He arrived promptly, a sure indication that he was broke. While he half-listened to Bubba, enough to parrot the appropriate answers, the focus of his attention was my T-shirt. Apparently the jacket wasn’t doing as good a job of concealing things as I’d hoped. Terrific.
“You’ve got my cell number. Call me if anything comes up. If you can’t get me, call Mona.” Bubba was repeating himself, but it was probably a good idea. Sometimes you have to use a sledgehammer to drive a point home to Stewie.
“I got it already.” Stew wrenched his gaze away from my boobs long enough to glare at his brother-in-law. “It’s not like it’s the first time and it’s not like it’s rocket science. Give me some credit.”
I went downstairs to write Dottie a note about the wards before I could say anything unfortunate. Bubba followed a few minutes later.
We drove to the PharMart in Bubba’s behemoth of a four-wheel-drive truck. It’s an older model but tricked out with every conceivable luxury, including the requisite chromed mud flaps with a naked woman and a bumper sticker proclaiming him a “PROUD REDNECK.” He calls the truck Baby. His vanity plates say: BADA55. How he got that past the censors at the DMV I’ll never know.
PharMart is one of the bigger pharmacy chains. The stores are all pretty much identical: big tan brick boxes with windows all along the front. Their product selection is good and they’re not terribly overpriced. This particular store is the one where I usually get my prescriptions filled. It was also the site where Bruno, Matteo, and I had set the trap for Lilith that had gone so terribly wrong.
More important, that was where Dahlmar had given me my sire’s head.
Better than roses, in my opinion.
I felt the power of the PharMart’s wards buzz across my senses as Bubba steered the truck into the parking lot. It didn’t occur to me until we were pulling up next to the Ferrari to wonder how Creede had managed to drive three large men in that tiny two-seater. Had the king ridden in his bodyguard’s lap? Creede was leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette, looking perfectly comfortable and casual. I assumed Dahlmar was in the car, hidden behind the tinted windows. Ivan wasn’t visible, but I was betting he wasn’t in the car. Probably out of sight somewhere, keeping an eye on things.
They had passed test one. The real Dahlmar and Ivan would know about PharMart. Fakes wouldn’t. Of course I’d still spray them all down. In this game, safe was definitely better than sorry.
“So what’s the game plan?” Bubba asked. I’d filled him in on some of what was going on. Not all. I hadn’t had a chance to ask King Dahlmar if I could reveal his identity, so I hadn’t given Bubba any names.
“You stay here. I get out and make sure they’re what and who they’re supposed to be. If they are, we head out for your boat.”
“It’s going to be a little crowded if we’re all going.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But I’m hoping that getting out on the water will make it harder for people to use mundane magic to track us.” I unfastened my seat belt and turned to open the truck door.
“Mundane magic?”
I sighed. I probably shouldn’t have worded it that way. “As opposed to siren magic. Sirens are water creatures. The ocean’s their thing.”
“You’re a siren now,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, but I don’t have magic.” I sounded grumpy. Then again, I felt grumpy. Funny, when I was growing up, I’d wanted desperately to have some sort of paranormal talent. I’d failed the tests so miserably that they’d checked to make sure I wasn’t a null. I wasn’t. But back then, I hadn’t been a siren, either.
But so far, other than the illegal psychic manipulation and the ability to drive seagulls insane, I haven’t discovered any magical ability.
It was ironic. All of the kids I went to school with had some sort of talent. I’d wanted one so bad, just so I could fit in. Now that I did have paranormal abilities, I desperately wished I was rid of them. Some people are just never satisfied.
Bubba turned, unfastening his seat belt.
“I thought you were staying here.”
“Groceries.” He pulled out his wallet to check the contents. “More people, more supplies. We’ll need a few things. I won’t be long.”
I couldn’t argue. It was a sensible thing to do. We were going to be out on the boat several hours at least. At least. Bubba swore he knew where the Isle of Serenity was. But the wards around the island had pushed his boat away. He’d tried, but he couldn’t even swim underneath with the poles.
I wasn’t kidding about Bubba being a fisherman. The fish near the sirens’ island stay inside the magic circle. Bubba could see them, but he couldn’t cast to them. It’s enough to drive any boat captain to drink—or to try to swim through the barrier. With his fishing pole in his mouth.
