Chapter 16
Quinn
When Torrent had said his friend was a leprechaun, I guessed I hadn’t totally believed him. That was, until I found myself in front of a spritely shadowkind man who couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, with a twinkle in his eye, a dimple in his rosy cheeks, and heaps of reddish-gold curls. He even had a gold pin in the shape of a four-leaf clover clipped to the lapel of his trim forest-green suit.
It must have been because of the suit that he kept the air conditioning in here so cool my skin had broken out in goosebumps. I resisted the urge to rub my arms for heat.
“Goldie,” Torrent said in greeting in his usual even tone. I couldn’t tell whether the nickname came from the hair or the golden teeth the leprechaun flashed in his smile, which I assumed were his unalterable “monstrous” feature and not a fashion choice, although he must have passed them off as the latter. Torrent had said he didn’t even know the guy’s real name, that everyone had called the leprechaun “Goldie” for centuries.
It was weird thinking that the petite man who could have passed for a preteen in the right light had centuries under his belt. But it was even more weird when he leaned against the shelving unit in the back of his pawn shop, where we’d met him, and his eyes sharpened with a sudden maturity that made those centuries abruptly plausible despite the youthfulness of his face.
“It’s been a while, Torrent,” he said. “Where did you slosh off to?” His gaze lingered on Torrent’s marred cheek as if he wasn’t used to seeing it, but he didn’t comment on the damage.
“I took up other habits,” Torrent said, folding his arms over his chest. He’d propped himself against the door frame the second he’d appeared from the shadows—without his tentacles. I could see subtle signs of strain in his stance already, but he obviously didn’t want his friend realizing the extent of his injuries. “It looks like you’ve kept up your typical line of business. Whatever anyone needs, you can get it for them, and fast—is that how it still goes?”
The normally-tentacled man glanced around the back room with its shelves packed with a wild assortment of antiques and modern-day collectables. A stack of Elvis records sat next to an ornately carved mantle clock, a boxed action figure I vaguely recognized beside that. I didn’t see anything in here that could solve our problems, though.
Crag shifted his weight where he flanked me. It was a tight squeeze in here with the four of us—Lance was prowling through the shadows outside, keeping an eye on the area. Apparently Miami was a hotbed of shadowkind activity, to the point that Torrent had figured I was safer meeting his long-time associate than hanging around anywhere else near the city.
He’d asked Crag to stay visible and with me at all times as a sort of disguise for me. He’d pointed out that if his friend picked up on my “special” threatening vibe, the leprechaun should naturally attribute it to the man who actually looked like a threat.
I couldn’t deny the cleverness of the strategy. Too bad it wouldn’t work on the beings who were already hunting a mortal girl.
Goldie rubbed his slim hands together. “Of course I can get you whatever you’re after. It’s my particular gift. And I’m always happy to help out a friend, especially one I owe at least a few favors to still. What is it you’re looking for?”
“A boat and a car,” Torrent said. “With key specifications.” He motioned to Crag, who stepped forward just far enough to hand the leprechaun a piece of paper, and I realized that maybe the gargoyle was also here as part of the show of Torrent’s competence. Crag could move around when Torrent couldn’t easily, and they made it look as if he was merely a lackey doing his boss’s bidding.
Why was it so important to him to hide his injuries from his friend?
As I puzzled over that question, Goldie scanned the list of features and clucked his tongue. “This is doable. Definitely doable. The boat isn’t difficult at all—I’m sure I can set you up with something appropriate right now. The car will take a little longer, but I should have it ready by midnight. You want it waiting in Daytona Beach?”
I tamped down my surprise as Torrent nodded. It made sense that he didn’t want anyone knowing our actual destination, right? It wouldn’t be a long drive from there back to Jacksonville.
“No trouble at all.” Goldie tucked the paper into his breast pocket and peered up at the taller man speculatively. “What’s all this for? You got bored of swimming?”
Torrent chuckled as if our mission was of no great importance. “I’ve been branching out into all kinds of new activities. An opportunity popped up that I hadn’t anticipated but wanted to take advantage of. Glad I happened to be in the neighborhood. I knew I could count on you to supply the goods.”
