Page 74 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
Rune just waggled his eyebrows. “She is a bit shy, folks. Always putting in the work but never looking to take the credit. How about we give her a little applause? See if that encourages her?”
Clapping ricocheted around the cavernous room—the pitch so shrill, it drove an ice pick in between my ears.
I cringed.
Onyx rolled her eyes.
Rune placed his whiskey on a table and tapped his hands against his thighs in a mock drumroll. “C’mon, Onyx.You can do it!”
Onyx blew out a frustrated breath, took a long pull from her wine glass, and said, “Me mam told me legends of this isle…”
Her voice was heavily,heavilyaccented with a brogue somewhere in the Scottish family. English that almost didn’t sound English. If I didn’treallyfocus on the words, and the shape of her mouth as she formed them, it was all incoherent jibber.
“Ye all know them now, eh? Legends of the curse that trapped humans in this town and turned them to beasts after they died,” she continued. “Me mam thought we had ancestors in the town. Although if our ancestors all turned to beasts, I didna know how she figures we were born human.”
Only a speckle of laughter followed that. Likely because most people were staring at Onyx with concentration, trying to make sense of her words.
“Ach, but I liked the stories well enuf. So I bartered for a trip here when I was in me twenties. Found the isle as Rune said.” She flashed her cold eyes to him. “Savage. And I says to Rune?—”
“That the legends can be real and accessible for everyone,” Rune finished. “And I gotta say, folks, I had my doubts. Until…” He gestured back at Onyx, returning the proverbial mic he’d snagged from her.
“Until he saw the Loch Ness Monster.” Onyx scowled through her finishing lines. “And I says to him that the reef will keep it to the isle, and runes will make the isle safe for people to visit.”
“I love that brand of magic.Runes.” Rune thumped his chest. “There’s a soft spot in my heart for them.”
Several people laughed.
Onyx just rolled her eyes and pivoted back to the window.
What an odd exchange that had been. Which was fitting, I supposed, for this odd island.
“Anyway”—Rune waved his hand over to the bagpipes, sending them quivering on a long, mournful note—“I’ll save the rest of my toasts for after dinner. Or…Wait! I have to do this first, folks, sorry.” He made a cutthroat gesture with his hand and the bagpipes deflated with a whinyeeeeeeee.“Because speaking of dinner, everything you’re eating tonight has been prepared by our very own Aranis Brightspark. Stand, please, Aranis. Take a bow.”
A sprightly Sorcerer stood from a center pub table and waved self-consciously.
“Aranis is launching MagicBite next month,” Rune said. “Aiming to make mealtimes magical, even for Standies. So if you’re enjoying the food, make sure to watch for the launch. He’s on most Standie social media platforms as well, if you’d like to give him a follow when you get home. Now, no more interruptions until everyone has a full belly.” Up went his hand again, sending the bagpipes wailing with another battle song.
“I wonder if—” I turned to Jackson, starting to ask if he thought Rune took song requests.
But Jackson was gone.
He must’ve jumped up as soon as the music started and was now standing in a line at the bar, both our empty glasses in hand.
I sighed and popped a half-cooled bite of mushroom ravioli into my mouth.
“Pippi. Pippi, I…”Alistair’s voice tickled my brain on the lonely wagon ride I’d taken back to my cottage. Lonely, only because the families with kids had left Brew & Bites earlier and most everyone else, including Jackson, were enjoying the after party, so I had the wagon all to myself.
I’d stayed as long as my pounding head would tolerate. And I’d tried not to be upset when Jackson had kissed my temple and told me to go on ahead without him after I’d mentioned going back to the cottage.
But I was a little upset. More than I had any right to be.
The two alicorns who pulled the wagon, a male and female pair named Blythe and Orielle, were friendly, maintaining soft, idle conversation as they carried me to my lodgings through the fog. On any other night, I would have engaged in small talk with them. But tonight, I was too tired, too raw, too…off kilter.
My emotions were jumbled into a brambly hairball. I couldn’t tell which ones were mine, and which ones belonged to others. Like Alistair.
“Pippi…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep calling you.”My heart wept at the lonesome tenor of his voice. And I almost went to him—almost bypassed my cottage and wandered down the cliff path. But as I stood at the door, deliberating, my skull gavean awful, grinding thump, reminding me that I was overduefor a snooze session. And that was sometimes the best cure for everything that ailed the soul—a good, hard, uninterrupted night of sleep. Something I hadn’t had since coming to the isle.
“I’m sorry, Alistair,” I whispered as I went inside, changed into my pajamas (a.k.a., an old pair of Jackson’s boxers and a holey T-shirt), kicked the blankets to the bottom of the bed, and stretched out over the pillows.
