his father, but the phone at the house just rang and rang. So he’d stayed with Beka, feeling alternately guilty and relieved, but mostly just happy to have a few more moments in her company.
Finally, when the late summer evening drew to a close and the sun was dipping into the hills, they headed down to the beach to meet the Mer Queen and the Selkie King. Chewie stayed behind to guard the Water of Life and Death, although none of them really thought there was anyone left to come after it, now that Kesh was gone.
Gwrtheyrn and Boudicca both looked tired but hopeful as they stood on the beach, backlit by the setting sun.
“How are your people doing?” Beka asked after they’d exchanged formal greetings. “Is everyone fully recovered?”
“Completely,” the King said. “Thanks to you, Baba Yaga. Our gratitude knows no measure.”
Queen Boudicca clasped her hands together, an abbreviated version of what would have been a more frantic motion in someone less regal. “And our lands under the ocean, Baba Yaga?” she asked hesitantly. “Were you able to cleanse them?” Gwrtheyrn closed his eyes for a moment in what might have been a silent prayer.
“Yes,” Beka said simply. “Your water is free of poison or taint. You and your people can return home tonight.”
Boudicca and Gwrtheyrn looked at each other, the Queen’s eyes brimming with unshed tears, and the King suddenly returned to the vibrant, powerful being Marcus imagined he’d been before all of this started.
They both bowed deeply to Beka, and thanked her with voices that shook, their joy overflowing to cover the sands like sparkling diamonds. Behind them, their guards stayed in formation, standing straight and alert, but their fierce faces were transformed by grins into something much less threatening and much more celebratory.
“We can never thank you enough,” Gwrtheyrn said, his voice gravelly with emotion. “If there is ever aught you need from the people under the sea, you have but to ask and it will be given to you.”
A voice from behind Marcus said, “I hope that goes for me too,” and his father walked down from the dunes.
Marcus forgot to breathe, and Beka grabbed his hand, squeezing tight as if to remind him that he was not alone.
“Da,” he said. “You can’t mean it. You’re not going to let them turn you into a seal, are you?”
“A Selkie,” Gwrtheyrn corrected, and added, “Indeed, our offer to you still stands, fisherman. You are welcome to join us if you wish.”
Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but his father shook his head. “I’m dying, son, and you know it. If I stay, my ending is certain, and not a pleasant one. I would rather spend whatever time I have left living in the waters I have always loved.” He gave a genuine laugh; the first Marcus ever remembered hearing. “And whether or not the change to Selkie can cure me, I can be sure that it will be the adventure of a lifetime. How can you argue with that?”
He couldn’t, really. But Marcus was surprised to discover how much he was going to miss the old man.
“I never could win an argument with you, Da,” Marcus said, feeling emotion rising up in his throat and threatening to choke him. He walked over and gave his father a hug, the first they’d exchanged since he was a small child, trying to put everything he was feeling into the act. “I guess I’m not likely to start doing it now.”
His da hugged him back, his bones feeling as fragile and hollow as a bird’s. “Nay, that you’re not.” The older man stood back and gazed at him, although even now it was clear that half his attention was fixed on the sea beyond.
“I’m sorry I was so hard on you, son. I wasn’t a very good man, or a very good father, and there is no making up for that now,” Marcus Senior said, brushing away Marcus’s feeble attempts at denial. “But I want you to know that I’ve left you the boat; signed it over to your name this afternoon, and all that I’ve got with it, the little that there is.” He glanced from Marcus to Beka, now standing by herself on the sand in front of the King and Queen.
“You make a good life for yourself, boy. That’s all I ever wanted for you anyway. Whether you choose to stay on the water or not, find whatever makes you happy and grasp it with both hands. I love you.” He patted Marcus surprisingly gently on the cheek and walked toward the water people.
Gwrtheyrn shook out a leather pouch, and a vibrant emerald pendant the color of the ocean slid into his palm. “This will keep you safe until we are home and my wizards can make the transformation permanent,” he said, handing it to Marcus’s father. “Put it around your neck right before you go under, and you’ll be able to swim and breathe like one of us until we can change your form.”
The King and Queen nodded one more time at Beka and vanished under the waves with their guards. Marcus Senior hesitated for a moment, then smiled at Marcus and Beka.
“Take care of each other,” he said, and walked into the sea.
