Sea Struck (Lupine Bay Book 3)

by Maribel Fox

  “Ninja’s got solid red eyes,” Miles says. “Four of them.”

  “Anyway, we didn’t bring you here to talk about Ian’s pets,” Ava interjects.

  “Should we though? What kind of creature is that just running around town?” Miles continues, pointedly not looking at Callie.

  She’s doing the same to him, but the longer this goes on, the tighter she presses her lips, jaw clenching until her muscles are twitching from the effort.

  “It’s only a puppy, harmless really,” Raj says, rolling his eyes at the concern.

  “Aye, if yer concerned about dangerous pets, ye should look in the pond,” Seamus jokes. I know from experience that there’s a hideous floating vulture that lives in the pond he’s talking about. A bird the children love, especially Nora.

  Her penchant for carrying around putrid meat for the thing has always made me grateful I have no sense of smell in my state.

  “I thought we were talking about the ghost,” Callie finally snaps, glaring at Miles with such fury it’s a wonder lightning doesn’t shoot from her eyes.

  “The… You’ve met Henri?”

  “Yes, I’ve… Well, not officially, but—”

  “Henri was going to tell us all about what’s going on in the bay,” Kush says.

  “You’ve seen strange things while diving, correct?” asks Raj.

  “Well, yeah,” says Miles. “There’s some big rocks, some weird swirly sand patterns…”

  “And a ghost,” says Kush, waving around the shard in his hand, “attached to pretty rocks. Didn’t seem weird to you?”

  “Well, yeah, it’s weird— Wait, you found Henri?” Miles finally sees the pile of shards on the table and snatches one up.

  “The hell did you go?” he says, the moment he spots me.

  “Trenton stole him, catch up,” Callie grumbles, arms crossed over her chest, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of coral.

  Miles’ mouth opens, then he thinks better of it, snapping his jaw shut, eyes narrowed at me.

  “Well, go on then. Tell us,” he snaps, misdirected anger hurled my way.

  “Where should I begin?” I ask, looking around, wishing I could take a seat. It feels like this will take a while. I anticipate many questions.

  “Wherever you need to,” says Ava, the gentlest of them all.

  “I was caught in a storm unlike any I’d ever seen, a tempest with a thirst for blood. I don’t know how I survived it, but my ship did not. I came to in a strange world. A different world. They called it Aearion, lost city of elves.”

  “Ye’ve gotta be shittin’ me,” Seamus mutters.

  “What?” Ava asks.

  “Yer ghost’s from Atlantis,” he answers, eying me warily now.

  “Atlantis?” Callie cries. “Like the sunken underwater city?”

  “Non, it was floating, not sinking, cherie.”

  “Wait, Seamus, what do you know about this?” Ava asks, gaze torn between the two of us.

  “Elves are a giant pain in the arse and better off left alone, is what I know,” he grumbles, going behind the bar to pour himself a drink.

  “That doesn’t tell us anything,” says Raj.

  “Henri?” Callie asks, head tilted to the side. She’s not fuming anymore, her eyes wide and curious, all anger forgetten in the wake of intellectual curiosity.

  “I know only what I learned in my brief time there,” I tell her. “I had no desire to stay in such a dangerous place.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Oui. Great waves that leave destruction in their wake. I heard tale of monsters, too, though I admit I didn’t stay to meet any.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” interrupts Miles, shaking his head. “If there was a floating city on the ocean, we’d know about it. Where is this place?”

  “Far away,” says Seamus.

  “It is a place of portals,” I answer with the only information I have. “I don’t know how I got there, but that is how I escaped. A portal that brought me to Lupine Bay… and may have exploded. Je ne sais pas.”

  “A portal?” Callie frowns, looking around for someone that understands. I can sense her frustration. I imagine she’s used to being the smartest person in the room and doesn’t appreciate being a step behind.

  “Oui, to space.”

  “Uh… I’m pretty sure space is out of my jurisdiction,” says Ava, slumping onto a barstool. “So when did your… ghosting happen?”

  I sigh, though my lungs serve no function. It’s purely reflexive.

  “During my escape there were… complications—”

  “You stole a ship,” Miles unhelpfully remembers.

  “I had no other choice. There was a pursuit, something with the portal went wrong, and when I arrived here, this is the state I found myself in. No boat, no body, no idea where I was, the rocks somehow connected to my spirit.”

  “Okay…” Callie says, pacing back and forth, winding her mass of copper curls around itself until it stays in place. “So you came through the portal, something went wrong… The rocks are the portal?”

  “Oui.”

  “This blue stuff is the inside… One of those big rocks exploded when you came through and I think you somehow got tied to that magic—”

  “Suddenly believin’ in magic, are ye?”

  Callie throws the Englishman a glare.

  “This gate goes back to Atlantis, back to the city of a thousand gates. Think of what there is to discover,” I say.

  “Like the cure to your affliction?” Miles asks dryly, arching his brow.

  “I doubt that exists, mon ami.”

  “Yer not openin’ that portal up,” Seamus says, pouring himself another drink. “Tha’s a huge vulnerability in the middle o’ town. Elves wanted to fuck off through their gates, leave ‘em be.”