“Well, if you want to become more of a regular customer, I’m good for whatever you want. And open to all kinds of payment.” The twinkle in the leprechaun’s eye turned a little more pointed as his gaze swept over me. “A piece this pretty would be worth a few cars.”
He’d barely finished speaking when Crag lunged forward, his massive arm sweeping in front of me protectively, the rest of him looming over Goldie, who looked miniscule beneath him. “She isn’t for sale,” he barked.
I gripped his forearm, startled by his vehemence—and abruptly twice as conscious of the firm muscles flexing all across his frame. Having him tuck me against his chest had warmed me this morning; now that warmth blazed into a spike of pure heat like when he’d loomed over me on the cabin floor.
Torrent motioned for Crag to back down. “Goldie can’t resist looking for a bargain. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Not at all,” the leprechaun agreed with a playful tug of his suit jacket. “More complicated dealing with mortals than it’s generally worth anyway. She’s all yours, big guy. Although I’m sure you’re getting your share too.” He winked at Torrent.
Crag let out a disgruntled huff as if he didn’t quite believe the man’s intentions were innocent, and I had to hold myself back from clarifying that I wasn’t Crag’s, not like that—or Torrent’s for that matter. But maybe it was better if Goldie thought I was.
The memory came back to me of Torrent rising up in front of the shadowkind horde in the park and declaring me theirs. Somehow the idea wasn’t so chilling now.
The leprechaun stepped to the side to make a quick call and then gave Torrent directions for where to find the boat at the Miami Beach Marina. I memorized them silently, knowing I was going to have to make the trek there without much other guidance. None of my shadowkind men could stroll around downtown Miami without drawing way too much concerned attention from my fellow humans.
We left quickly, me walking through the shop and the men vanishing into the shadows. I hailed an Uber to take me to the marina, knowing they’d slip into the patches of darkness inside the vehicle to join me.
The boat turned out to be a small motor yacht: one large cabin room with a tiny deck on the bow and larger shaded one on the roof. As I stepped on board, grabbing the railing to steady myself against the bobbing in the water, my three companions materialized beyond the glossy windows. I stepped into the cabin to meet them.
It was a fairly tight space with a long, curved leather sofa along one wall behind the navigation area and a narrow set of cupboards built into the other. Down a few steps lay a double bed that took up most of the cramped bedroom. The ceiling was low enough that Crag had to hunch his shoulders to avoid bonking his head.
I set my messenger bag down on the bed and checked my phone to see if I should start charging it. Torrent moved to the captain’s seat and started poking at the controls, his tentacles sprawling over the sides of the padded chair.
“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” I asked him, coming back up the steps. He looked awfully sure of himself.
“When you’ve been around for several centuries, you pick up a wide variety of skills,” he said matter-of-factly. The engine started with a rumble. “We’ll travel out beyond view of the land and then head toward Daytona Beach. By the time we get there, it’ll be starting to get dark anyway. As the sun goes down, we need to stay on the move.”
“In the car you asked Goldie for?”
He nodded. “It’ll go a lot faster than the boat—and most of our investigations will need to be conducted on land anyway.”
I hadn’t really seen him in his element before, I realized. He could fight when he needed to, sure, but he was a planner. A commander. And now he could actually direct some action instead of sitting around trying to figure out a solution in the cabin’s shadows. Maybe he’d never really wanted to hole up there in the first place—it’d only been for my benefit, while he’d thought the protections around the building would shield me.
There was a deeper assurance to his stance while he rested his hands on the controls, an air of unshakeable power. Suddenly it wasn’t all that hard to imagine why Goldie might have assumed his friend could easily get other kinds of action too.
I yanked my gaze away, tamping down the unexpected jolt of attraction, and glanced around. “And we don’t have to worry about attacks from other shadowkind out here during the day?”
“Too much sunshine, not enough shadow!” Lance said. “No beasties are getting close to us unless they put on a show for the mortals—and they know how to swim.”
“There were higher shadowkind in the last attack,” I had to point out. “Couldn’t they take a boat out just like we are?”
Torrent shrugged. “They could if they think they can find us. We won’t stay in one place for long even in the boat, and they won’t be able to bring a whole army of back-up. If they try, we’ll deal with them.”
