Maximum Witch: That Old Black Magic, Book 3 (21 page)

The attendant nodded. “I’ll tell everyone the computers are down and we can’t print tickets yet.”

The woman left them, and Willa glanced around the lobby, taking in the colorful murals boasting of the different exhibits. Before she could linger too long, Max laced his fingers with hers and guided them toward the entrance marked Ocean Voyager. They stepped inside the dark, cool tunnel, and she breathed in the strong marine scent surrounding her. Traveling deeper into the exhibit, she noticed the viewing panels overhead and the graceful aquatic creatures swimming by. The strange depth perception within the glass tunnel gave the impression of being
inside
with the marine life. She shivered. When a massive shark piloted past them, she instinctively let out a yelp. She gave Max a sheepish look. “Okay, now I feel rude. He’s not your cousin or something, is he?”

His mouth twitched as if he were trying to hold in a laugh. “No.”

They reached the giant observation window. Despite her unease with her watery surroundings, she couldn’t help gasping in wonder at the majestic giant manta rays gliding through the water like lithe dancers.

“There’s Frank, the little bastard.”

She glanced over her shoulder, fully expecting to see the man in question walking down the tunnel. The only one behind her was Boone. Shaking his head, he pointed toward the glass viewing pane. Realization dawned. Frank wasn’t outside with them.

He was
in
the tank.

Shifting her focus, she scanned the multitude of residents swimming in the massive exhibit, attempting to discern which one of them could possibly be Frank. Just as she was about to give up and ask Max or Boone to point out their quarry to her, a family of rays floated by, and she noticed a lone fish with a brown-spotted body and huge pouting lips hovering in the distance. Unlike the other denizens in the tank that were blissfully ignoring them, this rather homely looking creature was staring right at them.

And boy, did it look
pissed
.

“Hate to tell you this, bud, but good ole Frank seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the coral bed this morning. Not sure he’s gonna be in a cooperative mood.”

“We’ll see about that.” Max strode to a nearby metal door that was marked
Employees Only
. Ignoring the sign, he tried the doorknob. Judging from his scowl, it was locked. After shooting a quick look down the tunnel, he grabbed the hem of his crew neck and in one smooth motion, whipped his shirt over his head. Before the garment even hit the floor, he’d unbuckled his pants.

She gaped at him. “Uh, you’re stripping. Here. In the tunnel.” For some reason, it felt very important to point out the specifics.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got at least fifteen minutes before anyone comes through the front doors.”

Somehow that didn’t reassure her as much as Max no doubt intended it to. A moment later he was completely naked and staring at the crack underneath the service door. She wanted to ask him what he was doing. But then he started…changing, his body becoming the consistency of water. She took a stumbling step back, banging into Boone. “What. The.
Hell
?”

The next second Max was funneling through the crack at the base of the door. While her head spun, trying to process what she’d just witnessed, Boone dragged her back to the viewing window and pointed skyward. She glanced toward the stairway leading into the tank and spied Max, back in his human form, descending the diver’s ladder. She half-expected him to morph into his shark form, and was even a tiny bit nervous about seeing that side of him. But he held his human form as he dove into the water. She peered up at Boone. Apparently reading her silent question, he shrugged. “Max believes in a fair fight. A grouper doesn’t stand a chance against a tiger shark.”

“They’re going to fight?”

Boone grunted. “I’d lay odds on it.”

Sure enough, the angry fish across the way shifted into a portly balding man with enough back hair to keep an electrolysis technician rolling in the dough. He yelled something. She couldn’t hear the words through the glass but was able to see the bubbles rising from his mouth. Max swam toward the man, and when he was an arm’s length away, Frank took a swing at him. Despite the density of the water, his hit came with enough impact to knock Max to the side.

She gave an indignant gasp. “That little twerp. Max didn’t have time to block the blow.”

“Max always gives Frank the first punch. Makes him feel less guilty.”

“About what?”

Max picked up Frank and tossed him against the opposite wall.

“Creaming his ass.”

