I might’ve been hasty in agreeing to go with four armed men to some undisclosed location without any concrete information, but from where I stood, we didn’t have much choice. They had guns. We had our wit and charm. That and ten bucks might get us a cup of coffee, but it wouldn’t overtake four combat-ready soldiers.
They put us in a large van—not the kind you saw in serial killer or heist movies, where the back was basically a psychopath’s playground—thank heavens. This was a luxury van like you would see on a vacation tour. We had air conditioning, cushy seats, and large windows from which we could enjoy the view. All we needed were umbrella drinks and someone telling dad jokes to complete the vacation scenario.
Carver was allowed to put a shirt on before they stuck us in the middle seat. Ryker had given him one of hers, a Ramone’s concert jersey circa 1972. Unfortunately, his boots had been left in the cave, and our “escorts” refused to let him go back for them. Two of the men settled into the row behind us, then a hulking bald mercenary got into the driver's seat, and the blond who’d done all the talking took the passenger side. Probably so he could have an unobstructed path to shoot us in the face if we tried anything funny. He didn’t have to worry. We were not funny people—at least, I wasn’t.
“What’s your name?” I asked Blondie.
“Cooper,” he said, keeping a wary eye on us. The man had an accent. It was slight enough that I hadn’t noticed when he’d had a gun to Ryker’s head. He pronounced Cooper like koo-pair and ended by barely skimming the r.
“Cooper, huh?” I scootched forward in my seat and angled my knees at him. “That’s a strong name. Scottish, right?”
“Aye,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “What’s your name?”
“Mar—” Ryker nudged my knee, so I improvised. “Martina,” I covered. “Martina King.”
Martina made me think of Martina Navratilova, who made me think of Billie Jean King. The two rivals, who played fourteen championship matches against each other, were incredibly powerful athletes who equally advanced the notion of gender equality in sports. It seemed fitting to combine their names for my assumed moniker.
Cooper eyed me like he didn’t believe me for one second. “Which one of you is Ryker?”
I bit my upper lip to keep from making a peep. Why had I thought the hunter was looking for me? And why was he or she or they looking for Ryker? And what did Zev have to do with all of this?
Before she could answer, Carver said, “That’s me.”
I was glad my lip was still between my teeth. What had possessed Carver to volunteer as tribute? The real Ryker couldn’t either. “I’m Ryker,” she said.
And because I watch too much television, I chirped in, “No, I’m Ryker.”
“I thought you were Martina King.”
“Yeah. Ryker Martina King,” I said.
Cooper glared at the three of us for a moment, then began to laugh. “I could care less which one of you it is.” He lowered his brow, and his glare became ten times more intimidating. “I get paid as long as Ryker is in the mix. The hunter can sort you out.”
“Can you tell us about this hunter person?” I asked.
“I could.” He grinned, and for the first time, I noticed that his teeth looked like they’d been filed to points. Like a shark’s. “But I won’t. Not unless you have money, you’re willing to spend. I don’t do anything for free.”
“And what won’t you do for money?”
“That’s right.” His grin grew more feral. “What won’t I do for money.” The other mercenaries laughed.
Oish. I leaned back in my seat, wishing I hadn’t asked. I made eye contact with Ryker, and she mouthed, “Not human.”
Caught off guard, I flinched. I should’ve known they weren’t human, considering the person who hired them ran a procurement business in the supernatural underbelly, but it still surprised me. “What are they?” I mouthed back.
“We are na fir ghorma.” Cooper's response came with a smirk that betrayed his amusement.
“A what?” I asked, more confused than ever.
“A blue man,” Carver remarked, shaking his head. “Otherwise known as a storm kelpie.”
Cooper bared his teeth. “It’s about time you recognized me, sylph. Your kind has always been too soft.”
“And from what I know, your kind has always been a bunch of wave-stirring assholes,” Carver shot back.
Oh no, I thought. Where was the practical, let’s not get ourselves killed Carver of old? “Uhm, what he meant to say is...”
Carver’s expression flattened. “I said what I said.”
“It’s a water-pissing contest,” Ryker said under her breath. “Better to stay out of it.”
“You want to know how we found you and your buddies?” Cooper leaned toward Carver. “I could smell you splashing around in the ocean from a mile away. What was that scent, lads?” He chuckled sinisterly and narrowed his gaze. “Chicken.”
My friend blanched.
“And what’s the best chicken?” I chimed in, because I’m an idiot who can’t stay out of it when a friend is getting bullied and sometimes doesn’t have a brain-to-mouth filter. “It's chicken of the sea.” I crossed my arms over my chest with a harumph.
“Agreed.” Cooper turned his gaze on me and gnashed his gnarly teeth. “Mmmm, sea chicken is tasty.”
My nose curled in revulsion. “Ew.”
