Authors: MaryJanice Davidson
Forty-six
They were all sprawled in various spots in the living room.
“Thank God,” Jonas moaned, “thank God Barb was out shopping for a wedding dress.”
“Thank God he made the classic Bond villain mistake,” Thomas said.
Fred, who was sprawled almost prone, sat up. “That’s exactly what I thought!”
“I cannot believe,” Mekkam was muttering, “that Wennd fooled me.”
“And me,” Tennian added. She and Artur and Mekkam were moving very gingerly and holding their heads; it was clear they had crushing headaches. “I’m sorry Thomas killed her; I so wanted that pleasure for myself.”
“And Thomas! Way to stud up, man! You threw that knife, what? Eight feet?
Zam
, right into her neck.” Jonas shook his head. “How many of those things do you have? And where do you keep them?
“Enough.” Thomas looked grim. “We got lucky. I was aiming for her eye.”
“But what was she doing here? Farrem said himself that he was the enhanced one, that he was lending his power to his followers.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jonas asked. Fred scowled, because it wasn’t. “He had her here just in case Fred didn’t warm up to him. He had no guarantee she’d be friendly—shit, he was probably amazed when she offered him a guest room.”
“Not one of your brighter moves,” Thomas needled.
“Tell me. And that reminds me. Call the fumigator.”
“So she was his ‘just in case.’ And he made sure the captain had the file,” Jonas added, clearly warming to his subject (he’d been a huge
Encyclopedia Brown
fan in elementary school), “because it was the one thing that would make Artur yell for his dad. Once Mekkam got here, it was inevitable that Fred would suggest what she did. Then Farrem had all the royals—the ones in this area, anyway—in one spot. If Fred had been vulnerable to his giant evil brain blasting power, it would have worked perfectly.”
“Fortunately,” Fred said cheerfully, “I’m defective.”
“So are all his followers,” Mekkam said, gingerly holding his head. “They died when he died. I felt it. He could no longer hide them from me, and without his protection, they were helpless.”
“But he
knew
Fred was—what was it? Mind blind? Why’d he still try it?”
“Because he was sure he and Wennd were more than a match for two worms and a freak,” Fred said sourly. “Classic Bond villain mistake number two.”
“Fredrika.”
“At least it’s over,” she said.
“Fredrika.”
“What?” And then she realized. It was Artur, and he wasn’t calling her my Rika, or Little Rika, or any term of endearment.
“Will you step outside with me?” he asked quietly and, with a glance at Thomas, she rose and followed him through the hole that used to be her front door.
They stood in the front yard (Farrem’s corpse was still on the back lawn), Artur with his arms crossed over his chest, Fred fidgeting.
“Thomas seemed quite sincere about his intentions toward you when he finished with your father’s body,” he said, mildly enough.
“Uh, yeah.”
“What are your thoughts on that?”
“That I’m a coward.”
He smiled. “Hardly.”
“I’m not in love with you, Artur, but I like you an awful lot. I think you’re awesome. But I can’t be your queen.”
Among other things, I can’t do that to the Undersea Folk gene pool.
And Thomas wants me. He wants me!
“Part of the reason I said yes was because I planned to spend the rest of my life hiding in the Black Sea. Running away from the messiness of hybrid life. It’s a rotten way to start a marriage, never mind a family. It would have been a shitty thing to do to you.”
“You were wrong. In your interview, you were wrong.”
That was so unexpected, she couldn’t immediately process it. “What?”
He took her hands in his, looking down into her eyes. “When you save an Undersea Folk—at least, when you save this one—you do get a wish. I release you from your word. You are no longer she-who-will-be-my-mate.”
She wrenched her hands away and flung her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Artur. Thank you, thank you. I’ll always be your friend. And the next time a megalomaniac tries to kill the royal family, you better come get me!”
He kissed the top of her head and hugged her back. “Agreed, Fredrika.”
And if he had seemed the smallest bit relieved, she was going to pretend she hadn’t noticed. She didn’t know if he had fallen out of love with her, or if he had realized that the chase was more fun than the engagement, and she didn’t care.
They would always be friends. He was, after all, her prince.
Forty-seven
It seemed like they were cleaning up the mess (it was considered strictly an Undersea Folk matter and, thank God, the nearest neighbor was too far away to have heard anything amiss) for hours.
Mekkam ate six Advil and took charge. Little by little, the bodies were taken away, the damage to her home was repaired (or at least boarded up), and by the time she had the house to herself (and her roommates), Fred was exhausted.
And slightly amazed. Because the Undersea Folk treated her like royalty. Ironic, given that she wasn’t ever going to be royalty.
They were anxious about the repairs to her rental—did they meet with her approval? Would she prefer another table? Was it all right if they couldn’t replace the patio glass until tomorrow? Because if not, they would see to it that—
The fight, it seemed, had been seen in the mind of all the Undersea Folk in the area. Farrem had been projecting everything, a sadistic touch to ensure their cooperation, to make sure they knew who was in charge. Knew who had taken over. Knew who was going to kill the king and prince.
Knew who was going to get his neck broken by a half-breed mind blind marine biologist with split ends.
“It’s almost a shame you’re not engaged to Artur anymore,” Jonas whispered to her, watching their deference in awe. “Also, I’m not speaking to you because I really, really wanted to plan a royal wedding.”
“Go soak your head,” she whispered back.
Amazing! All you had to do to earn their admiration was break your father’s neck on your back lawn.
