“So, Kelly, do you think we are dealing with some kind of sea monster out there in the beautiful Monterey Bay? Could these fishermen be onto something?” The anchorman’s cheery demeanor made it sound like someone was about to declare a new national holiday.
“Well, Bob, this is California, so anything is possible,” Kelly said, the sun nearly blinding as it bounced off her teeth. “But Mermaids? Really?” She smiled at the camera as if inviting the audience in on the joke. “I think it’s more likely that they’re on something than onto something. But I’ll let you know if I run into a talking dolphin. Back to you, Bob.”
Beka scowled so hard at the television, smoke started seeping out the back. Chewie hurriedly hit the “off” button with his paw.
“Gah,” she said, stomping off to the kitchen to make tea. “I guess it is a little too late to try and get Marcus’s father to warn the other fishermen to watch out for things that are odd and dangerous.”
“I’d say so.” Chewie looked slightly depressed under all his fur. “What are you going to do now?”
Besides kiss my career as a Baba Yaga good-bye? Beka sniffed the rejuvenating tea, slightly scented with the blue roses that formed its base. It seemed like her stomach was always upset these days, but the magical tea still made her feel a little bit better. It didn’t do anything to help the fatigue that had suddenly started to make her feel as though gravity was heavier wherever she happened to be standing, but she blamed that on the sleepless nights and too much diving. If she’d been fully Human, she would have suspected the flu. But Babas didn’t get sick.
Too bad the same thing didn’t apply to being lovesick.
She sighed. “I guess I’ll try some more magical work to see if I can get a better idea of what is at the bottom of the poisoning problem. And track down all the paranormal creatures I know, so I can ask them if they’ve heard or seen anything of our mystery renegade. I’ll be happy when the Riders get here.”
Chewie suddenly picked up his head and gave a reasonably doglike woof.
“Timmy in the well again?” Beka asked sarcastically.
“Someone at the door,” Chewie said. “Or at least there was.”
Beka didn’t know if it was just her pounding head, or if the damned dragon was making even less sense than usual. But she made her way over to the door anyway and swung the handle to open it.
She looked out, but all she saw was an empty parking lot and a view of the sea across the road. Damn. Just for a moment, she’d thought that maybe Marcus had come to apologize. As if that was ever going to happen.
“There’s no one here, Chewie,” she said.
He woofed again, and knocked something over that had been leaning next to the door. It was a huge bunch of roses, orchids, and lilies in various shades of dainty pink and blushing peach. Not exactly her colors, but very pretty in a completely over-the-top kind of way. The overpowering odor made her stomach flip-flop, or maybe that was due to a momentary spurt of hope. Seconds later, though, she realized that Marcus wasn’t the flower-giving type.
“There’s a note,” Chewie pointed out helpfully. “Are they from the sailor?”
“Don’t be stupid,” she said, disappointment making her crabby. She looked at the note. “They’re from Kesh.”
“Oh. Swell.” Chewie scowled. “Put them back on the ground. I’ll pee on them.”
Beka rolled her eyes. “You will do no such thing. I told you he’s had some sort of falling-out with his family. He’s just lonely and needs a friend.”
“He needs to leave you alone. You’re busy.”
Beka ignored him and read the note out loud. If she didn’t, the dragon would just bug her until she told him what was in it anyway.
“Dearest Beka,” the note read. “These flowers are but a pale reflection of your beauty, but I hope you will accept them as a token of my regard. I have missed you these past days, and it is my fervent hope that you will honor me with your presence at dinner tonight. I will be on the beach at the usual place, eagerly waiting for you to join me and put the moon to shame with the glow of your smile. Yours, Kesh.”
Chewie made gagging noises. Loudly.
“Oh hush, you,” Beka said, secretly agreeing with him. She really wasn’t the flattery type either. Maybe that’s why she’d liked Marcus so much; he’d never tried to flatter her. Or said anything nice at all, for the most part. It was kind of restful.
“You’re not going to go, are you?” Chewie asked, following her back inside. “You have mysteries to solve and a bad guy to track down. You don’t have time to waste on Prince Not-As-Charming-As-He-Thinks-He-Is.”