For the next ten minutes Max and Frank alternated between shouting and ramming each other against various parts of the tank. Well, pretty much Max did the ramming. Finally Frank held his hands up in defeat and said something to Max, a furious stream of bubbles erupting past his fast-moving lips. A dazed expression crossed Max’s face, but ultimately he must have been satisfied with whatever Frank told him because he began swimming back toward the ladder. Frank resumed his grouper form and went to sulk in the corner.

Boone glanced at his watch. “He’s got less than a minute. Better hustle his ass.”

Max disappeared from sight. Agonizingly slow seconds ticked by before his watery form seeped under the door. His body taking shape, he quickly jumped into his shoes and pants. He yanked his shirt in place just as voices preceded an approaching tour group in the tunnel. Slicking a hand over his wet hair, his mouth adopted a wry twist. “Hopefully no one notices I’m soaked.”

Boone chuckled. “If they ask, just say you took a dip with the sharks.”

“Very funny.”

They started walking at a fast pace, keeping ahead of the crowd behind them. Willa peeked at Max, unable to hold her curiosity. “Okay, you’re going to have to tell me how the hell you did that.”

“It’s built into my DNA.” He hitched his broad shoulder as if insinuating that shifting into water was no more mysterious or amazing than brushing one’s teeth.

“So what did Frank say?” Boone asked. “Does he know anything about the mind sweeper?”

“Yeah. And it’s not good.”

She peered up at Max. “Why? Is he dead or something.”

“No. Worse.” Max’s jaw clenched. “He’s a leviathan.”

Chapter Twenty

For the second time in less than thirty-six hours, Harrison glared at the entrance of The Wet Spot. There couldn’t possibly be a leviathan on the planet with worst luck than him. It seriously made him consider saying fuck it all and finding some nice, quiet cavern at the bottom of an ocean somewhere.

No, damn it. He was destined for better than that. And he sure as hell hadn’t gone to all this trouble, put up with the endless bullshit from previous employers and his current pain-in-the-ass hostess, only to chuck it all.

With that determination firing his blood, he loped across the street and barged into the strip club. Kragos was once again pouring shots behind the bar. Harrison had worked out his plan a million times in his head. Obviously it would require some duplicity—and the knockout drug in his waistcoat pocket—to convince Kragos to go along with everything.

Approaching Kragos, Harrison checked his appearance in the smoke-damaged mirror behind the bar. He’d gone to great lengths in creating an illusion of having just survived a bloody attack. The sleeves of his waistcoat looked like they’d lost the battle with a paper shredder, and his face bore deep gouges. Perhaps from a woman’s fingernails. In reality, they’d been his own. No matter. They would clear up as soon as he ditched this ridiculous uniform, since it was all merely part of the mirage he’d spun.

Kragos finally looked up from his bartending, a scowl overtaking his craggy face. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

The stupid bastard thought he was here to inquire about mentorship? Did he not see Harrison’s false wounds? Or maybe the buggerhead didn’t give a donkey’s dick. “Come, you must help me stop the crazy bitch. She plans to murder us all.”

Kragos passed one of the shot glasses to his mesmerized patron. “When did your mother get back in town?” The old geezer leviathan snickered at his own joke.

So now the jackwad was insulting Harrison’s mother. One more reason to kill Kragos once his usefulness was finished. “Not her. Reva Bellemuir.”

Kragos’s gaze whipped in Harrison’s direction. “What is this nonsense you speak?”

Oh,
now
he had the soul collector’s attention. “She’s escaped her prison and is building her army even as we speak. I was a fool to listen to her promises of riches in return for offering my services. I barely escaped her with my life intact.”

At long last, the elder leviathan seemed to notice Harrison’s disheveled appearance. “You know where she is?”

“Yes.”

“Take me to her.”

With pleasure
. Harrison stepped aside as Kragos stormed out from behind the bar. He followed the old soul collector into the rear hallway of the strip club. Digging into his pocket, he snatched the cloth saturated with the knockout drug.

Kragos gave him an impatient glance. “You are the slowest creature ever. Armageddon will be here and gone before we reach my damn car.”

“No need to drive. I can teleport us.”

“
You
?” A snort blew from Kragos. “Not likely—” He broke off with a smothered grunt as Harrison slammed the cloth over his mouth.

Harrison struggled under the dead weight of Kragos’s unconscious body, but his satisfied smile still slid in place. “Yes, you see, I’ve been practicing, you asshole.”