* * *
BEKA SAT ON the damp sand and watched the foam curl lace-edged on the sand and then retreat. Just like life—something always coming, always going. Beautiful, unpredictable, implacable in its perpetual and constant chang
e. No matter how much you wanted things to stay the same, they never did.
Sometimes they changed for the better. Sometimes they changed for the worse. But they always changed.
Marcus had been standing by the surf, staring out over the water as if he could see into the secret realms underneath. Or maybe just brooding; it was hard to tell. Either way, she couldn’t blame him. After a while, he wandered over and sat next to Beka.
“You’re crying,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “You never cry.”
She shrugged a little, her tee shirt and jeans feeling strangely constricting after the long, flowing dress she’d worn earlier. Her heart felt constricted, too, as if metal bars had formed around it, tightening into bands so firm she could feel them crushing into the flesh, making her pulse seem ragged and uneven.
“Are you crying for my da?” he asked. “Because I think he’s going to be okay, one way or the other.”
“I think so too,” Beka said, looking at his face under the moonlight, so beloved and so strong. How could she choose a life where she would never gaze on that face again? How could she not?
Marcus scooted a little closer, brushing away a tear as it slid slowly down her cheek. “If you’re not crying about my da, then what’s wrong, Beka?” He leaned over and kissed the spot where the tear had been, making the iron bars tighten even further. “Can I help?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “You see, tomorrow is my birthday.”
He blinked at her. “And you don’t like birthdays?”
She gave a tiny laugh. “I love birthdays, usually. But tomorrow I turn thirty, and I will have been a Baba—or a Baba-in-training—for twenty-five years. If I keep drinking the Water of Life and Death, there is no going back. I’ll be a Baba Yaga, and a powerful witch, for the rest of my life. So you see, this is my last chance; I have to choose once and for all whether to be magical or to be Human, like everyone else.”
“You could never be like everyone else,” Marcus said solemnly. “And that’s a good thing, not a bad one.”
Beka sniffed, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes. Damn him, the last thing she needed right now was him being sweet. “I thought I didn’t want to be a Baba Yaga anymore. I wanted a regular life, and kids of my own. But the last few weeks have shown me I really want to be a Baba after all. I feel like that’s the role I was meant to play.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, obviously confused.
She looked him in the eye. “I love you,” she said. “That’s the problem. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone, and I don’t want to give you up. But I know you hate all this magical stuff, and you’ll only want me if I am Human. So if I want to keep you, I have to give up the magic, and I can’t bear the thought of losing it either. That’s why I’m crying.”
To her amazement, Marcus let out a huge laugh, leaning in to put his arms around her. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as he said, “You’re wrong, Beka. I know I’ve been kind of freaked out about finding out that life really is like the fairy tales, but I’ve learned a lot over the last couple of weeks too.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips, so she could feel the curve of his smile, and then pulled back to say in a voice that rang with truth, “The most important thing I learned is that I want you just the way you are—the whole crazy, magical, enchanting, infuriating package. That’s who I fell in love with, even if I didn’t know it at the time. And that’s who I’m going to love for the rest of my days. No matter which path you choose, I want to walk it with you.
“As for me, I want to stay here on the Bay and go out fishing on my father’s boat. But I also want to start a program to help kids like Tito, the ones who are poor and sick and need to get out into the fresh air and do something fun. I could take them out for a day on the boat and give their parents a break. But I’m going to need another crew member to help, now that my father is gone, and Chico is on his way back to Mexico.”
To her amazement, he knelt before her on one knee and took her hands in his. “I know you’re going to be off some of the time, doing Baba things, but when you’re around, I was wondering if you’d maybe agree to work the boat with me. And, you know, marry me. If you don’t mind being stuck with a slightly grumpy ex-Marine fisherman with a beat-up old boat and no money to speak of.”
He let go of her hands and pulled a battered black velvet box out of his jeans, and she gaped at him in disbelief.
“I know,” Marcus said with a grin. “I was kind of surprised, too, when my father slipped it into my pocket when he was hugging me good-bye. But it was his mother’s, and I guess he thought you should have it.”
The lid popped open to reveal a single luminous pearl, set in gold filigree. Beka thought it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen.
One more tear danced down her face, melting the tightness around her heart as she felt her world filling up with unexpected joy.
“Beka?” Marcus said, sounding uncertain. “Is that a no?”