“Don’t help,” Ryker hissed. She stared at Cooper and his pals like they had grown four heads, and each one of them was spitting razor blades. “Let’s try and survive the trip.”
The fear I saw in her eyes chapped my ass. “Look,” I said to Cooper. “Your job is to pick us up and drop us off. I think we can cut the chit-chat in the interim. As long as you have no idea which one of us is Ryker, then you can’t kill us.”
“Hunter didn’t say Ryker had to be in one piece,” he growled.
“I doubt that very much.” My indignation was at an all-time high. What the hell was I doing? Not stopping, that’s what. “I can’t imagine the hunter wants Ryker...” I gestured between the three of us, “...injured. No one wants to pay for damaged goods, dick head. It’s good business one-oh-one.”
I heard an audible gasp at my audacity from one of the men in the back.
The tiny part of my brain that recognized when I was pushing the envelope echoed the sentiment, but there was no stopping me now. I was on a roll. “So, why don’t you shove your idol threats, shut your yap-trap, and do your freaking job?”
You could hear a pin drop. The bald driver, his fingers white-knuckled on the wheel made a sharp turn and headed the van toward the ocean. My eyes widened as he hit the gas and we picked up speed.
“Wait? Is he driving us into the Pacific?”
Carver reached across Ryker and me as if to brace us for the impact. “You’ve got me,” he said. “I’ve got you. Always.”
The storm kelpies started laughing as the van filled with water. I was near the sliding door, but no matter how hard I yanked on it, it wouldn’t budge. I shot a glance at Ryker and Carver. Carver looked as panicked as I did, but Ryker remained calmer than what was called for in this situation.
Quickly, I discovered why the storm kelpies were called blue men. When they submerged in the ocean, they all turned blue. Even their hair was blue, and they were covered in patterns that looked as if they’d been carved into their bodies. This was their real forms. Their mercenary appearance had been smoke and mirrors.
I relaxed when the water stopped at chest level and never rose any higher. We weren’t sinking. I wasn’t going to die. Those five words reduced my panic level from a ten to a five. I could face anything if I knew it wasn’t going to kill me.
“Saltwater can hide and reveal,” Ryker said. “Don’t worry. We’re safe. Ish,” she added. “As safe as we can be with the bozos. They are taking us to Natheria.” She pointed out to sea. I saw nothing but an enormous sandbar with little to no visible greenery. “It looks like a desert in the middle of the ocean.”
“The fae are spectacular when it comes to illusion magic,” she said. “But I’ve been here before. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen.”
As we finished the ride to the island, I thought about how much I hated being in wet clothes. “I’m pretty sure this is a recipe for a rampant yeast infection,” I uttered.
Ryker choked a laugh. “You really do just say whatever pops into your head.”
I shrugged. “Not all the time, but it’s harder to filter when I'm agitated.”
“We’re nearly there.” She squeezed my hand. “This is going to be wild.”
Wild was the understatement of the year.
One moment, we were up to our armpit in briny saltwater, the van eerily navigating the waves like a ghost ship, as the Isla de Altamura stretched out in front of us. Then, as if I’d dropped ten hits of acid and had shroom sauce for dessert, the van lurched forward, and we were draining sea water as the vehicle rolled into what could only be categorized as a dazzling display of excessive excess. My senses were overwhelmed as Big, Blue, and Bald parked on a street sandwiched between colorfully lit high-rise buildings crammed together so tightly that I couldn’t see an alley between them. Each skyscraper seemed to vie for attention, adorned with a dizzying array of neon lights that danced and flickered in the night.
Wait. It was late morning when we passed through. “Did we skip some hours? Why is it nighttime already?”
“It’s always night in Natheria,” the bald driver said.
“Awesome.” I blinked at the sea of technicolor chaos. Natheria looked like Vegas of the future on steroids had given birth to a baby that also took steroids.
Neon signs flashed and blinked, advertising everything from unusual cuisine to exotic drugs, and forbidden pleasures.
Cooper opened the door and the rest of the water dumped out of the van and onto the ground. “Get out,” he ordered.
It was like stepping into another world. The air crackled with energy and magic coursing through the streets like an electric current. But the glitz and glam couldn’t cover the stench of decay in the air.
“There’s nothing like Natheria,” Ryker murmured, her voice barely audible over the city's din. And she was right—at least it was like nothing that I’d ever seen. Natheria was a place of contradictions, where beauty and depravity walked hand in hand.
“This place is impossible.” Something large roared above me, and I jerked to duck away with the cat-like reflexes of someone who hits her head on stuff a lot. “Was that a flying motorcycle?”
“Probably,” Ryker said. “Anything you can imagine, Natheria has it.”
If that were the case, I’d imagine Zev safe and away from this awful place. Which meant getting this shit show on the road. I glowered at Cooper, who was now over six feet tall. WTF? “Well, big guy,” I said. “Take us to your leader.”