* * *
“What a week,” she groaned, stumbling into her room. It was two thirty in the morning and she needed a shower in the worst way.
“Say it twice,” Thomas said. She heard the bedroom door close and realized with a start this was the first moment they’d had alone all day.
“Sit,” he ordered, and, sighing, she obeyed. He
would
go into M.D. mode, of course, even though she was perfectly fine except for a few cuts (from the patio glass) and bruises (from the fight). But she was a fast healer, and he didn’t need to poke or prod.
“Thomas, really, I’m—”
“I love you,” he said, bending so he could look her in the eyes. She could feel her own eyes widening. “I’ve always loved you. And I was stupid about it. I thought Artur was the best thing for you and I didn’t fight for you and I damned near made the worst mistake of my life. I’m scared shitless you’ll get hurt. I’m scared shitless I’ll have to hurt you again to fix you—like in Boston.
“But I’m even more scared at the prospect of a life without you. So we’re getting married. Right away.”
“Are you asking me?” she asked, feeling the bubble of joy spread from her heart all the way into her throat. It was actually hard to talk, she was so happy. “Or telling me?”
“Shut up and kiss me,” he said, smiling, and she did. In seconds they were rolling around on her bed, groping and kissing and moaning and clutching.
“Wait, wait,” she gasped. “I’m gross. I’ve still got Farrem’s blood under my nails.”
“I could use a shower, too.” For a moment he looked grim, and she realized the healer was wrestling with the avenging lover. “It’s not every day I throw a knife into a woman’s neck.”
“A woman who helped Farrem plot the deaths of hundreds, at the very least. Or did you think he was going to pick some other ridiculously beautiful woman to be his queen?”
“True enough. Come on.” He stood and held out a hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. “I’ll wash your back.”
“That’s nice. I’ll wash your front.”
And so they did, and when they were clean they stayed under the pounding spray, kissing until their lips were numb, soaping breasts and balls and buttocks, running slick hands all over slick flesh, gliding, sliding, and Fred was actually having trouble determining where one of them stopped and the other began.
And then, ah, God, he was lifting her, and entering her, and she was arching her back and meeting his thrusts, her fingers were digging into the heavy muscles of his shoulders, and at the height of her orgasm he kissed her on the side of her throat and she thought,
Home, home, I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere but right this minute I’m home, oh, thank you, God, I’m home at last.
Epilogue
“This dress itches.”
“Quit bitching, Fred.”
“And this bouquet has made me sneeze twice.”
“I mean it, Fred.”
“And I’m hot. It’s fucking ninety degrees out here and I’m in a floor-length dress!”
“So is Barb, so shut your hole.”
“When is this thing going to
start
already?”
“It has started. You’d just rather be off somewhere banging Thomas.”
“As a matter of fact, I would.”
“Disgusting,” Jonas said smugly, adjusting his bow tie. “You two are like monkeys.
Loud
monkeys.”
“Look who’s talking! How many scenes of debauchery have I walked in on? At least we’ve got the decency to keep to our bedroom.”
And our shower. And the hot tub. And the pool when everyone’s asleep. And—
“I get that you haven’t had sex in, what? Eight years?”
“Jonas,” she warned grimly.
“But you two are going to hurt each other if you keep trying to make up for lost time.”
“Jonas, I’m five seconds away from hanging you by your cummerbund. I’ll get the electric chair, of course, but it’s a small price to pay.”
“Wait!” Jonas cocked his head as the tempo of the music changed. “That’s your cue. Go, go!”
“Why are you even back here?” she demanded. “The bridesmaids are supposed to be back here.” The other two had already gone, and hallelujah.
“To make sure you don’t head for the hills.” He gave her a rude shove in the middle of her back. “Now get going! I’ll duck around the side and pop out in front.”
“Great. It’s not a wedding, it’s a fucked-up magic show.”
“Sparkle, Fred, sparkle!” Then, before she could pummel him, he had darted away.
She stomped down the aisle, recognizing several guests: Artur, Tennian, Mekkam. Her mother and Sam. Colleagues from the New England Aquarium, including (
oh, God)
Madison.
The captain, in full dress uniform, sitting beside Thomas. They both smiled at her as she passed them and Fred marveled at the change in her fiancé’s father. The man had seriously mellowed after his wife’s death. He’d certainly been nice enough to
her
, even going so far as to give Thomas his late mother’s wedding and engagement rings to present to Fred. Fred had been proud to accept the engagement ring and, in another month, would be wearing the wedding ring as well.
Even though she’d been wearing it for over a month, she couldn’t help being distracted by it now and again. It was a nice piece of jewelry, a platinum band with a half-carat diamond setting, but that’s not why she caught herself staring at it during inopportune moments.
She loved what it represented, that was all. Almost as much as she loved the man who had given it to her.
She tipped him a wink, and prayed Jonas wouldn’t notice she had refused to wear the silver heels he’d picked out for her.
Barefoot, she padded up the aisle to take her place beside Dr. Barb, who was looking dazzling in a cream-colored dress Jonas had selected. Dr. Barb looked exhilarated and intimidated and thrilled, all at once.
As the music reached its crescendo, she leaned in and whispered to the bride, “By the way, I’m withdrawing my resignation.”
“What resignation?” the bride whispered back. “And you’d better not be late next Monday.”
Real romantic, that’s what it was.
Fred buried her face in her bouquet and snorted laughter into the white roses.