Leashing the Tempest (Arcadia Bell #2.5)(18)

“Or I could just let her have you,” I said.

The captain’s mouth fell open. “You wouldn’t.”

He was right about that. I glanced at Jupe. That would be a fine lesson to teach the kid.

No, I wasn’t going to feed the captain to the demon, though it was awfully tempting. I mean, on one hand, he was an * and had put us all in danger by not being upfront about his boat being a magnet for pissed-off three-headed zombie mermaids he’d screwed over. Then again, Jupe was the one who turned the captain into a temporary coma patient—which was the reason his weather trick stopped working and lightning took out the ward . . . so it was pretty much the kid’s fault this all happened.

And if I’d learned one thing from my short time with Lon, it was that it’s never the kid’s fault. Sure, he’d get grounded later when—if—we made it home. But whatever brand of crazy trouble Jupe managed to kick up, Lon always took the blame. “My kid, my problem” he always said.

Even if I wasn’t the birth mother, I supposed Lon’s problem was my problem now, too.

But did the Rusalka deserve to be sent back to the Æthyr? After all, she was the wronged party in this whole creepy scenario.

“I may not continue to exist if you send me back,” she said, as if sensing my sympathy.

Super. Now I was supposed to worry about a dead demon not being able to live her carefree zombie life? “Look,” I said, feeling more like a divorce counselor than a mage. “Why do you even want this guy? Look at him. He’s fat and balding and old—”

“I’m only fifty,” he argued.

I shot him an annoyed look. Trying to help you, Mr. Hotlegs.

“The point is, he’s no prize. He’s probably going to drop dead of a drug-induced heart attack before the next decade’s over.”

“His body pleases me,” the demon said.

“I’m going to be sick,” Co b only Kar Yee mumbled.

“Now I understand why people need a safe word,” Jupe added. “Because if I had one, I’d sure as hell be saying it right now.”

Lon groaned. This was not something any of us wanted to picture.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, then tried to reason with the demon again. “All I’m saying is that he’s not your soul mate. You deserve better than this. You deserve a husband that cares about you. Someone who wants to, uh, visit you every fortnight or so.”

“You can do better,” Kar Yee said. “A lot better.”

I shrugged at the demon. “You don’t really want this deadbeat. Do you?”

Three heads turned toward the captain, all of them wearing angry frowns. After a long moment, she said, “I suppose not.”

The captain slumped against the wall, a look of absolute relief slackening his face.

“Release him from his pact and find someone new,” I encouraged the demon.

She paused for a moment, thinking. “On one condition. He must bring me new men every fortnight until I chose a new husband.”

The captain made a face.

“Sounds fair to me,” Kar Yee said.

“Only if you give me your word that you will not kill him, or the men he brings,” I said. Then added, “Or anyone else on this boat.”

“I give you my word and solemn oath,” she said.

I nodded, then spoke to Christie. “Go on. Promise her you’ll bring her potential husbands.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’ll think of a way. Start your own ‘hedonists cruise’—I don’t care.” The local Hellfire Club would be all over that shit; he could make a small fortune.

“All right, I promise,” the captain said unhappily.

I looked at Lon. “Can we trust her?”

“She’s not lying.”

“I do not break my promises,” Onna said, slanting accusing eyes toward Christie.

A loud noise made me jump. It took me a moment to realize that it was a horn blaring, and it was coming from outside the yacht. Jupe stood on the bunk and stuck his face in the porthole window. “Coast Guard! We’re saved!”

A collective sigh of relief circled the room. Holy Mother of God, was I happy.

“You’d better hurry,” Lon said.

Yeah. Probably not wise to have a demonic monster trapped inside the boat while we were being rescued.

Lon skirted the trap and stood guard in front of Kar Yee and Jupe, flare gun in hand, while I palmed his pocketknife . . . just in case. Then I did my best to look at all three pairs of Chre I pal Onna’s eyes and said, “I accept your oath and honor mine in return. You are free to go.”

I swiped one bare foot across a corner of the triangle, breaking the binding.

Onna shook herself like a wet dog and jumped out of the trap. Quick as a whip, she lunged at Christie and pinned the man to the wall. He shouted out in terror and turned his head to the side.

Onna wrapped webbed fingers around his chin and forced him to look up at her. “You broke all three of my hearts, Richard. If you fail to honor this new oath to me, this time I will tear your skin from your bones and bury you alive at the bottom of the sea.”

“Sounds reasonable,” he mumbled.

“Goodbye, Richard. I will see you in a fortnight.”