me off. But before you go, I need to tell you something.
He sounded serious and I felt myself still. What?
Rick paused, and I could have sworn he was milking the theatrics. Look for the others.
I was paying attention now. Something in his tone. What do you mean, the others?
Look for them. Those who are hurting. And those who will help you. Only you can do it.
My fingers started drumming on my leg. Rick. What in hell does that mean?
It was Rick’s turn to shrug. Sorry, sister, that’s all I’ve got.
My hand stilled on my leg. Are you serious?
Rick had the good grace to look kind of sheepish. For a dolphin. Yep, sorry, gotta fly. Or swim, rather. The pod’s calling. Outta here.
I reached out for him as he started to slide away. Wait, hang on. How will I know where to look? For the hurting? And the helpers?
Rick stood straight up in the water, his tail twitching, a habitual thinking gesture. Listen to the visions. They’ll guide you.
Then the whole pod was gone. Just bubbles and a pinkish aura where they’d been. And a million more unanswered questions in my mind.
My eyes met Lecanora’s as I closed the gap between us. And then I saw him, floating beside some rush mats laden with food, with the casual arrogance of a King, talking to a blonde who could earn a million bucks a day on the catwalks of my world. But he was looking right at me instead. A red-blonde wolf, with a body like a fighter. Looking at me like he’d seen a ghost.
He recovered quickly and as the rush and shock of the moment subsided I saw he was eating Abermonth with his fingers. He held my eyes as he bit deliberately into the soft, fleshy center of the dark vegetable with a lupine look in his eyes.
I suddenly remembered the other reason Abermonth was served at weddings.
It’s an aphrodisiac.
I got all squirmy and warm as the recollection settled in my brain, and slowly, but very surely, spread lower. You know, I’ve never really gone for mermen. Too much angel, not enough pirate. I never imagined I’d break that rule, even for a beautiful merman that had lain wet and naked in my arms. But I took one look at this guy and had to try real hard to convince myself that the reason I needed to talk to him was to get to the bottom of the mystery of Blondie.
He knocked on the door of my mind, and I felt his potency and wanted to give up and let him in. Like damsels have done for Kings since the beginning of time. But there was no way I could let him in with all those impolite thoughts swilling around.
He shrugged, swam over and used that wild and beautiful Aegiran speech instead. “Hello, woman of intense desires. Where are you going in such haste?”
Oh man, I dig the way these fish-folk talk.
“Guess it’s my turn to rush off,” I responded, going for casual, like naked men crash through shower curtains onto me and then disappear again within moments every day.
“Ah, yes, I am sorry about that.”
He smiled at me for the first time, intensely, in a way that reached right inside my lungs and took up all the space. I could tell he was not a guy who smiled easily. He looked like every misunderstood anti-hero down through time. Dark and cool all at once.
I wanted to be cool too. I wanted to play hard to get.
I’ve never been impressed by hot guys. I don’t trust them. I don’t like them.
And I definitely don’t get all girly around them.
But I annoyed myself by responding shakily. “You need to help me with some things.”
“Of course.” There was sorrow in his voice and my brain flitted to Blondie.
And then back to him, this man who was looking at me in that direct, arrogant way tall, dark, mysterious strangers have been using to mess with women’s heads for centuries. He could have been Mr Darcy or James Dean or Antonio Banderas in Interview With A Vampire.
But he wasn’t.
He was a merman, and they’re not supposed to look like this. They’re polite. They touch your eyelids and murmur ritual greetings. They establish lineage.
But it looked like no-one told him the rules.
He stared deep into my eyes. “You are right. We have much to discuss.” His mer-voice was low and slow. Deeper than any merman I’d ever heard. The aural equivalent of stubble scraping