by Erin Johnson
I rose and grabbed Iggy, then moved closer to Maple. I scanned the crowd, wondering where K'ree and Wiley were with our drinks. I still needed something that tasted good after that shot. And then I spotted him. Hank stood a head above most of the jostling, bouncing dancers as he pushed his way through the crowd. He scanned left and right, and my heart perked up at the thought that he might be looking for me. Oh no, he might be looking for me! I ducked.
Iggy raised a brow. "They say love's a game. Yours is hide-and-seek."
"Shh!"
"Right, like he can hear me over this music."
Okay, good point. Why was I panicking so hard?
"Be a woman." Iggy gave me an encouraging fist shake.
I sighed. I couldn't hide from Hank forever—I could try, but he knew where I worked, which happened to be in his palace. He'd find me for sure. I didn't know how to act around him after those kisses, though. And I knew he'd brush it off, but I couldn't help worrying I might be a danger to him with my uncontrolled magic. Still, he'd come to the club twice now and from what I knew of him, he wasn't a big clubber, which meant he'd probably come for me.
I handed Iggy to Maple and then stood tall. I took a deep breath, and as I let it out, I raised my arm high and waved. It took a few moments, but eventually Hank looked my way again and saw me. He stilled, and for a moment I felt a pang of fear that he might not want to see me after all. But then his face softened, dissolving into an easy smile.
He lifted a long arm and waved back. He beckoned me to him. I gulped—out on the dance floor? Maybe it'd be better to sit and talk. I motioned him my way, but he shook his head. He lifted his arms in the air and did some bad version of raise the roof. I grinned. Then came the fishing pole. Oh no.
He mimed throwing back the line, then cast it my way. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, but he started reeling in and I made a split-second decision. I clapped my hands together and wiggle hopped my way through the crowd to him. I tripped on someone's foot and stumbled the last couple of feet. Hank lunged forward and caught me. We stayed like that, still, as the crowd bounced and jostled all around us.
I looked up into his face and instantly knew why I'd been avoiding him. He pulled me upright, but I stayed close against him, my hands resting on his chest. My hiding had maybe had a little to do with our scare on the island when my magic pulled too much from him, but it had more to do with those kisses and the fact that I'd lost all my resolve to stay away from him.
I'd thought that in the days since, that resolve would rebuild and become strong again. Nope. If anything, now that I knew how amazing it could be with him, the pull had only gotten stronger.
We stared at each other a long moment, the rest of the world fading away. Suddenly, I grew self-conscious. How long had we been like this? What did I say next?
Hank solved my dilemma by backing up, taking my hand in his, and twirling me around. The room flew by in a blur of colors and suddenly I faced him again. I laughed, the world still spinning. He grinned and shook his hips, reeling me in with his index fingers.
I sauntered over, really working my shoulders. We danced song after song, the music unimportant. We laughed and swayed and sweated, and moment by moment, all my worries flew away until we were just Hank and Imogen, a couple of goofy dancers, shaking it for everything we had. No crowns, or cryptic riddles or murders to solve. I hadn't had this much fun in—well, my whole life probably.
After what felt like a whole night, and also a blink of an eye, Wiley sidled up to us, bringing the real world with him. He handed me a half-empty margarita. I looked at it, then at him.
"I've been trying to find you for forever!" He glanced at Hank, then dipped his head to whisper in my ear, "Guess I should've had my eye out for Prince Dreamy." He pulled back and waggled his brows. I rolled my eyes, but grinned.
I held up my drink. "Why's it half-empty? You get thirsty on the way?"
"No way. It spilled." He crinkled his nose. "I prefer my alcohol to taste like alcohol. It's more honest that way."
I snapped my fingers. "Speaking of which." I turned to Hank. "I got the lowdown on that spiked brandy."
Wiley cleared his throat. "Did you say spiked brandy?" I nodded. "'Cause some pirates invited me to an after-party—they mentioned they had some crazy booze that'd get you really jellied up. Their words."
I clapped. "Perfect! Can you get us all in?"