  “What’s your problem with elves?” Ava asks. I’m not sure why she’s annoyed, but she clearly is.

  “They’re Fae that think they’re better than Fae. Used to just come and go as they please through their portals. One day the portals stopped. Good riddance, I say.”

  “How have I literally never heard about this?” Ava asks, bewildered.

  Seamus shrugs. “When was it relevant?”

  “Even if we don’t want to open it, we don’t want anyone else doing it either,” Raj says. “Callie’s research is too valuable to forget.”

  Suddenly, Callie’s posture changes, pride surging through her.

  “I would like to get that back…” she says, looking off into the distance with a frown. “But if Trenton stole it — and I can’t imagine anyone else would’ve — then the cops will have it by now. He’s a murder victim. They’ll want to go through all his belongings with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “That detective already told me they have it,” Miles says, almost afraid to speak up.

  “Right, so… I guess it’s safe in evidence?” she sighs, tossing her hands up in defeat.

  Kush scoffs. “With the muggles? You’re kidding, right?”

  “Kush, you can’t go around calling people muggles,” Ava mutters. “There are already enough questions.”

  He smirks, a hand coming up over her shoulder from behind, squeezing. She leans into it until it’s a one-handed massage.

  “Well, I don’t know how to get them to release it,” Callie says. At least someone is focused.

  “Why not… release it ourselves?” I ask.

  “You mean steal it?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

  “He’s a pirate, what do you expect?” says Miles, arms folded.

  “I’m not going to rob a police station,” Callie cries.

  “Not you,” I reply, eyes sliding to Miles.

  “Him? You’re kidding right? They’re investigating him for murder, and you want him to steal evidence related to the case?”

  “The police station isn’t one room. We don’t even know where the evidence is kept.”

  “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” Callie’s nearly shrieking, eye
s wide as saucers.

  “I am able to walk through walls unseen, I am only bound by the stones—”

  “You could find where it’s being kept if someone could get you close enough…” Callie murmurs, catching on fast as usual.

  “Let’s go,” Miles says, already putting gloves on, shrugging into his leather jacket.

  “Miles, wait, there’s got to be a better—”

  “While you’re trying to figure out a better plan, someone else is going to go this route and we’ll be too late. C’mon Henri.”

  “You happy now?” Callie shrieks at me. “You came up with the worst possible plan and he’s actually going to go along with it. He’s going to get himself thrown in jail. He’s—”

  “Mon cherie, I do not disagree with you, but if I’m going to go with him, I must go now before he’s out of range.”

  I do not linger long enough to hear Callie’s reply.

  26

  Miles

  “Mon ami, you don’t have to do this,” Henri says, appearing out of nowhere before I’ve put my helmet on.

  “I know.”

  “It’s too risky, Callie is right. Wait until they have another plan.”

  “This was your idea,” I grumble, helmet going on.

  “Oui, je le sais. I know, but perhaps it is not the best idea still. Not all of my ideas are good, you know.”

  I snort. “That’s an understatement.”

  The motorcycle revs to life, and as I start to move with it, Henri’s whisked along, attached to me through the stone.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “I need to make this right for her. It’s the one thing I can do. I screwed up not telling her about all this stuff, and I really don’t know how she even feels about it. Hell, I don’t know how I feel about it because I don’t know what it means. And now all this stuff about her being a siren? A creature that’s notorious for luring men to violent watery deaths…”

  “Something you’re immune to, no?”

  “I don’t know… Maybe?”

  Despite the roar of the engine, we can hear each other perfectly, some magic of the crystal, I guess.

  “Still, there’s her dad, who hates me, and maybe he’s got a good reason to. He thinks keeping her away from the ocean is the only way to protect her from herself.”

  “You don’t know that,” he insists. “Keeping important information from her is crippling her. How can she make an informed decision?”

  I hate that he’s got a point. I hate listening to him at all, but damned if I can get him to shut up.

  “Wouldn’t you want to know? Would you have liked to have your nature kept from you your whole life? She needs to see what she can do. If the ocean calls to her, she should answer.”

  “Maybe. But if we’re wrong? Callie’s mom is gone. I can’t… I can’t lose her. If she’s just in another state or something, that’s one thing, but not like that. I can’t.” I’m grateful for the helmet and gloves, so Henri doesn’t see me biting back tears, doesn’t see my knuckles white on the handlebars. I lost her once, and I thought that was the worst thing that could happen, but now I realize how much worse it could get.

  Our relationship isn’t like it was. It’s changed and grown. I need her to be safe. Even if it means making a tough decision.

  “Mon ami…” Henri sighs. “I do not want anything to happen to her either,” he says. “But this is who she is. Are you perhaps afraid she might be more powerful than you?”

  “I’m worried about what her powers… It doesn’t matter.” I have to resist the urge to toss the shard just to be rid of him. I need him. Even if he is a know-it-all pain in my ass.

  Besides, now everyone knows about him. There’ll be questions if he disappears.

