Chapter 12

The hulking figure sampled the air, a nose as sensitive as a bloodhound’s telling him everything that had come through the parking lot for the last week. Landmen by the boatload. Dogs. Birds. Though, he had a harder time than normal, since a puddle that smelled like a distillery drowned out everything else. On top of it all, the whole area was suffused with a background odor the master told him was gasoline fumes. How the Landmen could ignore that obvious stench was beyond understanding.

However, it was not the figure’s duty to understand, but only to find the wayward whale. “She was here,” he rumbled. The scent was fresh enough, but it vanished partway through the lot.

A meaty fist lashed out, bending one of the lampposts at an acute angle and killing the light.

“Three curses on these cars! Every time I’m about to find her, she climbs into one and is gone!” Another sniff revealed that it was at least the same car as before. The aged metal of the machine had a distinctive odor. “Sorta different. Hard to pick out unless I’m right on top of it.”

Then something delicious tickled their nose. Was that… blood?

Too much time on this island must have blunted his senses. How could he have missed the most delightful scent of them all? Food, comfort, and entertainment all rolled up into one! Even through the woolen scarf about his neck, the odor was unmistakable.

Should he have gotten back to work? Perhaps, but he was hungry. He was always hungry, but the delicious smell of blood drove it home. He crawled on all fours, reveling in the wonderous odor.

Another scent crossed his sensitive snout, though, driving away the distraction.

Griffon? It was definitely the scent of a griffon, tinged with something electric he could not place. How? There are no griffons in this land. Are there? Admittedly, the hunter had only come over for brief visits, usually in his master’s laboratory. The master always said the giant stood out too much to send out except for emergencies, and the orca was the most important target.

But, the master will want to know about another beast of Avalas running around, won’t he? The master valued what he thought of as perfectly ordinary beasts for some reason. The hunter wished they had a way to contact the master directly. The locals spoke into strange boxes as if there was another person there. Did the master have one? That would be handy.

“Maybe if I ask him, he’ll give me one?”

The hulking figure straightened up, torn by indecision. To continue the hunt, or to ask for more instructions. I can’t decide. I’ll ask the master. It did not occur to him that he was making a choice. Introspection was not one of his strong suits.

*************

“There,” declared Ava as she finished Bayla’s stitches. “Good as new.”

Bayla gritted her sharpened teeth as she stood. I cannot agree with that assessment. The translucent covering on the wound was speckled with her blood, which did nothing for her confidence. She chose not to comment on how painful the Landman methods of medicine were. A simple healing spell would have resolved the issue in a minute. Instead, Ava had washed the wound out with a clear liquid that stung like a jellyfish, and then stabbed her with a needle and thread to sew it shut. What barbarians. Worse, while the strange white pebbles from the bottle had dulled her agony from the griffon venom, it was still there in the background, sapping her strength and balance.

“Thanks again, Ma. You’re a lifesave,” said Vince.

“Of course,” said the older woman. “Anything for you and your date.”

However, Bayla put on a brave face as Vince helped her up. She was even able to stay standing with only a little help from the Landman. She moved his hand around her waist to cover up her unsteadiness. Bayla had seen some of the Landmaidens do that with their companions, and this Avameyer woman seemed to think they were mates. Best to keep up appearances.

Vince twitched with surprise, and a new stab of pain went through her as his fingers brushed her bandage. The wound was sealed and sterilized, but no less inflamed. If Ava had been from a real civilization instead of this benighted backwater, Bayla could have simply removed the griffon’s venom from her blood and be done with it.

A shame she isn’t, so I cannot. “Yes, good as new,” agreed Bayla, lying through her pointed teeth. She couldn’t even will the Aqua Armor to cover up her new stitches, because that would startle Ava just as much.

“You’re a miracle worker, Ma,” said Vince.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had to stitch up somebody, though it’s usually you,” replied the older woman, her eyes tracing down to Bayla’s exposed stomach. “Oh, your dress! Let’s cover you up.” She disappeared into a closet by the front door, returning with a light rain jacket that came down to Bayla’s thighs.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“I owe you a debt,” said Bayla, looking up at Ava. To Bayla’s irritation, she was nearly her son’s height, making the orca feel like an otter among seals. The normally delicious thought turned her stomach, which she credited to the venom coursing through her veins. It’s time to go so I can remove this poison.

“Nonsense, it was no bother,” replied Ava. “Though, I need to reopen. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Nothing, ma’am.” Bayla pasted a smile on her face. “I can fend for myself from here.”

“We’ll see you later, Ma,” said Vince. “I’ll be around tomorrow for the afternoon shift.”

“Good; you know I need you on Sundays.” She pinched his cheek. “You need me too; your little computer business isn’t paying the bills.”

“Not yet,” said Vince. He stiffened slightly, stabbing Bayla as he brushed her bandage again. “It will, though.”

Ava gave her son a knowing smirk. “Will it? You’ve been at it a year already. You should just come back full time. It’ll be fun, you and me, just like the old days. You can even have your old room back.”

“You moved your sewing things in there,” he said.

“I can move them out again,” she countered.