He spoke with so much authority that I believed him. He should know his own kind better than I did, shouldn’t he?
I collapsed onto the sofa, the stress of the day washing over me. But when the speedy boat had left land far behind, Lance and Crag headed out to climb to the rooftop deck, and my curiosity propelled me after them.
The rush of the salty ocean air reinvigorated my spirits. I turned my face to the wind, warmed by the late afternoon sunlight radiating over me, and then sprawled out on one of the deck chairs. The padding embraced my body. I could get used to this kind of life, at least for a little while.
After a few minutes, Torrent materialized to lean against the railing, one tentacle looped around a bar. He must have gotten the boat on the right course and left it on autopilot.
My stomach chose that moment to grumble. Loudly. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and now that the panic of getting to safety was wearing off, it occurred to me that I’d somehow missed lunch quite a while ago.
Lance cocked an amused eyebrow at me from where he was perched on one of the other lounge chairs. “I think your insides are demanding food.”
I swallowed thickly. It wasn’t good for my continuing health to skip meals, but one small slip shouldn’t be too big a deal. “It’s not like there are any grocery stores or restaurants we can pop into out here. I’ll survive until we get to Daytona Beach.”
Crag stared out over the open water and grunted. “I can catch you something.” He spared a brief glance at Torrent and then sprang into the air, transforming into his winged gargoyle body in mid-leap.
Lance whooped and jumped onto the railing, balancing on his nimble feet and then showing off with a slow cartwheel. Torrent’s mouth flattened. He turned to face the other direction.
I didn’t totally follow what was going on until there was a distant splash and Crag returned with two foot-long fish speared on his gargoyle claws. They were still twitching a little.
Lance had mentioned that Crag liked to hunt—and that Torrent wasn’t super keen on seeing random animals killed. Funny from a guy who’d ripped apart who knew how many creatures of his own kind to protect me.
I caught his gaze. “It really bothers you, seeing mortal animals killed?”
The tentacled man gave a shrug as if trying to brush off the subject. “You need to eat. It isn’t a problem. I prefer not to see creatures in pain that haven’t done anything to deserve it, though, yes.”
Ah. So it’d been the fact that those other beasties had been trying to kill me—or him—first that’d made the difference. Maybe it’d been unfair of me to assume his approach would lack that kind of nuance. All three of my monstrous defenders had turned out to be more complex than the average brute.
Crag brandished the fish in my direction. “Mackerel.” Then he held out his rocky hands toward the dragon shifter. “A little fire?”
Lance grinned and hopped down from the railing. “Happy to supply.” He breathed over the fish, the air in front of his mouth wavering with more heat than he’d applied to my wounds, and the creatures’ scaled skin crackled and crisped like our breakfast bacon.
Crag set the fish on the deck table next to my lounge chair. “Wait,” he ordered me in his gruff way. “They should be cool enough in a few minutes.”
I basked in the sun’s rays until the savory smell of roasted mackerel had my mouth watering too much to ignore. I picked up one of the fish gingerly and found that the crispy skin peeled off without much trouble. The cooked flesh underneath flaked from the bones at my nibbling, the mildly fishy flavor both salty and sweet with a smoky undertone from Lance’s cooking efforts.
“You two should open a restaurant,” I said, digging in more eagerly.
Lance snorted. “What would they make of a chef with claws? Maybe I should find out sometime.” He twisted his torso in a stretch that brought me straight back to our interlude last night, feeling those taut planes of muscle pressed against me.
I licked my lips and yanked my attention back to the fish in my hands.
Torrent had vanished during the cooking. I wasn’t sure if he was even still on the boat until I’d finished off the second fish, my stomach much happier with me than before. As Lance whisked the remains up to dump them into the water, the leader of our motley crew reappeared right in front of me.
“You’ve gotten the nourishment you needed,” Torrent said. “Now it’s time to start our investigations.”
I blinked up at him, the somberness of his gaze making me uncertain. “How are we going to do that out here in the middle of the ocean?”
“This is hardly the middle of the ocean,” he said dryly. “But we don’t need anything other than what’s on this boat. You were right before that we need to understand not just our opponents but also what’s drawing them in. And I’m thinking we should start by analyzing the energy right at its source: you.”