And with that, they both blinked out of sight.

Willa remained quiet on the ride back to the ducal mansion. Not that Max could blame her. He’d been pretty damn silent during the trip himself. It was difficult to dredge up much motivation to talk when all of their plans consistently insisted on hitting roadblocks.

They approached the gate fronting Justin’s property, and Max slowed the vehicle, waiting for the guard to buzz them through. Willa shifted restlessly on the backseat. “D-do you think we should try to find this Kragos?”

“Baby, I wouldn’t even know how to start. The leviathan community isn’t exactly accessible to those outside of it. And Frank didn’t have anything more than the creature’s name. I get the feeling that Kragos’s skill is usually enlisted for unsavory purposes, hence the reason he and his clients avoid being on anyone’s radar.” He met Willa’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t tell if her expression was one of disappointment or relief. Possibly a combination of both.

The gate opened and he cruised past it. “I’m not giving up on this idea of getting your memories back. You’ve already proven that some of them are breaking through.” He mentally circled around to what she’d whispered last night before passing out.
Help me remember, Max. Help me get back
.

Help get her back to where? Where all of her memories began and died?

Atlantis. It had to be. But how did he go about getting her there when he couldn’t even convince her to step into the portal?

Frustrated, he parked in front of the mansion and handed the keys over to Boone. While Willa escaped into the coolness of the house, Max hung back, his thoughts heavy.

“Any ideas on the next step?”

He jumped at the sound of Boone’s voice. Hell, he’d been so wrapped up inside his own head he hadn’t realized Boone was still in the vehicle. He glanced at his friend. “Yeah, but it’s not going to be easy.” He read the curiosity in Boone’s eyes. “I want to get her into the portal, but she’s deathly afraid of water.”

“Is that why she looked so spooked in the aquarium?” Boone juggled the keys between his hands. “Shit, that’s weird. Imagine a nymph being afraid of water.”

“It’s an implant.” He returned to staring out the windshield. Sunlight glinted off the mermaid in the fountain, making her scales sparkle. Absently, he watched the water trickling down the curves of the statue’s breasts.

Like a recording, Boone’s words replayed in Max’s mind.
Imagine a nymph being afraid of water
.

The tingles started along the nape of his neck. “
Yes
. That’s the key. Her nymph.” He turned toward Boone. “She can defeat her fear of water.”

“Uh, don’t you think her nymph would have done it by now?”

“That side of Willa has been repressed all this time.”

“Didn’t look that way last night.”

Recalling the event in question, Max stiffened behind his fly. “Yeah, I’ll grant you that. Sex definitely appears to coax her nymph out of hiding.”

“Then I’d say you know what you have to do.” Boone flashed a grin. “The things you gotta do in the name of duty, eh?”

“The only problem is it’s not exactly foolproof. There have only been two times that her nymph has made a complete appearance. I don’t know what to do to guarantee her showing up.”

Boone remained quiet for a moment before hooking his arm on the back of his seat. “Remember I dated that nymph from Virginia Beach a few years back?”

To be honest, he’d totally forgotten about it. There’d been too many lovers in and out of Boone’s life to be able to keep track of.

“Shelby liked when I…invited others into our bed.”

He stared at Boone. “You’ve had a fucking threesome?”

Boone chuckled. “More than once. Like I said, she really got into it.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, it was damn hot. Plus I like to watch.”

Max automatically veered to Boone’s revelation from earlier that morning. He swallowed. He had a good inkling where Boone was headed with this, but he wanted to make sure before the conversation went much further. “You’re suggesting a threesome with Willa.”

Boone inclined his head. “It might work. Would you be okay with it?”

He let the question sink into his consciousness. Would he be able to handle seeing another man kiss Willa? Possibly fuck her? Normally he would say no way in hell. But Boone wasn’t any other man. If there was anyone he trusted with Willa, it was his best friend. Plus he couldn’t deny how turned on he’d been, knowing Boone had watched them. Christ, if
that
did it for him, what would it be like actually having Boone in the middle of it all with them? The throbbing in his cock was all the answer he required. Still, he needed to know what he’d be getting himself into before agreeing to anything. “Would you want to touch Willa?”