Wiley looked me and up down like I was crazy. "Is this some kind of test?" He straightened up and looked this way and that over the dancing crowd. He ducked back down to speak to me. "Did Maple put you up to this to see if I was really trying to be on the clean and narrow? Because I told them no."
My face fell. "No, this is not a test. Just talk to her already. And can you change your RSVP to yes plus…" I tallied us all up on my hands. "Four… well, five if you count Iggy."
Hank cleared his throat. "What about me?" He held up six fingers to Wiley.
I pushed his hands down and shook my head. "Nuh-uh. I have no reputation to ruin. But I'm not getting you caught up in some monster-smuggling drug scandal."
"Monster smuggling?" Hank's blue eyes opened wide.
I motioned Hank and Wiley closer so I could lower my voice. "Fowler let slip that the pirates have been smuggling goods to the BA in the Badlands. Apparently they trade for the blubber of monsters and make it into some kind of psychedelic brandy that the mermaids are crazy for."
Wiley chuckled. "Sounds about right."
I grinned. "I know. Couldn't make this stuff up, right?"
Hank's brow furrowed. "They're supplying the BA."
Hopefully, I didn't get Fowler into too much trouble.
Hank looked up. "They probably know the island better than anyone else we have access to. Maybe they have news about the BA's encampment, numbers, routine—anything would help."
I tilted my head side to side. "We can ask—but he said they always stay offshore and only meet with a couple people each time."
Hank sighed. "Still might be worth checking into."
I nodded. "And I figure this has to have something to do with Monsters Rise, right? Badlands Army, monsters, the island—it all has to be related."
Hank nodded. "I think you're right." He smirked at Wiley. "All right—get us into this party then."
I shook my head. "There's no reason for you to risk being found at a crazy drug party."
He grinned. "That's where you're going, right?"
"Well, yeah."
He leaned closer. "Then that's one very good reason."
My cheeks flushed hot.
Wiley looked doubtful. "No offense, man, but the pirates are pretty secretive. I don't think they'll appreciate a prince crashing their drug party and asking a bunch of questions about their business." He tilted his head toward the bodyguards not so discreetly standing stock-still in a wide circle around us on the dance floor. "Especially with your guards."
Hank's brows pulled together. "Good point." Then his face lit up. "But I've got a solution. I'll meet you at the bar in five—don't leave without me." He slid through the crowd, his guards trailing closely behind.
As I rounded up our group and Wiley got the deets on the after-party, I ran through the list of murder suspects. I hadn't seen Glaucus at the club tonight, but he definitely had been lurking around the mermaids previously and had lied about his reasons why.
It might be from murderous intent, but he might also just be a pervy old man. Then there was Queen Winnie, jealous that her best friend had spent the night with her fiancé. With her petite stature, I doubted she could've done it herself, but as queen she could have ordered anyone to kill for her. Then again, Bubbles's secret girlfriend, Valonzy, thought she was cheating on her and might've killed out of jealousy as well.
Good Time Chuck might've killed her to keep their affair a secret, and she was last seen on his boat. And Geoffrey Clarke was acting strange and had threatened me. Even the old queen, Delphine, disapproved of Bubbles and the degeneration of her
granddaughter's court, and might've killed out of anger, or to stop Winnie's wedding.
So that narrowed my list of suspects down to… just about everyone.
20
After-Party
Six boats entered a cave on the back side of the island. Our boat with the bakers, Hank, and me sat squarely in the center. I leaned close to Hank, who currently looked exactly like Yann.
"How'd you ditch your guards?"
He leaned close and whispered, "I slipped into the bathroom as me, but came out as Yann. The guys didn't look at me twice."
I grinned. "Don't you mean, 'dey deedn't loook at me tvice'?"
He chuckled. "Ja."
Guess that swallow disguise ability came in handy now and then. My stomach tightened as I remembered Horace's words to me, about the public being terrified if they knew we swallows could disguise ourselves so well. I leaned over to Maple beside me. "Hey. Is it weird that Hank can look exactly like Yann?"
She lifted her brows and nodded. "It's so weird."
I cleared my throat. "I mean… does it freak you out? Like, is it scary that he and I can do that?"
She frowned. "No. Why?"