  “You might have a point about letting her explore her powers… in a controlled, careful way. Maybe. But why the hell are you being so helpful about this? You seem more like the kind of guy to steal the girl, not play wingman.” It’s very suspicious. I already don’t trust him, but after having been separated and him going through who knows what with who knows who, I really don’t trust his motives. Especially not when it comes to Callie. Especially not when he’s being so… encouraging. It’s weird and unsettling.

  “Perhaps if I could, I would steal the girl. But what could I do? I have no corporeal form. I’m a relic from a dead age, trapped in limbo by a technology from a civilization no one’s heard from in centuries. I am in no position to get any girl, but the least I can do is help a friend find happiness.”

  It’s weirdly wholesome coming from a pirate ghost. I don’t know how I feel about it. I guess touched? Definitely still suspicious.

  “There’s the police station,” I say, instead of replying to that.

  “We need to be closer.”

  Already being a block away, I’m starting to feel sweaty and nervous, flashbacks of the interrogation running through my head.

  They’ve cleared me, though. They found evidence that it’s someone else that killed Callie’s ex.

  Still, it’s weird to hang around the police station without a reason. I need a cover story.

  Probably should’ve thought that through before I waltzed out of The Shamrock like a man with a plan.

  On the website for the department, there’s a list of things to call the non-emergency line for: noise complaints, nuisance complaints, road hazards, crimes not in progress…

  Most of the things would involve pointing a finger at someone. Making an obviously false police report. That’s definitely not something I need to do while I’m still being looked at under a magnifying glass. But…

  With all this rain, there’s plenty of flooded sections of road, especially down near the houseboat. It’s not something I’d normally bother calling in about, because what are they going to do? But it’s definitely listed on the website as things to call the non-emergency number for, so… It’s a plausible enough story, right?

  It seems like the kind of thing an old man with nothing better to do on a weekday morning would complain about. Especially in person.

  Maybe Lucas and Logan have a point. They keep telling me I’m ancient, but I chalked it up to nephews being a pain. I can’t think of a better excuse to talk to the cops that’s equally harmless so it’s what I go with, whether it makes me one step shy of the crypt keeper or not.

  My heart’s in my throat parking outside the station, praying this doesn’t make me look like some kind of lunatic, not even thinking ahead to the next step after Henri locates the evidence room. That’s when things get really crazy.

  Crazier than me talking to myself outside the police station.

  “Okay, so I’m going to go in and file a report, stall as much as I can. If you can’t find it with the perimeter we’re working with, I’ll find an excuse to move to another part of the station. Sound good?”

  “Sounds foolhardy, mon ami. Why not wait for a better idea?”

  My molars grind together automatically, and my hands clench before I can get my gloves off.

  “You heard those guys. That portal opens again, we don’t know what will happen. What it could do to this area, who might come out of it… You said it yourself, there might even be monsters. We’ve got enough of those in this world already, and frankly, I think enough magical bullshit to deal with without someone else deciding to crack this thing wide open.”

  I can’t imagine I look sane to anyone passing by. Luckily, I don’t notice anyone near, so I think my little tirade to thin air went unnoticed.

  “Let us get on with it then,” Henri says, going ahead, testing the limits of how far he can go.

  He’s already moving through a wall when I reach the front desk where there’s a bored-looking uniformed officer clicking around on his computer screen. He doesn’t look up when I approach the desk, and I can’t help but feel sorry for the droopy potted trees behind him, leaves crunchy and brown.

  I clear my throat, surprised he hasn’t already ack
nowledged me.

  “What do you need?” he asks, the same tone the twins use on my sister when she interrupts their video games.

  “Hi, I uh… I wanted to make a report about some road hazards? Flooding. From all the rain, you know?”

  That gets an eyebrow raise out of the cop, a good once-over, probably trying to figure out how an eighty-year-old man has inhabited this young person’s body.

  “You want to report wet roads?” he asks.

  “Not wet… flooded. Isn’t that important for you to know? For… response purposes?” I’m struggling and it’s painfully obvious, but this guy isn’t going to help me at all and I’m on my own.

  “The form in slot H,” he says, pointing to a wall organizer full of papers, each file spot labeled, some crooked, some peeling, at least one misspelled — ‘affidavid’ — but there’s a big capital letter on each folder so it’s not hard to find H.

  Grabbing the form, I look around for Henri, but he’s nowhere to be found.

  Great. There’s no way for me to communicate with him either. I’m stuck here until I know he’s back with me.

  We really didn’t think this through at all.

  The form is pretty standard stuff, and I take my sweet time filling it out, waiting for Henri. I get it completely filled out, and there’s still no sign of him.

  If I hand this form in, there’s no reason for me to keep hanging around, so I can’t do that.

  “Mon ami,” Henri says, bursting through the wall in front of me. It takes just about every bit of stoicism I possess to not jump back with a scream. Luckily, I’ve been half expecting something like this. “Come this way,” he says, moving toward a door.

  I glance at the officer behind the front desk, and he seems to be lost in the world of sports. If I just act like I belong, move with enough purpose, maybe no one will ask any questions.

  I make it three steps past the desk when the officer says, “I take that over here,” curling his fingers in a gimme motion.

  Henri gives me a look, encouraging me to make a break for it probably, to just run for it, but this is the first of many obstacles between here and the evidence room.