Five Dead Herrings by E.J. Russell

“You could have just explained your problem,” I said as I hustled Brodie into the second floor conference room. “You didn’t have to contaminate Zeke’s desk.”

His mouth quirked. “It was wrapped up tight.”

“Not tight enough to mask the smell. Faugh! I picked it up as soon as I walked into the lobby.” Although now that he’d offloaded it onto poor Zeke, Brodie smelled more like the ocean and less like a seafood market at the end of a really hot day.

“You asked why I was here.” He strode over and parked an enormous leather pack on the oval oak table. Thankfully, he’d left the cooler in the other room. “Can’t help it if you don’t like the answer.”

I propped my hands on my hips. “You can answer questions without being a total jerk. People do it every day.”

He lifted an eyebrow, and I noticed it was bisected by a thin white scar. “Is this how you treat all your clients?”

I winced and scaled back my glare. He had a point, and I had little room for error when it came to client relations, thanks to my probationary status. “Is this how you treat someone who’s trying to help you?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and his massive chest rose and fell. “Sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve encountered one that it seems I’ve forgotten how to behave.”

“Encountered one of what?”

His wry smile made me blink because it transformed him from a grumpy brick wall into an actual person. “Anyone who’s trying to help me.”

Okay, if there’s one thing that can derail my annoyance, it’s finding out somebody’s in trouble. I wasn’t sure how dead fish translated into trouble—unless it was one of those Godfather references which I had never been able to follow—but supes were notoriously self-sufficient and nobody came to Quest unless they had a problem they couldn’t solve on their own.

I gestured to one end of the table. “Why don’t you have a seat? Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“Water would be grand.” He lowered himself into the specially spelled chair that adjusted to accommodate any client’s size.

I pulled a bottle of water out of the room’s mini-fridge, and he at least had the grace to nod his thanks when I passed it to him. His salty-ocean-breeze scent tickled my nose again. Since supes tended to wear their nature in their smell as well as in their behavior and appearance, I assumed he was some kind of saltwater-based being. If I had Jordan’s nose, I’d probably be able to tell which one, but I didn’t, nor was I familiar with all supe flavors. Brodie might be a species I hadn’t encountered yet, and a thrill chased across my skin at the notion.

I snagged a legal pad and a pen from the credenza. “What can you tell me about—”

“You’re human.” His tone was matter of fact rather than accusatory or outraged, a nice change from so many of our clients.

I eyed him warily. “Yes.”

“So what can I tell you?”

I sighed and pulled my credentials out of my pocket. I slid the laminated card across the table. “Everything.”

He studied the card, with its official supe council seal, his eyebrows rising toward his widow’s peak. “Impressive.” He tossed the card back to me. “That might get you through a few doors, but I’ll wager it doesn’t make you any more welcome once you’re inside.”

“I manage,” I said stiffly as I tucked the card back in my pocket.

He snorted. “Right. Because the average supe is so welcoming to your lot.”

“I suppose you are?”

He grinned, his teeth white against his tanned skin. “My kind are very welcoming to humans.”

“Your kind?” I knew all about the fae’s noted penchant for kidnapping humans for their own pleasure, keeping them in Faerie until they tired of them, and then booting them out again. Was Brodie fae? There were a whole raft of fae species, some of them water-based, that I hadn’t met. But the King and Queen of Faerie had instituted a zero tolerance no-kidnapping policy, and they were very strict about enforcement.

“He’s a bloody selkie.” Mal strode in, a scowl on his model-perfect face.

“A selkie?” I sat up straighter because hey, first contact! “Are selkies fae? What’s their natural habitat? What do—”

“Later, Hugh.” Mal’s smile was fond. As a high fae, he was breathtakingly beautiful with his raven black hair and cobalt eyes. As was Niall, for that matter, but neither one of them had ever touched me the way Ted had and still did, hopeless as my feelings were. “Let’s find out what the bastard wants first.”

Brodie smirked at Mal. “Nice to see you, too, Kendrick. Shagged anybody’s fiancé lately?”

I goggled at Mal, who simply strolled to the other end of the table and dropped into a chair, lounging at ease as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I guess having regular sex can really relax you.

I wouldn’t know.

“First, if somebody is engaged, not even I can tell unless he says so. Second, that was years ago. Third”—he waggled his left hand where his platinum wedding band glinted—”I’m a married man, and unlike some, I don’t cheat.”

Brodie scowled at him. “I never cheated.”

“No? Well, maybe not in the bedroom, but pretending you’re something you’re not counts in my book.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“No,” Mal drawled, “just left out a few pertinent facts.”

Brodie slapped the table. “I didn’t come here to discuss ancient history.”

Mal’s eyes narrowed, and he morphed from indolent to intent in a heartbeat. “Then why did you come here?”

“I’d rather speak with O’Tierney.”

“Too bad. He’s busy. And in any case, we’re partners, so I’d find out about it eventually, anyway.”

He jerked his chin at me. “And yon human?”

