Wickedly Wonderful(107)
“Wait!” he said. “I can help you!”
Marcus looked at him with disgust. “Don’t listen to him, Beka. He’ll say anything to keep us from killing him. Let’s just get this over with.” He grabbed Kesh by his bound legs and started hauling him toward the road, none too gently.
Kesh winced as a shell cut into his face, scrabbling with the hands tied behind his back to try and grab the shifting sands and slow his forward movement.
“No, Baba, you need me,” he said in a rush. “I can lead you to the Water of Life and Death. You need it to cure your illness.”
“You mean the radiation poisoning you gave me?” she asked, her expression cold. “That illness?”
He swallowed hard as he realized she’d somehow learned exactly what he had done. There was no way he would be able to convince her that he hadn’t intended to kill her. Kesh looked from Beka to Marcus, taking in their matching hard stares and the grim set of their jaws.
He had lost, well and truly. The universe was cruel and unfair, to reward ones such as these over someone like him. But someday they would learn. If not at his hands, then at the hands of another.
“I will take you to the Water of Life and Death,” he said, drooping. “Just let me live.”
Beka sighed and stuck the knife through her belt. “Oh, okay. But you’d better lead us directly to it and fast. I’ve had a really rough week and I’m running out of patience.”
“And I never had any to start with,” the fisherman added. “And I really, really don’t like you.”
Kesh closed his good eye as the Human hauled him off the ground and threw him over one large shoulder, no doubt heading back toward their vehicle. The feeling is quite mutual, fisherman. But even he was not foolish enough to say it out loud.
* * *
WITH KESH FIRMLY trussed up and tossed in the back of the Jeep, and the Water of Life and Death safely retrieved, its decorative box held securely in both hands on her lap, Beka finally felt like she could take a breath. Everything on her hurt, but she was more worried about Marcus, who was clearly favoring his ribs, as well as dripping blood all over the driver’s seat of the Jeep.
They were headed down Highway One, almost to the beach where she’d told Chewie to gather the sick Mer and Selkies. She worried that either one or both of Chewie’s assignments hadn’t gone as planned; that the Queen had said no, or that the water folk hadn’t listened, or both. But there was nothing she could do about that now.
The fancy silver Camaro they’d been following for the last mile suddenly made a left turn into a parking lot, causing Marcus to jam on the brakes and throwing them forward against restraining seat belts. Beka clutched the box even tighter and listened to Marcus curse out everyone who ever got a license to drive without being instructed on the use of turn signals.
She started to laugh until she saw his face—pale and set, teeth gritted in obvious pain.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said tersely, but then he coughed, holding on to his ribs and wincing, and she saw a bubble of crimson appear at the corner of his lips.
Hell. She wasn’t a healer like Barbara, but even she knew a punctured lung when she saw one.
“We have to get you to the hospital,” she said, feeling a pulse of panic starting at the base of her throat. She’d been so terrified when he was fighting Kesh, and so relieved when they’d made it through with only minor injuries. Trust Marcus not to mention a little thing like a broken rib. Or ribs.
“I’m fine,” he insisted, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. “Tonight is almost the full moon; we have to get the Water of Life and Death to the Selkies and Merpeople as soon as possible.” He gave a brief chuckle, cut short by a gasp for breath. “Ow,” he said. “I can’t believe that sentence just came out of my mouth.”
“That’s not the only thing coming out of your mouth,” Beka said in a grim tone, using a tissue to blot away another bead of blood. “Pull over.”
“Beka—”
“Pull the damned car over right now,” Beka commanded. “Or would you rather start practicing saying ribbit?”
She couldn’t do anything about whether or not Chewie’s missions had been successful. There was, however, one thing she could fix. Even if it cost her the title of Baba. It would be worth it.
Marcus eased the car to the side of the road, ignoring the blare of a horn and raised middle finger from the battered green pickup that had been on their rear bumper. In the backseat, Kesh let out a muffled protest from underneath the blanket they’d thrown over his duct-taped body.