The diver’s smile grew a smidgeon broader and somehow more sinister. It suddenly occurred to Charlie that maybe it hadn’t been all that smart to come to this lonely spot in the middle of the night all by himself.
“I am afraid that the word mutual may have been something of a falsehood,” the other man said, stepping gracefully onto the dock. “’Tis only my own interests that bring us together this night. You see, I have decided that I have no further need of your toxic refuse; what you have given me already has more than done its job.”
Charlie gaped at him. What the hell was the man talking about?
An effortless stride brought the diver close enough that Charlie could smell the fish on his breath, although Charlie barely saw him move.
“And if I have no need of your poison, I have no need of you,” the diver said, his voice as calm as if they discussed a favorite show or the best way to get from the highway to the nearest Denny’s. “Which, alas, makes you more of a liability than an asset. You Humans, so undependable. You understand; I simply cannot take the risk.”
Charlie felt a sudden sharp pain, like indigestion, only more intense, and looked down in amazement to see a long, thin knife protruding from his chest. No, not a knife, he thought muzzily as his knees buckled. It looked more like a tusk of some kind, or the barb from a swordfish.
He barely felt the diver scoop him up and toss him into the bottom of the boat, the deadly canisters following him in with a dull thud. The last thing he heard as the cold crept into his bones were the sweet notes of an old Irish lullaby about a sailor going to his final rest in the deep blue sea, sung by the man who’d just murdered him.
*
BEKA SAW THE man collapse, be caught in strong arms, then slung carelessly into the boat. There was a flash of moonlight on silver, and the canisters went in after him. A throaty roar of a motor, and their quarry was on his way. The glaring headlights of the abandoned Mercedes lit an empty dock.
“What the hell happened?” she asked no one in particular. “Did that guy faint?”
“Sure,” Alexei said, grabbing her hand and dragging her rapidly down the slope to where their own transport awaited. “Right after he was stabbed. Being killed will do that to you.”
Gregori lifted her gracefully into the boat and set off after the other vessel with the ease of one who had spent centuries handling every different type of transportation there was. Beka noticed with a numb sort of gratitude that her spell seemed to be working just fine; the boat they were in moved swiftly and silently, like a ghost upon the ocean.
“Killed,” she repeated.
“I’m afraid so,” Gregori said, steering through the night like a hunter unerringly tracking his prey.
Gregori looked at her, something like pity in his dark eyes, shining under the cold gaze of the moon. “So, was that your friend Kesh?”
Beka swallowed hard. Nodded. There had been no mistaking him, his proud carriage, the narrow arch of his nose, the shape of his sleek head. Once he’d walked into the beam of the headlights, she knew him instantly. “Yes. It was Kesh. Not my friend, apparently.”
“Do not worry, my little Baba,” Alexei said, sounding unusually grim. “I will tear him limb from limb for you. By the time I am done, there will be nothing left but scraps for the rats to feast on.”
As much as she appreciated the sentiment, the imagery that came with it, coupled with the movement of the boat on the waves, didn’t do anything good for Beka’s already roiling stomach.
“I think we’d better keep him in one piece to give to the Queen,” she said. “But if he happens to acquire a couple of bruises along the way, I won’t complain.”
Gregori flashed her a bloodthirsty edge of a smile, slowing the boat to a crawl, and then to a halt as they spotted Kesh’s boat ahead, its streamlined shape a dark blot against an only slightly less dark sky.
“Baba? A little light would help, if you would,” said Gregori.
Oh, right. Magic. Duh. Beka focused on what she needed and gestured with both hands, creating a clear-seeing bubble around her and the two Riders. It enabled them to see out across the water as if someone had turned on a low-glowing lamp, but wouldn’t be visible from the outside. By, say, a murderous Selkie prince.
They all looked out across the expanse of restless waves, Beka hiding her shaking hands between her knees so the others couldn’t see how much even that relatively simple magical act had taken out of her. Made more difficult by the ocean that surrounded them, but still, it shouldn’t have taken that much energy. She peered around, trying to figure out where they were. They’d come from a different direction than the one she usually took on the Wily Serpent, but based on the distance from shore and the shape of the distant city lights, she thought they weren’t too far off from where she’d been diving all those days. What were the odds?