Wickedly Wonderful(25)
She bit her lip. She would have liked to have disagreed with the Merman, but she’d been thinking the exact same thing herself.
“It does have a malicious feel to it, doesn’t it?” she said, peering out across the open seas as if she could see through the roiling clouds and livid waves to whatever—or whoever—had caused them. “But who could create such a storm, and why would they do it?”
The faintest trace of webbing was visible between Fergus’s fingers as he pushed sopping hair back from his forehead. “It seems to have worsened since this morning, and no one else is mad enough to be out. Perhaps it is aimed at this boat, or someone on it.” He smiled slyly at her. “A Baba Yaga could make such a tempest.”
“I’d hardly try to sink the ship while I was on it,” Beka said. “Although if Marcus was out by himself and I was onshore, I could see why you might be suspicious.” A tiny laugh slipped through tense lips. “So who besides me could do it? As far as I know, there are no other Babas anywhere around, so that means someone else supernatural.”
Fergus looked uncharacteristically grim. “The Queen of the Otherworld could do it without dropping a stitch of her knitting.”
“Yes, but why would she?” Beka asked, trying to envision the ethereally beautiful and dangerously unpredictable High Queen of the Otherworld doing anything as mundane as playing with yarn. “As far as I know, I haven’t done anything to upset her, and these Humans have nothing to do with her.”
“Well,” her companion said thoughtfully, “my own Queen could do it, or the King of the Selkies, or a few of the more powerful magicians of our kingdoms. But I cannot imagine what reasons any of those would have to send such a deluge either.”
A particularly assertive wave curled itself over the side and lashed at them with bitterly cold fingers. The old boat rocked unhappily, its timbers creaking. Beka shivered.
“That’s it,” she said. “I’m going to have to do something about this, or we’re never going to make it back to the shore.” Apprehension chilled her even further; weather magic wasn’t her strongest suit. Visions of a silver submarine, slowly tumbling to the ocean floor, threatened to weaken her resolve.
“Thank Manannán,” Fergus said with a heartfelt sigh. “I thought you would never offer.”
Beka gave a shaky laugh. “What are you worried about? You can always jump overboard and return to your natural shape.”
He shook his head violently. “And explain to my Queen that I let the Baba Yaga drown? No, thank you very much. You can take care of a little squall like this; I have seen you surf higher waves without effort or fear.”
She snorted, feeling inexplicably buoyed by his unshakable faith in her abilities. “Okay, okay.” She peered around the deck; it looked as though Marcus’s father was still in the cabin, and the others were occupied with their fish-wrangling duties. “Why don’t you go keep an eye out, and make sure no one comes over here while I’m doing my thing?”
Fergus nodded, and walked toward the stern, leaving Beka to gaze out over the pewter-colored sea. She stiffened her spine and reminded herself that water was her element. And she was a Baba Yaga, dammit. The natural world was hers to command. Hopefully there were no submarines down there anywhere . . .
She closed her eyes, ignoring for a moment the sway of the deck and the bite of the spray. Throwing her arms up in the air, she pulled power from her core, visualizing it glowing yellow like the unseen sun and sending it dancing out amid the pelting raindrops. Farther and farther, her magic pulsed out from the boat in every direction—out and up and down, calming the wind, soothing the ocean, singing a lullaby of comfort to the angry clouds above.
A whistling babble of dolphin voices prompted her to open her eyes again. Next to the boat, a pod of about a dozen lithe gray bodies frolicked in a sedate sea, the blue-green surface reflecting the sunlight as it broke through the dispersing clouds. Beka let out a sigh almost as gusty as the vanishing winds. She’d done it!
“Wow,” said a voice behind her, and she spun around to see Marcus coming around the curve of the boat, Fergus at his heels. The Merman looked relieved when he saw Beka leaning casually against the side. Probably because he couldn’t see her shaky knees.
“I can’t believe how fast that storm blew over,” Marcus continued, scanning the horizon with one hand over his eyes. Even soaking wet and covered with fish scales, Beka thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen. You’re an idiot, Beka Yancy. He can’t stand you, you can’t stand him, and yet you can’t stop mooning over him. Get a grip. She braced herself for him to start yelling at her again.