Fantastical Island (Old School Book 2) Page 3

  Special effects was an awesome career and he’d built a solid reputation, one he was proud of.

  Now, he wondered if he’d been a bit too preoccupied with his work. “You think someone’s hunting the island’s fantastical creatures?”

  Naomi hooked a foot up on the bench and hugged her knee. “I’m not sure. It could be that the metz patches were dug up by bison or deer. The sea serpents could be nesting somewhere else.” She bumped her chin against her knee, obviously deep in thought. “The fantastical creatures may all have simply deepened their glamours so that I couldn’t see even their traces. Which is why I need to try out the amulet. Maybe everything is okay and they’re all still here.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  She sighed. “No. My intuition says there is a threat to the creatures.” She turned her head and gave him a wry smile. “I don’t have magic, but my intuition is generally right. This time, I hoped it was wrong. I still hope it’s wrong.”

  He replaced his sunglasses. “Is there a trade in fantastical creatures?”

  “It’s part of the illegal wildlife trade. Some people just have to have a shadow chameleon or a fairy spider. The worst are the trophy collectors. People who want to cage or kill creatures like rocs.”

  His blood chilled. “There is a roc pair who nest on the island.” They’d been part of his childhood; massive birds, stately in their soaring flight. He thought of them as the island’s guardians. A foreboding shiver snaked down his spine. “Usually, I see them from the ferry as they dive for prey. They’ll follow the chartered fishing boats and steal fish off the lines. I can’t remember the last time I saw them. It must have been the day before the big storm we had a month ago. But I’ve been so preoccupied, they could be there and I just didn’t notice.” He’d been intent on his notebook, keeping track of details and the project schedule for the latest Hollywood blockbuster he was working on.

  “Rocs would be hard to capture.” By her sympathetic tone, Naomi was trying to offer reassurance, but she was also a realist. “They’d also be a lucrative prize.”

  Meaning the hunters would be well-compensated for the difficulties of catching a roc pair.

  “Damn. I need to check on them.” He could sail his great-uncle’s boat, the Haunted Beauty, around to the northern end of the island, but one glance at the crowded harbor reminded him how frustrating that would be when navigating out would require dealing with all the amateur, weekend sailors. He decided he’d drive even if he had to hike the last couple of miles.

  “Can I come with you?” Naomi straightened up, hopeful and alert.

  He managed to hold back his immediate agreement. He didn’t consider himself a suspicious-minded person, but years of dealing with Hollywood studio executives had taught him how devious people could be. What better way was there to learn the locations of fantastical creatures than to get him all concerned as to their safety, and then, follow him around as he checked on them?

  Her mouth formed an O-shape of surprise at his hesitation. “You’re suspicious of me?” Then she nodded briskly. “Good!”

  “Good? I thought you’d be offended.”

  “No way,” she said fervently, her Australian accent strong. “The more people looking out for the fantastical creatures, the better. But it’s okay to take me along on your roc check. The old field report says the pair nested on Siren’s Knoll.”

  His jaw dropped.

  “I see they still do.” She smiled, put a finger to the bottom of his jaw, and closed his mouth. “Rocs live a hundred years or more. This could be the same pair. And now you know that you’re not giving away secrets, I can come with you. It’ll give me a chance to test the amulet’s power. Rocs are renowned for their strong glamour.”

  “And if the rocs aren’t there?” he asked.

  All humor and playfulness vanished from her expression. “Then their nesting site becomes a crime scene and I’ll look for evidence of the hunters. How they work, any vehicle tracks, anything that’ll help me identify them. If the hunters can trap a roc, then they’re a serious threat.”

  He didn’t ask what could be done about such a serious threat to the fantastical creatures of the island. First, he needed to find out how real her suspicions were. Rocs first, then on the way home, he’d stop at one of the disturbed metz patches she’d mentioned and see for himself the damage done.

  Metz weren’t fantastical creatures. They were fantastical plants. They resembled cotton, except that their bolls released moths instead of seeds. So, maybe the metz were creatures after all? They were odd, but he had wonderful memories of sitting among a patch of metz as a kid. It had been a full moon that night and his dad had brought him to watch the moths hatching. Golden moths, dust falling like glitter from their wings, had exploded from the bolls and soared into the silvery moonlit night.

  Metz would be an easy target for traders in fantastical creatures. Could there really be such a trade on Catalina Island?