I shrugged. "Just something Horace said to me."
Maple nudged me with her shoulder. "I trust you completely—Prince Harry, too. You could never do anything that'd scare me."
I grinned. "Not even—this?" I made a face, baring my teeth.
She leaned away and lifted a brow. "Eh. Kinda."
We passed under trailing vines that just kissed the surface of the sea and hid the entrance to the secret cave. Pirates on the boats that surrounded us held up torches that illuminated the stone tunnel we passed through.
The tunnel opened up to a towering cavern, the ceiling so high above that it swallowed the light of the torches. Marooned on a shoal sat a pirate ship. Its mast stuck out at a broken angle, shards of sails dangling here and there.
Valonzy’s blue mermaid head surfaced to the right of our boat. "What a dump."
A creepy dump. Crashing a pirate drug party suddenly didn't seem like such a great idea. Our boats coasted to the wreck, while the mermaids swam along below us. We disembarked onto slick, wet rocks. They clicked together as we walked to the wreck and climbed inside a jagged porthole. Flickering orange torchlight bounced off the rough plank walls as we filed deeper into the ship. A
bout twenty pirates and us bakers convened in the largest room below deck. Captain Chuck snapped his fingers, and lanterns dangling from the rafters burst alight. A huge hole in the floor planking opened to the pool of water. Valonzy and several other mermen and women lifted their heads out of the water. Interestingly, Queen Winnie wasn't among them. The pirates pulled over wooden crates and barrels to sit on, while others just plunked down on the ground.
K'ree, Wiley, Maple, Hank in disguise, me, and Sam—who'd reluctantly left his eel friend behind—all stayed standing. A couple of pirates with stubbly chins and dirty faces hauled over a large barrel. The pirates and mermaids cheered.
Sam lifted his arms in the air in imitation of them, though his hands hung limp. "Yay!"
They tapped the barrel and filled the glass mugs, metal cups, and wood bowls the others passed up. The mermaids held up conch shells. Soon, everyone but us bakers were partaking.
A mangy old pirate shuffled up and narrowed his eyes at us. "Well… why aren't you lot drinkin'?" He held up his tin mug.
Maple and I exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"I mean—are you cool?" He peered at Hank. "Or be ye snitches?"
"Snitches?" Another pirate shuffled over. The room grew quiet, as all eyes turned toward us.
Fowler waved a thick hand. "Ah—leave 'em alone. They be a'right."
Another pirate snarled. "I seen that one"—he pointed right at me—"canoodlin' with that prince from the Water Kingdom."
Gasps sounded and another pirate jumped up. "Tha's right! She came around the ship, askin' a bunch a questions the other day." The room broke into arguments, and we all inched closer together.
Wiley took a deep breath, giving Maple a serious look. Then he turned to the pirates and plastered a big grin on his face. "Anyone have a spare cup? I mean, when in Rome."
Maple touched her fingertips to his arm and whispered, "Wiley, you don't have to—"
He winked at her. "I think I do if we don't want to walk the plank tonight."
The mangy pirate shoved a cup at him. The room quieted as everyone watched Wiley eye it, sniff it, and then down it in one gulp. He came up coughing, and Maple patted his back.
Fowler burst into laughter. "He drank the whole thing! In one go!"
The pirates laughed and clinked their glasses together.
Wiley's brows drew together. "Is that… bad?"
Fowler made his way over, laughing. "Well, it ain't good, but you'll be a'right. How'd it taste, lad?"
Wiley scrunched up his face and coughed again. "Revolting."
The pirate winked at me. "Ya want ta know wha's in it?"
Wiley shook his head, but spotted me nodding emphatically. "I mean… sure?"
Fowler took a huge swig of brandy from his glass mug, then wiped his mouth and beard on the back of his sleeve. He spread his arms wide. "There's a giant water lizard tha' swims off the coast of the o' the Badlands. 'Bout three feet long, includin' the tail. They ooze mucus out their pores ta keep their skin lubed. Nasty stuff—it's black as pitch and sizzles when it touches anything. We 'ave to use special magic ta even contain it."