Speaking of drinking, I’d probably have to go inside and stock up on the ever-handy but God-am-I-sick-of-them diet shakes and some baby food. I swear, if the vamp that tried to sire me wasn’t already dead I’d hunt him down and kill him—as painfully as possible.
Get your mind in the game, Celia, I scolded myself. Right now I needed to chat with my client and let Creede know the plan. Then I could do the shopping and move on to the next thing.
I am not a particularly small woman, but there’s a certain knack to getting in and out of a vehicle that big. By the time I’d finished climbing down from Das Truck, Bubba was already inside the PharMart. Creede had crushed out his cigarette and the passenger window of the Ferrari had lowered to reveal Dahlmar’s profile.
I pulled out one of my little squirt guns. “Who wants to go first?” Creede rolled his eyes but extended his hand. I squeezed the gun’s trigger, just enough to lay a couple of drops of holy water onto his palm. The problem with one-shot water guns is that they hold just that . . . one shot. Pull the trigger and you might as well throw the thing away until you refill.
No reaction. Creede was Creede. Actually, I’d known that from the scent and the effect his magic had on my skin. If he noticed that all the hairs on my arms were standing at attention, he didn’t mention it.
The success with Creede didn’t keep me from repeating the process with King Dahlmar. When Ivan showed up, I’d do him, too. In the meantime, just to make sure they were comfy with me, I sprayed my own palm.
“Who was that man?” King Dahlmar snarled. Apparently “we” were still miffed about having to sleep in an office and wait twenty-four hours for a meeting. I was kind of surprised he hadn’t met Bubba during his sleepover, but there you go.
“That’s Bubba. He is a friend and he owns the boat that is going to take me to where we think the Isle of Serenity is.”
“You’ve arranged the meeting? Good.” Either he missed the “me” and the fact that I wasn’t actually sure where I was going or he was ignoring it. I was betting on the latter. “This Bubba—do you vouch for him?”
“I do.”
“I do not like it.” Ivan’s voice shattered the illusion that had made him appear to be a newspaper vending machine. It startled me enough that I let out one of those girly little yelps. Creede snickered; Ivan looked smug. I couldn’t really blame him. I’d only ever seen one other mage do that. A few weeks ago, Bruno had done an impersonation of a rubber tree so he could sit in on a meeting where he wasn’t wanted. It hadn’t been easy for him and he is one hell of a mage. That Ivan could do the same thing raised my estimation of his skill level considerably. His lips stretched into what could only loosely be termed a smile, but he held out his palm for the requisite test. He passed.
“You arranged a meeting with the sirens?” Creede was scornful. That pissed me off. Who the hell did he think he was dealing with? But I bit back the first response that came to mind and answered him politely.
“Supposedly, the queen has been wanting to see me for a while now.” I didn’t mention the fact that they were already pissed in front of the client. That was something better shared privately, when we were doing our planning, if at all.
“How’d they contact you?” he snapped.
I tried not to be too obvious about glaring at him. He was questioning my abilities, my authority, and my judgment. If this was how he thought our partnership was going to work, he was sorely mistaken.
He didn’t wilt at the look, but I hadn’t really expected him to. He’s used to running things, being the big dog. I’m used to being my own woman. If we really were going to make a business relationship work, we needed to iron out the kinks. But, again, not in front of the client.
“They left word for me at Birchwoods.”
“I do not like this,” Ivan repeated. “It could be a setup.”
“I’m with you, big guy,” Creede agreed.
“That’s all right. The three of you won’t be going to the island with me, so even if it is a setup, it doesn’t matter. You’ll stay on the boat with Bubba.”
“And how am I supposed to work my magic from the boat?” Creede asked.
“You won’t be doing any magic until I’ve cleared it with their queen.”
Dahlmar scowled. “I do not wish to proceed in this manner. I will meet the queen.”
Creede stared at me thoughtfully and finally nodded. “Celia’s right. She needs to lay a foundation. It makes sense to let her do the preliminary groundwork. The only way this is going to work is with the queen’s support.”
Well, hallefrickinlujah. Apparently he wasn’t going to argue every decision I made, just the ones he didn’t like. I took a deep breath and tried to look professional. I didn’t feel professional. I was angry. I didn’t need the men questioning my every move. If I’d thought it was sexism, I would’ve been even more pissed, but my gut instinct said that this was just good-old-fashioned paranoia.
Ivan didn’t argue, but I could tell from his expression that he was annoyed.