  Yes, common sense said. In fact, the island would be a perfect hunting ground. Creatures could be smuggled off by boat, and Los Angeles was so close with its international sea and airports. The creatures could be shipped around the world.

  “Okay.” He reached a decision, the only possible one he could live with. “Let’s go check on the rocs.”

  Naomi sat on the bench seat of the vintage pickup truck that Corey had reversed out of his garage. The old vehicle wasn’t the smoothest ride, but it had style. The dashboard sparkled with chrome. The hood was a dusty sage-green, all 1950s curves and amazingly shiny.

  “It’s an ongoing restoration project,” he said. “Vehicles rust in the sea air, so I replace parts as and when needed.”

  They’d wound down both windows and the wind blew in, carrying a faint salt tang. He leaned an elbow on his window, driving casually.

  She’d decided to trust him. It amazed her how right that decision felt. She had to remind herself to watch the scenery rather than him.

  He was so ordinary, and yet, intriguing—at least, to her. He had freckles on his broad, capable hands and a green paint stain on the outer seam of his jeans.

  The fact that he’d suspected her of trying to trap him into revealing locations for the various fantastical creatures as if she were one of the hunters she pursued was partly why she trusted him. Mostly, though, she’d just decided to make a leap of trust.

  All relationships entailed risk. The choice was how much risk and whether the prize was worth it.

  Judging by her sense of excitement that not even worry for the fantastical creatures could quell, Corey was worth daring a lot.

  The stakes for trusting him were higher than in a normal situation—the lives and freedom of the island’s fantastical creatures—but it still came down to an instinctual choice. Hers.

  She’d texted a friend that she was going for a hike with a guy she’d just met and his name. That was a basic precaution.

  Now, she had to see where the day took them.

  Corey didn’t talk much. She wriggled in her seat. Did that mean he didn’t believe her suspicions as to the loss of fantastical creatures or was he one of those rare personalities who didn’t borrow trouble?

  Imagine dealing only with current problems and not anticipating the worst! She tended to worry over things. It was how she prepared herself to handle trouble. Of course, the downside was she used up double the amount of time and energy on a problem than it actually warranted.

  She tried to imitated his calm, using the drive across the island to scan for fantastical creatures. When they returned to his house, she would accept his offer to repair the amulet’s chain. Again, it was a risk, but worth it. She would be much happier when she could wear it around her neck, rather than stuck in a pocket.

  A trio of bison in the distance caught her eye. They weren’t magical, but they were awe-inspiring. She imagined what it must have been like to have thousands and thousands thundering across the prairies of the Midwest.

  “Oh my gosh! Sto
p!” she squealed.

  Corey hit the brakes. The old pickup fish-tailed to a jolting halt.

  “A roc.” She pointed up through the windscreen, but the roof of the pickup already hid the immense bird.

  She scrambled out and Corey did the same.

  “It is a roc.” Relief deepened his voice.

  She was just awed. She’d read about rocs and seen sketches, but nothing could prepare a person for the reality. The roc soaring on the thermals overhead cast a gigantic shadow that skimmed over her and Corey and fled away over the grassed, open land to the sea.

  It wasn’t till the giant white bird diminished to a seagull-sized speck in the distance that she could tear her gaze away. She discovered that Corey was watching her.

  The green hood of the pickup separated them, sunglasses shielded their eyes, and yet, there was a sense of connection, a champagne-like fizz in her veins. She smiled at him. “That was amazing. Amazing!”

  He grinned. “Better than seeing a behemi?”

  She thought of Cliff, so cute and porcine-greedy. “Different.”

  “Have you seen any other fantastical creatures on the island?”

  The hood was warm from the engine and sunshine. She rested her hands against the side of it. “I’ve seen metz and a sea serpent’s shell. I’ve seen sea serpents’ nesting pools near Sydney, so I recognized the cracked shell pieces.”

  “And you think the sea serpents are missing.” He put a hand on the driver’s door. “We’d best go see. The roc was flying his usual lazy circles, so I’m going to assume his mate is also safe. We’ve no need to go on to Siren’s Knoll.”

  Naomi agreed. She pushed away from the hood and climbed back in, giving the location of the nearest empty nesting pools. They had to leave the pickup and hike a half-mile or so. The land sloped down to a rocky coastline and they scrambled the last bit, clinging to tough grass tussocks and finding unstable footholds.

  Corey jumped and landed on the narrow, rocky beach.