Yep—this brandy was looking less and less appealing. Wiley turned a shade of green as Maple continued to rub his back. I lifted a finger. "And it's this—mucus—that gets you all jellied up?"
Fowler lifted his mug and took a swig. "Ah. 'Tis the best, this mucus."
I shuddered and Wiley lurched, like he might throw up.
Hank, as Yann, coughed. "And how—uh how, does one get said mucus from said lizards?"
Fowler pulled his mouth into a wide grin. "This be the gross part."
Oh great, this be the gross part?
"We get the lizards live from the BA. While we be sailin' all over the seas, we eats our fruits to keep the scurvy away. And we keeps the rinds and the spoiled fruit and we put it all in a big barrel together to ferment."
"To make brandy." Hank/Yann rubbed his wrist.
Fowler nodded. "Aye. And once our fruit turns to brandy, we throw the live lizards in. They ooze mucus to protect their skin from the alcohol, which it doesn't, and they die."
Sam gasped. "That'sss horrible, that'sss barbaric, that'sss—"
Fowler shrugged. "That's pirates. Anyhoo, the funky mucus oozes out all black and tarry and mixes with the brandy to make something that really packs a punch." He threw a fist in the air.
I folded my arms. "And what about those poor lizards?"
"Poor lizards me arse, they'd eat yeh as soon as look at yeh."
I still felt bad for them.
"We fish out their carcasses, a course. Eaten one or two in me day when we got real short on tack. Disgusting. Every now an' then we miss one and someone gets quite the surprise in their mug. Found a whole claw once meself."
Wiley gagged, and Maple wrapped an arm around his waist.
K'ree grimaced at Wiley. "So then, the brandy kills some of the disgusting taste?"
"Eeeehhhh." Fowler scrunched up his nose. "A little? But it's such a euphoric hallucinogenic, you forget all about the taste." He waggled his brows at me. "Did I mention it's an aphrodisiac as well?"
Maple's eyes grew wide and she darted a glance at Wiley. He swayed in place, his eyes glassing over. Oh, this promised to be an interesting night.
I leaned close and muttered to Hank, "How about you—gonna give it a try?"
He placed a hand on his chest and whispered in my ear, "No, I only drink my lizard mucus in tequila, unfortunately."
I grinned. "Yeah, me too."
Fowler moved over to the barrel to get a refill, and I motioned everyone close. I held Iggy aloft,
and Hank and the other bakers crowded around. "All right. We know Bubbles gave us that special brandy, and one of the brandy balls we made with it was found lodged in her throat. We know where she got the brandy now—my bet is this same crowd was eating those balls with her the night she died. Someone must know something."
K'ree nodded. "Right. Let's all mingle and keep an ear out for something that'll pin the killer and clear your names."
I lifted a brow. "As soon as Bon figures out what that substance is, he'll be itching to arrest us and anyone else he can get his hands on." His small, childlike hands.
Hank's jaw tensed.
"Let's see if we can get to the bottom of this." I reached my arm straight out like I'd seen sports teams do in movies. My adoptive parents had never allowed me to play any sports, so I didn't know firsthand, but still—this seemed like the right kind of moment. "All right team, on three. One, two—oh, come on."
Everyone stared at me like I was a crazy person. Except Wiley, who stared at Maple, and sloppily petted her head.
"What on three? Smack the sense back into you?"
I narrowed my eyes at Iggy. "No—it's a human thing. You put your hands on each other’s and throw them into the air. Like, we're all in it together, go team!"
Sam laid his hand on mine, but palm up and limp, as always. He threw his other arm in the air. "Go team." He grinned and blinked at me with his milky blue eyes.
I grinned back. "See, Sam gets it."
K'ree chuckled, and everyone moved off to scrounge up some information. Hank tilted his head toward Chuck. "I'll go chat up the pirate king. See if I can learn anything about the BA."
I frowned. "Well, be careful."
Hank grinned at me, his expression softening. Then he grew serious as his eyes drifted to my lips. And suddenly I realized it was Hank I was looking at. My eyes widened and I grabbed his shoulders, turning his back to the others. His Yann disguise flickered back into place.
His chest heaved. "What?"