Wickedly Wonderful(87)

Gregori raised one feathery eyebrow, the color of ink. “Are you all right, little one? You don’t quite seem yourself.”

“Yes,” Alexei agreed, grabbing another handful of chips from the bowl on the table between them. “You are acting almost as crabby as Barbara. But on you, it is not so natural. What is the matter?”

A black mountain shifted underneath them, nudging the table an inch or two to the left. “She’s pining for her fisherman,” Chewie said morosely. “And so am I. I liked him, even if he was Human. Also, I think she’s sick. Pass me the chips, will you?”

Alexei put the bowl on the floor. “Sick? Baba Yagas don’t get sick.”

“I’m fine,” Beka said, propping her aching head on one hand and trying to look perkier than she felt. “I’m just tired.”

“This is more than just tired,” Gregori said, peering at her more closely. “I have been watching you, and you move like your whole body hurts. There are dark circles under your eyes, and you hardly eat anything at all. Surely this is not all because of some man.”

Beka nudged Chewie with one bare foot and muttered, “Thanks so much for sharing, buddy.”

“You’re welcome,” he muttered around a mouthful of chips. “But she doesn’t smell right either. She’s sick.”

Gregori and Alexei both sniffed at her. Beka couldn’t figure out whether to laugh or cry, burying her face in her palms for a moment before pushing her chair back from the table.

“Guys, I’m fine. Can we just focus on the matter at hand?”

Alexei settled back with a grunt, grabbing another bag of tortillas off the counter behind him without bothering to turn around. It helped to have the longest arms in the room. But Gregori still gazed at her, his dark eyes calm but concerned.

“When is the last time you had some of the Water of Life and Death?” he asked. “That should cure whatever is wrong with you.”

Beka couldn’t remember off the top of her head. Things had been a little crazy, and her brain felt like mush. Babas usually drank a small amount of the magical elixir once or twice a month, so it couldn’t have been that long ago.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Last week? The week before? I’ll have some later, okay? Right now, I’d really like to know what you’ve come up with, so we can deal with this problem once and for all. Do you have any idea yet who this mysterious renegade is?”

Surreptitiously, she crossed her fingers.

“We do have an idea, yes,” Alexei said with a smirk, his enthusiasm making his accent even thicker than usual. Bits of tortilla scattered as he spoke, and Gregori sighed, cleaning a speck of food off his immaculate red pants.

“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.