Chapter 18

Vince liked to think that he had held up pretty well as he had been presented with impossible situation after impossible situation: orcas turning into beautiful women in front of him, witches who could summon monsters deciding he was some supervillain. Hell, he was still processing the fact that magic existed at all. Still, Bayla had needed him, and that had kept him pressing onward.

However, the sight of an unclothed Bayla who had turned into an orca-patterned mermaid from the waist down was too much. Still sore from hauling her increased weight out of the surf and soaked in saltwater, he found himself unsure of where to look.

He settled on her eyes; that seemed safe. “Since when can you turn into a mermaid?”

Bayla had managed to raise herself up on her elbows, but she was as unsteady as a newborn colt. “I cannot! At least, I should not be able to.” She twisted about to get a better look at herself. “By the abyss, I look like one of those tasty porpoises from the book!”

“So if you didn’t mean to do change, how did you do it?”

“Well… I was falling a-trance when I changed into a Landmaiden, but I remember a warm tingling. It was similar when I went into the surf, but then it simply… stopped.”

“Do you, ah, still have your Aqua Armor? You’re a little exposed.” His eyes could not completely avoid little glances that did nothing for his focus. Only a covering of wet sand preserved Bayla’s modesty.

“Yes, you are right; that witch will show up any moment. I should be protected.” She concentrated, the slick moisture in her skin turning into a near-exact copy of his plaid shirt, only again in whites and blacks. She glared angrily at her posterior as the tail moved up and down. “I may be able to swim now, if I could get back in the sea.”

“Nothing doing,” he replied. “You almost drowned a minute ago! We need to figure out how to change you back.”

Bayla shot a withering glare at him. “You mean to make me a Landmaiden again? That is what you wanted, is it not?”

“It’ll be easier to get away with legs than without.” He came alongside the mer-orca, giving her flank a tentative shove. “You’re too heavy for me to haul back, if we even had a way to hide you.”

“Pardon me!” Her pale face was a bright red as she whirled about at him. The angry outburst seemed to fix her coordination, as she bent her lower half out of reach. Vince did not pretend to understand how the unnatural anatomy worked, but there did seem to be something analogous to hips and knees that let her sit up properly. “Watch where you put your fins!”

Vince’s eyes goggled. “Sorry, I guess it didn’t seem like it was really you.”

“It’s more real than I was before!” She shook her head. “There is no time for that. We are being hunted!”

“Yes, you are.” The gravelly voice came from behind, and Vince reflexively put himself between it and Bayla.

The broad-shouldered giant strode through the sand beneath the wharf without hurry. His face was covered by a blue scarf and slouch-hat, while a long, silver jacket obscured the rest of him. Vince felt overheated just watching him move. He’s dressed like it’s December! Who is this nutjob?

“H-hey, glad you showed up,” said Vince, shifting to block more of Bayla’s top from sight. “This Dall’s porpoise just breached here! I’m trying to keep her wet, but my phone’s ruined.” That was a guess, but he had not splurged on a waterproof model. He probably was down a phone. “Can you call the coast guard or something?”

Bayla made a higher-pitched whale noise that Vince did not recognize. He guessed she knew what a porpoise’s call would sound like.

“She is no porpoise,” the stranger rumbled in reply. “That is Princess Wakerider.” He raised his head, exposing a dead, beady eye. “You look different now, but I would recognize your scent anywhere.”

“Princess Wakerider?” asked Vince.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“That is not important,” said Bayla, crawling just so she could view their opponent. “If you have hunted me for weeks, you have done a poor job of it! This is the first we have met!”

“You are incorrect,” he stated. “I looked different then, though.” He set about unbuttoning his coat. “You are a Landman; how can you stand these skins?”

Vince pulled out his hunting knife, knowing there was a fight to come. “I don’t wear winter clothes in the…” Vince trailed off as the stranger doffed his hat and scarf. He only just kept hold of his knife. “Summer.”

If Bayla was a mermaid, their assailant was the reverse. His arms and legs had a very human shape, but he bore the rough skin, triangular fin, and pointed snout of a shark. His rippling muscles made him look even larger than he had with the coat on. His protruding fin would have caught on the door to Vince’s condo, and his head would not have cleared it by much.

Vince gulped at the sight, his knees knocking. And teeth. Rows and rows of teeth the size of my thumb. The man-shark stood there a moment, a grim smirk crossing his face. That bastard’s enjoying himself! Enjoying my terror! That thought steeled Vince’s resolve and he shifted his stance, keeping the Bowie knife at the ready.