“Hugh’s a trusted member of our staff.” I warmed a little at Mal’s praise. “And since Niall’s busy and I can’t stand the sight of you, you’ll probably be stuck with him, anyway.” Okay, warmth gone. “If we decide to take your case.”

Brodie glowered at Mal—and if everything I’d seen of him so far hadn’t convinced me he wasn’t like Ted in anything other than size, that look would have done it. Ted would never try to incinerate somebody with his eyes.

Then his gaze dropped to his hands where they were fisted on the table top. “I’m being harassed,” he grumbled.

“Harassed.” Mal’s tone was skeptical. “You mean the way you harassed my office manager by slapping a dead herring on his desk?”

“He asked what the problem was, and the herring is the problem. That’s the third one that’s shown up in the last two weeks. The first one was tossed on the deck overnight.”

Mal tilted his head, gently swiveling his chair back and forth. “You still have that boat berthed in the Nehalem River?”

Brodie nodded. “And running my charter service.” He glanced at me. “Private fishing expeditions. Whale watching. That kind of thing.”

I blinked, surprised that he was addressing me. Once Mal or Niall showed up, most clients ignored me. At least when they weren’t sneering at me. I bent my head and jotted a note on my pad—even though it was just a doodle of a fish with Xs for eyes—so I wouldn’t gape like a total idiot.

“The first time,” Brodie continued, “I thought it was just a random thing. Other fishing boats ply the same waters. It could have been an accident.”

“Uh huh,” Mal said. “Did you keep that first one?”

Brodie screwed up his face. “Hell, no. I tossed it to the gulls. I didn’t pay too much attention to it, if you want the truth.”

“Then what?”

“It happened again. Another dead herring, only this time, it couldn’t have been accidental. It wasn’t just tossed on the deck. It was shoved inside the aft locker. I had to replace half my life vests.”

Mal studied him, eyes narrowed. “I’d think you’d have found it before it had a chance to…contaminate the equipment.”

“I would have, if I hadn’t been away for three days scouting the best deepwater sites for an upcoming salmon fishing charter.”

I looked up from my pad. “Hold on. How could you scout the ocean without your boat?”

“Selkie,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Mal took pity on me. “Selkies are seal shifters.”

“Ah.” I scribbled more notes, this time more to the point.

Mal gave me a nod of approval. He seemed to be taking this seriously now. Score! We might actually have a case that didn’t involve me sitting on my butt staring through my camera for a change. “Was that where the odiferous specimen you gifted Zeke with came from?” he asked.

“No. That one showed up this morning. On my engine block. If I hadn’t noticed it before I started up, I’d have never gotten rid of the stink.” He ran his big hands through his hair. “This is destroying my business. I had to cancel two charters, one after the second attack, and one today. The last thing landlockers need on the open ocean, especially when there’s a lot of chop like today, is something else to unsettle their stomachs.”

Mal steepled his fingers. “Do you have any idea who might be targeting you?”

“I do.” Brodie’s expression turned grim. Well, grimmer, since he hadn’t exactly been a Cheerful Charlie up until now, anyway. “I think it’s my husband.”

My stomach jolted like I was the one on a wave-tossed boat. Husband. For the love of Mike, why were all the men around me already taken? Not that Brodie would have been a romantic possibility for me, anyway. Other than his size, he was the exact opposite of the man who unknowingly held my heart.

I cleared my throat. “Why would your husband threaten your livelihood? Surely it affects him too.”

Brodie snorted. “You’d think.”

“If I remember the man correctly…” Mal tipped his chair back on its gimbals. “…I’d guess he expected a slightly different lifestyle when he accepted your proposal.”

“I didn’t hide anything from him. He knew the situation. And my reasons.”

“Ah, but hope springs eternal, and all that. If I recall his rather fanboyish pillow talk—”

“Oi. None of that,” Brodie growled.

“Wait.” I held up my hand. “That stuff about fiancés wasn’t just generic? You slept with his fiancé?”

Mal shot me an irritated look. “Wyn wasn’t anybody’s fiancé at the time, not yet. Trust me”—Brodie snorted again, earning a glare from Mal—”if I’d known that’s what he was looking for, I’d never have taken him out of that damn club.” He smirked. “It’s not like I needed to work that hard for partners back in the day.”

“So modest,” I murmured with an eye roll, earning a grin from my boss and a glance of grudging approval from Brodie.

“Just stating the facts. The Wyn I met was something of a celebrity hound. A status seeker. I wasn’t nearly important enough for him, thank the Goddess.”

I frowned, glancing between the big, rough-hewn man—selkie, I guess—and Mal with his nearly surreal beauty. Yes, Brodie was attractive, especially given my predilection for large hairy men, but Mal was…Mal. He would have been the Queen’s Enforcer back then, hardly somebody to sneeze at, even though he’d had a terrible reputation as a serial dater at the time. But surely a status seeker would have found the challenge nearly irresistible.

“If that’s all you saw in Wyn,” Brodie said tiredly, “you didn’t know him as well as you think.”