She plucked the ring out of its velvet bed and slid it onto her finger, where of course it fit as if it was made for her. Because everything about Marcus was made for her.
“That’s a hell yes,” she said, smiling. “And as long as you don’t mind being married to a witch who lives with a gigantic dragon-dog and is a little bit flaky, I suspect things will work out just fine.”
And she kissed him soundly, just because she could.
EPILOGUE
Dearest Bella,
Thanks so much for the lovely wedding gift. Marcus said he never heard of anyone giving a couple matching knives before, but he is sure that his will come in handy on the boat. He only hopes that none of the boys he is teaching will mock him for the mother-of-pearl handles. Personally, I think they are just perfect!
I’m sorry for the short notice, but we wanted to go ahead and tie the knot now, in case his father doesn’t get better after all (although he was looking pretty good under the moonlight, swimming around the floating dock we used for the ceremony). Barbara and her Liam flew out for the day. I can’t believe how happy she looks and how adorable little Babs is. I’m just sorry you couldn’t be here too.
But I am relieved to hear that you’ve found a clue as to the whereabouts of our missing three Riders. I know they’ve all been around for over a thousand years, but they’ve never disappeared like this before, and I can’t help being worried. How on earth do you suppose they all ended up in Montana? Do you think it has anything to do with all the wildfires you’ve been struggling with lately? Or that cryptic message the Queen of the Otherworld sent, calling us all to an urgent meeting?
Anyway, keep me posted, and I’ll see you soon.
Much love,
Your sister Baba,
Beka
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WICKEDLY DANGEROUS
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THE CRACKLE OF the two-way radio barely impinged on Liam McClellan’s consciousness as he scanned the bushes on either side of his squad car for any sign of a missing seven-year-old girl. He’d been down this same narrow country road yesterday at dusk, but like the other searchers, he’d had to give up when darkness fell. Like the rest—volunteers from the nearby community and every cop who could be spared, whether on duty or off—he’d come back at dawn to pick up where he left off. Even though there was little hope of success, after six long days.
His stomach clenched with a combination of too much coffee, too little sleep, and the acid taste of failure. Liam McClellan took his job as sheriff very seriously. Clearwater might be a tiny county in the middle of nowhere, its population scattered between a few small towns and a rural countryside made up mostly of struggling farmers, overgrown wilderness, and white-tailed deer, but it was his tiny county, and the people in it were his to protect. Lately, it didn’t seem like he’d been doing a very good job.
Mary Elizabeth Shields had disappeared out of her ow
n backyard. Her mother had turned her back for a moment, drawn by the flutter of a bright-hued bird. When she turned around, the girl had vanished. Such a thing would be alarming enough on its own, but Mary Elizabeth was the third child to go missing in the last four months. To a lawman, that meant only one thing: a human predator was stalking the children of Clearwater County.
There had been no trace of any of the missing children. No tire marks, no unexplained fingerprints, no lurking strangers seen at any of the places from which the children had disappeared. No clues at all for a tired and frustrated sheriff to follow. And this time it was personal; Mary Elizabeth’s mother was one of his deputies. A single mother who adored her only child, Belinda Shields was beside herself with grief and terror, making Liam even more discouraged over his inability to make any headway in the case.
A rabbit bounded out of a tangle of sumac, and Liam slowed to avoid hitting it, his tires sending up a spray of dusty gravel. In his rearview mirror, he thought he caught a glimpse of an old woman walking by the side of the road with a basket of herbs over one gnarled, skinny arm. But when he looked again, no one was there.
The gauzy fog of an early summer morning gave the deserted back road a surreal quality, which only heightened as he came around the bend to his destination to find a totally unexpected sight.
When he was out here last night, the wide curve of road that ended in a patch of meadow overlooking the Clearwater River had been empty. This morning, there was a shiny silver Airstream trailer parked in the middle of the crabgrass and wildflowers of the meadow, along with the large silver Chevy truck that had no doubt hauled it there. Liam blinked in surprise as he eased his squad car to a halt a few yards away. He didn’t know anyone in the area who had such a fancy, expensive rig, and he couldn’t imagine a stranger being able to navigate his way into the back-of-beyond corner on a bumpy tertiary road in the dark.
But clearly, someone had.
Swinging his long legs out of the driver’s-side door, Liam thumbed the radio on and checked in with Nina in dispatch, hoping fervently she would tell him the girl had turned up, safe and sound.
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