*
BEKA CLOSED THE final collection bag carefully and placed it in the waterproof sack with the others in the bow of the dinghy. As she turned to sit down again, she took a moment to look across the small vessel at her companion. Marcus was so large, he seemed to take up most of the space in the tiny boat. Not that there was an extra ounce of fat on him, but between his height, wide shoulders, and broad chest, not to mention all those muscles, he took up a lot of room. The power of his personality only added to the impression.
Yet he was also amazingly graceful. She’d already seen him moving around the Wily Serpent in the carefully orchestrated dance of the fisherman, but underwater, he’d been a revelation. Although Marcus told her he hadn’t dived since he’d left home at eighteen, it was clear he hadn’t forgotten a thing. He’d gone down with her the first two times so she could show him the blighted patches of giant kelp, and other evidence of the poisoned area, and he’d had no trouble keeping up with her even when they dove to the very edge of the depths she could handle. As a Baba Yaga, that was very deep indeed.
Now they both sat and recovered from their efforts, Beka with her wet suit rolled down to her waist over a crimson one-piece suit, and Marcus in only tiny trunks that hugged his slim hips and lean bottom in a way that made it easy for Beka to wait for the Serpent to return from its rounds and fetch them on its way home. She glanced at him from beneath lowered lashes and surprised him looking back at her the same way. They both laughed, a little sheepishly.
“Thanks for all your help today,” she said, shifting carefully to sit across from him. “I’ve got enough new samples to make another start on some of the research I want to do, although I’ll definitely want to go back down again tomorrow if that’s okay with you.”
Marcus scowled, but for once his grim expression wasn’t aimed at her. “I can’t believe some of the damage you showed me. It just doesn’t make sense that it is worse down deep than it is near the surface. That suggests something like an oil spill or chemical contamination from careless transport.” He shook his head, one lock of wavy hair flopping into his eyes in a way Beka found ridiculously endearing. “And I’m happy to help, especially if the answers lead us to something that would explain the reason the fish have disappeared.”
A spasm of guilt made Beka wince. She was still struggling to deal with Kesh’s admission from last night. She really liked the Selkie prince, and she knew he was doing his best to protect his people from what he rightfully saw as the Human threat, but she couldn’t allow him to purposely throw off the natural balance as he’d been doing. Distress from her divided loyalties had kept her up tossing and turning most of the night, almost feverish with worry. Even now, her stomach was twisted into knots and she shook her head at the apple Marcus offered her. Hopefully Kesh listened to her, and would send the fish back where they belonged, and she wouldn’t be forced to choose between her new friend and her responsibilities as Baba.
“I know you’re worried about your father not catching enough fish,” she said sympathetically. “It must be hard to watch him struggle to keep the boat going when he is this sick.”
Marcus shrugged. “My father is a tough old goat; he’ll be fine. I’m more worried about some of the other folks who depend on fishing to keep their families fed and a roof over their heads.” A distant look flitted over his face, as if for a moment he wandered through long-forgotten days, revisiting the path once trod by his own younger, more innocent feet.
“My mother left us when I was seven and my kid brother was five,” he admitted. “My father wasn’t much good at being a da; he absolutely sucked at being both mother and father. A lot of the fishing folk picked up the slack; the women made sure we had clean clothes for school, instead of a bunch of patched and outgrown rags, and that there was real food in the fridge from time to time, instead of just frozen dinners or big pots of leftover fish stew.
“Anyway, these are good people, most of them the same folks that looked out for us when we were growing up. If I can find any way to return the favor, I will. I’m not planning to stick around once my father doesn’t need me anymore, but I’d like to help out while I’m here.” He visually shook off his old memories, shoving them down deeper than the cold, dark waters they’d just been diving in, and favored her with one of his rare and powerful grins. “Besides, somebody has to keep an eye on you; otherwise who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get yourself into.”