“I saw enough to keep the connection brief,” Mal retorted. “So why do you think he’s stinking up your boat?”

Brodie heaved a sigh. “We’re severing the knot.”

“Severing the knot?” I asked, glancing from Brodie to Mal.

Mal waggled his ring finger again. “Bryce and I got married at city hall after we had our handfasting in Faerie. Wyn’s fae, and since selkies have Faerie reciprocity, they’d be eligible for a Faerie ceremony.” He glanced at Brodie. “I’m assuming you never jumped through the Outer World legal hoops?” Brodie shook his head, and Mal turned to me again. “So in order to end their marriage, all they need to do is sever the knot in Faerie. It’s called a sundering ceremony.” He flicked his fingers. “No pesky Outer World legal shenanigans necessary, although it does require royal dispensation.”

Brodie shrugged. “It was taking a wee bit more time to arrange the sundering than we’d imagined.”

“Dragging your feet?” Mal’s tone wasn’t entirely unsympathetic.

“It’s not a step to take lightly,” Brodie said defensively. “There were…complications. I…wanted to make certain it was best for him. For both of us.”

“Do you think he was lashing out? Retaliating for the delay?” Mal asked.

From Brodie’s expression, he wanted to lash out at Mal’s apparent insult to his husband. Must be still in love with him, I guess. Especially if he was trying for a reconciliation. “I’d heard…” He took a gulp of his water. “I think he’s seeing his old bloke. The one he left for me.”

Mal choked on a laugh. “Reid Martinson? That wanker? With a blow that low, surely you were tempted to respond with a little dalliance of your own?”

He glowered at Mal from under lowered eyebrows. “I made a promise, and when I make a promise, I keep it.”

Something was tugging at my memory. Martinson…Martinson… Aha! “Isn’t Martinson the name of that elemental mage who lives in the West Hills?”

Mal nodded briefly. “That’s Pierce Martinson, Reid’s father. Reid is magic-null, but makes up for it with all the money he’s rolling in.”

“Bloody entitled git,” Brodie growled. “His daddy’s been enabling him since his cradle. They never stopped poking at Wyn the whole time we were married. Probably why he…” He shook his head, jaw tightening. “I don’t blame him. He expected more from our mating than he got. He was tired of waiting for me to…to…”

“To give up the boat?” I asked.

He turned his scowl on me. “To take the bloody throne.”

My eyes widened, and I glanced from him to Mal. “Throne? What throne?”

Mal chuckled. “What Mr. Brodie failed to mention is that he’s king of the selkies. Or he would be if he ever stepped up to the plate and accepted his responsibilities.”

King of the selkies. Good grief. And I thought Ted was way out of my league. Not that I was thinking about Lachlan Brodie in the same way. Mostly. But holy crap. King of the selkies?

“That’s a load of bollocks,” Brodie growled. “We don’t need a bloody king. This isn’t the Middle Ages.”

“Nevertheless, didn’t Wyn sign on expecting to become a prince?”

Brodie scrubbed his hands over his face. “Look. I never promised him anything other than faithfulness and all my worldly goods.”

“Seems like a lot,” I said faintly. It would certainly be enough for me.

“Except Wyn had a rather different notion of what a selkie king’s worldly goods entailed,” Mal said dryly. “Wonder where he got those ideas?”

Brodie glared at him. “Not from me. Somebody filled his head with tales about an undersea palace.” His tone dripped with disgust. “Bunch of codswallop put about by my ancestors to impress the human women they wanted to seduce. But he’d seen my boat. He’d even gone on a couple of charters with me, seen how things worked. I’d taken him out in my skin—”

“You do naked charters?” I croaked. Just the thought of it… Well, in Oregon, it might be a little chilly, but—

“Mind out of the gutter, Hugh. He means in his seal skin,” Mal said with a smirk. “He took him on a swim in shifted form. Selkies can do that and keep their mate safe underwater.”

I shivered a little at that. The Pacific, even in the summer, wasn’t exactly bathwater-toasty off the Oregon coast. “Brrr.”

Brodie’s mouth curved in a half smile and for a minute my brain winked offline because…wow. “We selkies know how to keep our lovers warm, lad, never fear.”

Okay, was that flirty? Or just factual? Ugh, he was married. I swallowed thickly. “Right. Guess I’ve got some research to do.” I blinked when his smile grew. “I mean online research. Or libraries. Books. And articles. And…” I slumped in my seat, studiously ignoring Mal’s grin of unholy glee. “I’ll just be quiet now.”

Luckily for my terminal blush, Zeke bustled in with the tea tray. He gave Brodie a wary glance and approached him slowly, probably checking for more weaponized fish. He started to slide the tray onto the table at Brodie’s elbow, but the pack was in his way. He reached out to move it aside.

“No!” Brodie leaped out of his chair, sending it spinning away on its well-oiled casters to bang against the wall. He snatched up the bag and clutched it to his chest, glaring at a wide-eyed Zeke. “Touch that again and I’ll take your bloody hand off.”