“Let’s not do this in front of company,” said Vince, his tone even. Bayla could feel the tension in his grip.

They said their goodbyes. Bayla found herself leaning more and more on Vince as they made their way outside, her strength dwindling by the moment.

“I cannot stand it,” she grunted. “I need to fix this! Take me somewhere she cannot see.”

Vince nodded, guiding her past the shop’s front window. Once Bayla was sure she was out of sight of the older woman, she fully collapsed into Vince’s arms. The Landman could be quick on the uptake, and she had a moment’s vertigo as he picked her up again. He dashed around the corner near a large, green box whose stench assaulted her blowhole.

“A fine hiding spot,” she grumbled. “It’s filthy and rotten like a beached grey carcass.”

“But nobody’s going to bother us back here,” he said, setting her down on a chunk of pavement. He turned to leave. “I’ll go keep watch.”

“No,” she insisted, a vice-like hand grabbing his plaid shirtsleeve before interlacing her fingers with his. “Stay here.” Not that she needed him around, but his presence was… not unwelcome.

She needed the comfort. Removing the alcohol from her blood had been simple; it was a toxin, but not an especially strong one. The numbness and heat from the griffon’s poison was entirely different, and it had been allowed to work for nearly an hour. The poison had seeped deep into her tissues, and it was going to take an intense act of will to force it out.

“Water,” she said, and again, Vince pulled out his flask. A thin smile crossed her mouth. He could be so useful. “No, not to drink. Pour it on me.”

He obeyed the order, and she focused her mana to seize the fluid before a drop could be wasted. I will not let it be polluted by the filthy ground near this garbage hole. It settled on the tear in her Aqua Armor, forming a dome as she tightened her grip on Vince’s hand.

“Like a macabre snow globe,” commented Vince.

Bayla had no idea what he meant, but she was too occupied to ask. She shoved her free hand into the water bubble and began reciting the words. Strange. Normally I would utter them in my true voice, but it is coming out in human sounds. She did not notice she had done the same before; she had been three sheets to the wind at the time. A golden glow illuminated the back of the Knight ‘n Day as her detoxification spell went to work. Her mana reserves flagged; she was unused to casting so many spells in a day, on top of the strain from her transformation. Some magical prodigy I am.

“You alright, Bayla?” asked Vince, taking her hand in both of his. She cracked open an eye, and there was true concern in his eyes.

Her face flushed with embarrassment, a new wave of stubbornness spurring her on. Yes, I am some prodigy! It matters not how stormy things seem. If that cowardly freak of a landbeast thinks a little venom is going to bring me down, it has another thing coming! “Of course,” she replied. “This is me, after all. It is simply a rather complex spell.”

Her renewed vigor showed the truth of her words, and the golden lights intensified. The water took on a green tinge. The pain actually increased, and she wondered if the spell saw those pain-relieving pebbles from Vince’s bottle as a foreign substance to remove.

“Those pebbles,” she said, “are they a sort of poison?”

“Huh? Oh, the pills? No, they’re a drug.”

“Can they kill you?” she demanded.

Vince looked thoughtful. “I suppose it depends on the dose. You can hurt yourself if you have too many.”

“So they are a poison,” she scoffed. “Poison to fight poison; the price you pay for your primitive magic!”

He smirked down at her. “If you can trash talk us Landmen, you must be feeling better.”

She gave no response, going back to reciting the detoxifying spell over and over again. After what seemed like an eternity, the last of the tingling numbness fled Bayla’s limbs, and the watery cocoon around her wounded side was the same sickly shade as withered seaweed. She hurled the putrid mass into the square trash-box, and she swore she heard it hiss as it hit the side.

“It is finished,” she said, slumping against the cold pavement. She considering healing her stitched-up wound with another spell, but she was too exhausted to consider it.

Vince released her hand, looking visibly relieved. Who asked you to do that? Her newly freed hand was slick with perspiration. Was that how Landmen showed their nerves? Touching, if a little disgusting.

“You had me scared there,” he said. “Guess it wasn’t much of a tour of the land, was it?”

“Exactly why I need to get home,” she said. She tried to stand, but her legs felt like the rubbery tendrils of a jellyfish. “Take me to the water, like you promised before.”

“You’re in no shape for that,” declared Vince, scooping her up again.

“I transformed by accident once,” she countered, struggling weakly against him. “Going back to my true body should be simpler.”

“No way. You’re coming back to my place.”

Bayla silently fumed at how easily this Landman could haul her around. “Out of the question! There is too much danger for you. What if that witch came for you next?”

Vince’s soft eyes met hers. “I’d put up more of a fight than you right now.”

Bayla sighed. He’s right, the abyss take him. “Very well. If you will not listen to reason, I suppose it would be rude to turn down your hospitality. I can stay with you a while longer.” She was cross with him, but that would wait for morning. For the time being, she enjoyed the weightless feeling of being supported in his arms. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was back in her own form, buoyed by the waters of the kelp forest.

Exhaustion caught up with Bayla before Vince could even turn on the Meyer-mobile’s engine, and she fell into the full slumber of a Landmaiden.