“You do?” Beka said.
“We do.” Gregori almost looked pleased; on him, it was the equivalent of an ear-to-ear grin. “At least, we have a description, and a likely place to look. One of the Merpeople we talked to last night—well, early this morning, really, since it was about three a.m. by the time we’d finished our little chat—was eventually convinced to share the information that our unknown pal has an appointment at an abandoned dock tonight. The only reason our informant knew anything about it was because he apparently uses that place to make his transformation when he comes onto land, and this mystery man warned him to stay away this evening. Or else.”
“He seemed quite frightened by our mysterious friend,” Alexei added with a certain relish. “But for some reason he found us even more intimidating. Go figure.”
“You did have your big, meaty paw wrapped around his family jewels at that point in the conversation,” Gregori pointed out. “This might have had something to do with it.”
“Nah,” Alexei said. “It vas my delightful personality.”
Beka laughed. She loved working with the Riders. They always cheered her up.
“So, you have a place to look for him, and you said you know what he looks like too? That’s great.” She could almost feel hope creeping up on her like a sunrise over the ocean. “Is he an ogre? Some kind of Nixie?”
Chewie gave a great barking laugh. “You know ogres aren’t smart enough to plan anything. And no one would follow a Nixie; they’re just too unpleasant. All those sharp teeth, ugh.”
“Look who’s talking about sharp teeth,” Beka muttered. But she patted him on his massive head anyway, and gave him most of her sandwich. They were having their meeting over an early dinner for her, more like a late breakfast for the Riders, since they’d been up most of the night and hadn’t woken up until after two that afternoon.
“We’re not completely sure what kind of creature our renegade is,” Gregori said, looking thoughtful. “He has only appeared to people in his Human-seeming form. But everyone we’ve talked to paints the same picture: tall, dark hair, gray eyes, very handsome, very charming and charismatic, speaks with an Irish accent, acts like he owns the world. And by all accounts, he is very bitter about what Humans have done to the sea, so we’re assuming he is some kind of ocean being.”
Beka closed her eyes, shaken to her core. She knew someone who matched that portrayal exactly, right down to the attitude. But it couldn’t be—could it? She couldn’t have been that wrong about him. Besides, that description could apply to plenty of people—almost all the Selkies had black hair, gray eyes, and a dislike for the Humans who had despoiled their oceans.
Chewie gave a great roar and sprang to his feet, causing the table to rock back and forth until Gregori caught it in a steadying hand. “Aha!” the dragon said, looking around as if for someone to bite. A very particular someone. He gave Beka an accusing glare. “I told you I didn’t like him. Didn’t I? I told you there was something off about that damned Selkie.”
Alexei and Gregori exchanged puzzled glances, turning to Beka with identical expressions of confusion written on their very different faces.
“Wait,” Alexei said, scratching his beard and producing a rain of crumbs. “You know this person?”
“Maybe,” Beka said with reluctance. “If it is the same man. It might not be.”
Chewie grumbled low in his throat. “What are the odds of two handsome, arrogant, black-haired, black-hearted scoundrels showing up at the same time? Face it, Beka, you’ve been tricked. He has probably been hanging around you to keep an eye on what you’re doing and make sure you don’t interfere with his plans.”
Beka shook her head. “No. I don’t believe it. Kesh cares about his people, and he cares about me.”
“That wouldn’t necessarily stop him from trying to cause trouble for Humans, Beka,” Gregori pointed out gently. “So, I take it you know someone who might be our renegade?”
She pressed her lips together, as if talking about it might somehow make it true. But just because she liked someone didn’t mean they couldn’t be guilty of bad decisions, bad behavior, or worse. Brenna had always warned her that she was a terrible judge of people. Of course, Brenna thought she was terrible at pretty much everything.
“His name is Kesh,” Chewie informed the Riders flatly. “He’s a Selkie prince, and he’s been wooing our Beka for weeks. Leaving her stinky flowers, inviting her to romantic picnics on the beach. Showing up here, there, and everywhere. I never liked him.”
“You not liking someone isn’t exactly proof of wrongdoing,” Beka pointed out. “You didn’t like me when Brenna first brought me home, as I recall.”