Page 2 of Seas the Reckoning

The volmander and chef for Sea Wench is always ready to play a game of ‘fetch the fireball’ with my dog. And Pickles’s inability to get burnt comes in handy, since volmanders’ skin is covered in lines of lava when they’re shifted.

We make our way into the bar, and the cook in question comes out of the back, carrying a tray with a few pimento bologna sandwiches.

“Hey, Leena! Jackal! Let me set these down really quick.” Keegan makes his way to a table with a few locals, who smile and wave at the chef.

The Sea Wench was already known for tasty treats and an amazing ocean view, but Keegan has increased its popularity even more. Now that he’s had a couple of months to work without his safety being threatened, he’s come up with some great ideas for the menu. Each of the pimento sandwiches is accompanied by fries covered in what has become the house seasoning, which he came up with.

He strides back over to us, wiping his hands down on his apron.

“It’s been slow tonight, so I let Harper head home early. Brody and I can handle these tables ourselves.” The volmander nods his head toward Brody, who is manning the bar.

The red wolf shifter raises a hand in greeting before going back to mixing up a cocktail for a couple who are sitting and watching the ocean waves from the relative warmth of the open-air space.

While the trivia nights draw in a decent crowd, the numbers are nothing compared to the beach bar during high season, when the summer air draws people to the beach. A slimmer staff should be able to handle even the rowdiest crowd of trivia-loving locals.

“Mind if I take Pickles with me?” Keegan asks. “I’ve been working on these fire arcs that I think he’ll enjoy. They end up looking like mini-flame rainbows, and he could jump over or under them.”

“A specialized dog agility training.” Jackal laughs.

“Well, so long as they aren’t too high. I don’t want him to jump too much and hurt his back,” I allow, well aware how silly I sound since I’m worried about the height of my basset hound’s vertical leap and not the fact that he’ll be jumping over an open flame.

Keegan nods enthusiastically, not at all put off by my hesitation. Pickles is happily transferred into the volmander’s arms, and the two of them head to the kitchen.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite trivia players!” Starla sashays over to us, smirking and holding out her arms for a hug. My best friend’s blue and blonde streaked hair is loose and freshly cut, swinging just over the edge of her shoulders.

“I thought Exos was your favorite trivia player,” I tease as the witch pulls back from our hug, looking over her shoulder to the gargoyle. For the moment, he’s wearing his human appearance: a large, muscular man who towers over Starla.

“She’s considering kicking me off the team,” he says good-naturedly.

She blows out a breath.

“I am not! You said you thought you knew enough now to take all of us, and I merely mentioned that you had the option of being a one-person trivia team if you were that confident.”

The gargoyle throws back his head with a laugh.

“I believe your exact words were ‘you’re being cockier than a rooster in a hen house right now, and if you’re so sure you can put your mouth where your ego is,’ unless I’m mistaken.”

Luckily, they’re both smiling and giggling, so I can tell all the commentary is in good fun. Exos rubs a hand over his chin.

“I am considering it. It could be a good test of how much I’ve learned.”

The discussion over whether Exos should in fact play on his own and whether he might be able to beat us continues. We’re in the middle of placing bets over who will actually win when a familiar face sweeps into the bar.

Shanell.

The witchy police officer has been elevated to captain since our friend Harold was killed while trying to help us. Her features are drawn, her expression stern. But that’s her default look these days. She hides her burned features with her illusion magic, but she doesn’t bother faking a smile.

She’s even stopped talking about her countdown to retirement, and I’m suspecting she might actually stay on the force, if only to take out her anguish in a way that lets her dole out justice.

She looks as serious as ever as she makes her way across the bar.

“I have news,” she starts.

Starla steps in front of her, waving her arms before the older witch can finish.

“Oh no! Not here! Not today! There’d better not be any more kidnappings or cases being announced in my bar! I’m starting to think it’s bad luck.” My best friend’s business has been the site of more negative moments than she’d like this past year, and I can understand her desperation to prevent a repeat.

“All I was going to say is that I brought along a guest.”