“Would you believe me if I said I was a good Samaritan?”
“You can be good and still do bad things.”
“I suspect you speak from experience.” He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs on the table, careful not to touch the cards with his polished, black leather shoes.
“Hey guy, you’re the one that helped me out of the car. You could’ve waited for the ambulance people to do it. Are you like a wizard? Because out of everything I’ve seen the past few days, that’s one I haven’t gotten around to.”
Comit smiles, holding up his cane for me to see. The staff is dark cherry wood. Tiny wings, leaves, and intertwining branches are carved carefully all along it. It ends with a golden arrowhead, which makes a sharp click sound when he slams it on the floor.
“When I was told to be careful of the Sea People trolling about on the boardwalk, I had no idea they meant you.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I get up, knocking my chair back. “Know what? I don’t even know you, man.”
“Tristan, please.” Comit stands and places a hand on my arm. “I only meant that I’ve seen you on the boardwalk. Even in the throngs of people, you stood out, and now I understand why.”
“That’s not creepy at all.” I pick up my chair and settle back down.
“I can identify with being different. That’s why I chose to make a home here in Coney Island.”
“Different? You look pretty normal to me.” Then I add, “normalish.”
Comit laughs and rests his staff across his lap. “I was one of nine kids. Father was a ranch hand in Wyoming, and I was so little that no one paid attention to me.
“Then one day, my dad realized there was something different about me. The farm animals listened to me and did as I asked. From the stallions to the barn mice. He tried to beat it out of me a few times. Said, ‘God would never make something so unnatural.’” At the last bit, he takes on a drawl. I wonder how many times he’s said it to himself.
“But in the end,” he continues, “my daddy was smart. Knew how to stay alive. Decided God don’t make imperfections. Made a few bucks off me.”
I break the intensity of his eyes by checking on Kai. She makes a whimpering noise from the couch and curls up even tighter, like she’s in a cocoon.
“Lucky for me, the circus rolled in. I ran off. Started as a lion tamer. Ain’t no one in any state had a lion tamer so young. I made my own way through this.” He holds his hands out and balls them into fists, as if everything he is can be contained in the center of his palms. “And soon enough, a man found me and took me hunting in the Amazon, finding beasts that time has forgotten and creatures only ever seen on rotting pyramid walls. It was like peeling back my own skin and finding a new version of myself. Have you seen any monsters, Sea Prince?”
My mind flashes to the makara. The merrows. Nieve’s face. “Yes.”
“I mean like beasts. I mean creatures that roam in the shadows of our world while we try to make it so—livable. After the Amazon, he brought me here to run things. Downstairs is filled with the most exquisite beings on this plane and others.”
The taper candles are long and bright; their flickering flames seem to have a sway of their own. Outside is the faint sound of sirens and commotion. Then there’s the echo of laughter coming from somewhere downstairs. “So you’re a beast tamer?”
“I’m a beast master.”
“And you know what that thing that attacked me was?”
“It was a sea dragon.” He smacks his knee and practically shakes with excitement. “I’ve never seen one before, and boy, it was beautiful. You know, a lot of people think the Loch Ness monster is a dinosaur? But it’s not. It’s related to the family of sea dragons. Did you know that sea dragons are the only branch of the dragon family that can’t breathe fire?”
“I had no clue,” I say, trying to hold back a laugh.
“Not many people do. Nasty venom in the saliva. They’re supposed to be extinct. The few that are left are controlled by beings more powerful than you or me. I can tell you one thing. Whoever sent that creature