Bayla was not so circumspect. Even with her lower half heavy and useless on the land, she flopped around Vince’s side like a seal. “Imposter! You twice-damned fake, what are you really? No idiotic shark can match our magic!”

The shark’s good humor vanished. “I am Marazza,” he spat. “You arrogant whale! If the master did not want you alive, I’d rip your throat out.”

“Bayla, stop drawing attention to yourself!” hissed Vince.

“He is a twisted parody of our land forms!” she said. “Some dark wizard or foolish witch tried to elevate this mindless beast to match us. It is an insult.”

“Boy,” said Marazza, his dead eyes settling on Vince. “She cares for you, yes?”

“Yes?” Vince’s answered, his tone guarded.

A meaty finger leveled itself at Vince. “The master did not mention sparing you. I think I shall rip out your throat instead. Make her watch.”

“No!”

Bayla’s protest went unheeded as Marazza stepped forward. He did not run or charge; there was no need. Vince was going nowhere, even if his legs finally relaxed enough that he could move. His still-soaked clothes and the uneven sand beneath the wharf did not make it easy, though, and Vince slipped to his knees.

Even as Vince stumbled, Marazza kept striding towards him. “Hm. You cannot stand right. You will not be fun prey. However, prey is prey.”

“Vincemeyer, you have to leave! Shark, I will surrender, please, do not hurt him!”

They both ignored Bayla’s pleading. The gravity of battle drew them into a collision course, even if no blows had been struck yet.

To Marazza’s surprise, Vince struck first. A handful of sand went right into the sharkman’s eyes, sending him staggering back.

Good, he underestimated me. Didn’t realize the trick. He lunged forward, the knife going right for Marazza’s chest. An instant before he plunged the blade into the sharkman’s torso, though, a bluish blur filled his vision.

Vince had never been struck so hard before. He had never been hit by a car, but he imagined it could not match what had just happened to him. He cartwheeled twice in the air before he landed, the loose sand giving him some cushion.

“I do not need eyes,” rumbled Marazza. “I can see every living thing around me clear as day, even in the depths.”

Vince tried to stand again, but a sharp pain in his hip stopped him. So much for Bayla fixing my hip before. Something had popped in his leg, and it burned as he tried to steady himself. His right eye would not open, but his left showed him Marazza lazily advancing on him.

“Vince!”

Marazza let out a contented sigh as he finished brushing the sand out of his eyes. “You are not fun prey, but all prey is good prey. You did not last as long as I hoped, though.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Vince. One punch. One freaking punch, and I’m down like a chump.

Bayla’s voice went shrill, with a backing of panicked squeals. “Face me instead! You coward! You fake! You overgrown herring, face someone who can fight back!”

So much for the vote of confidence. Bayla’s words hurt almost as much as Marazza’s punch. Almost.

“Get in the damn water, Bayla!” shouted Vince. “Use your tail and get away!”

Marazza paused, looking from Vince to Bayla and back again. “Is she your master?”

“He is a good servant, but no,” said Bayla.

Is that how she sees me? The shark called her princess before… “Servant? You got your answer there, dick.”

“Then why do you fight so fiercely for her?” The sharkman’s voice was almost wistful. He shook his head as well as his stunted neck would allow. “It matters not. Swim where you like; I will follow. You will make better prey than this Landman.”

If Vince had watched Shark Week with Luis and Bayla, he would have learned about the shark’s electroreception sense. Marazza had not been boasting; he could perceive the very twitching muslces of everything moving about him. However, the sense was not flawless, and it certainly did not work as well out of the water.

Which was why by the time he was aware of the blade-cat bounding towards him from behind, it was too late. The shark had even missed the localized electromagnetic pulse from his summoning. The spotted, shaggy beast tackled Marazza to the ground, and the two rolled end over end.

“Nobody will be your prey today, you hideous beast!” Nanora floated in on her staff, once again dressed in her Ivory Witch uniform and golden mask. She landed, pointing dramatically at Marazza, even if he was too busy to hear. “I am the ally of Justice, Nanora ag Sintala, the Ivory Witch! Consider the folly of your wicked ways as Yarlan’s sabers find your throat!”

Vince actually smiled, though a twinge of pain made him regret it. Never thought I’d be glad to see this nutjob again.