  She followed his example, and he steadied her landing with a hand at her waist. For an instant his body blocked the wind from her, and she felt warm and protected.

  Then he moved away.

  The sea glittered. Far in the distance, a boat sailed back to Avalon. Hopefully, its crew wouldn’t notice or care why she and Corey were poking around the rock pools.

  A crab scuttled near his left boot. He stepped around it and reached the first rock pool, about as big as his arms encircled. It was dark, the water in it still. It wasn’t the most likely nesting pool. Corey seemed to realize it. He moved on quickly.

  Waves hit the outer edge of the beach, hissing against the rocks there and murmuring as they withdrew. The tide was turning. They didn’t have long to study the pools.

  She picked a path among the rough, uneven rocks to the furthest rock pool, one as long as her body outstretched from fingers to toes. She bent over to study the algaed edges, then the center, before trying to peer into its depths.

  Even with the amulet in her pocket, no rainbow iridescence flashed.

  Sea serpents were lesser fantastical creatures, which meant that the traces they left were easier to see. The glamour that hid them was thin. From her experience of searching for them in Sydney, she knew to look for fragile rainbows in the rock pools. That shimmering iridescence was the sea serpents themselves.

  A wave licked over her shoes. Sea spray was dampening her jeans.

  “There’s nothing here,” Corey said, frustrated. He strode back, skirting the rock pools and sharper edged rocks.

  It wasn’t that there was nothing in the pools. There were crabs, limpets, even anemones. But there weren’t sea serpents.

  He gave her a boost up from the beach and onto the grassed slope. She grabbed at the grass tussocks, using them to help pull herself up the hillside till it leveled out. She straightened, grateful to be able to walk normally, and feeling the tremble in her thighs from the work-out they’d just gotten.

  Corey seemed unaffected by the exercise. Judging by the frown on his face, he was emotionally affected by the empty nesting pools. “With the tide coming in, we won’t be able to check out another sea serpents’ nursery. By the time we drive there, it’ll be completely submerged. Where is the patch of metz that’s been dug up?”

  “About two miles that way.” She pointed. The patch was even further from the road. Visiting it meant a two mile trek, followed by perhaps three miles to get back to where they’d left the pickup. Normally she wouldn’t mind, but her sneakers were wet and squidgy.

  He frowned at her feet.

  “The other metz patch is closer to the road, near Mermaid’s Lookout,” she suggested.

  “So close to a tourist trail? I never noticed any there.”

  “Most of the plants have been dug up. I found the patch last Wednesday, or rather, the few remaining plants on the edges of the area. You can see the disturbed ground for yourself.”

  The metz patch—or what remained of it—hid behind three clumps of poisonous castor bean plants. Corey studied the disturbed ground. At a casual glance, it might look as if deer had been going loco in the small clearing. A few sharply cut hoofmarks aided that idea. But the hoofmarks were too perfect, and they lead nowhere. Whereas, when he scouted out from the patch, there were scuffed boot prints. Yes, the area was near a site popular with hikers, but still…

  He returned to the pickup.

  Naomi had already done so. She’d taken off her wet sneakers and socks, and sat on the flatbed tray, legs dangling. She had great legs. And her toes were cute. She’d painted the nails blue with a white daisy on each.

  He liked the whimsy.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  He glanced up, distracted from her toes, and concentrated. “I think you’re right. Those plants were dug up.” He leaned against the truck near her. Before them, the island unrolled, green still from winter rains and with wildflowers starring the grass. The air smelled of the sea and freedom. This was why he stayed on the island and commuted in to his Long Beach studio. Living on the mainland, in a city, would feel too confined.

  He watched a couple of hikers heading back down the hill toward town. They were moving briskly enough to make it back before dark. “The empty sea serpents’ nesting pools could have other causes than their eggs being stolen. They might have abandoned the pools because of some change to the environment there or lost the population to disease.”

  Naomi nodded, approving rather than being offended by his reasoning, by his not immediately accepting her suspicions that hunters were on the island. “I’ve found a couple of snares by the third metz patch.”

  “Which is where?”

  “North eastern section of the island. I need a map.”

  He nodded. “You can show me later, but I think I know the metz patch you mean. It’s not far from Two Harbors. You’ve been busy getting to all these places.”

  “I’ve been worried,” she said simply.

  “If it’s the metz patch I’m thinking of.” He paused, but he trusted her. “There’s a jackalope burrow near it.”

  She’d been idly swinging her legs. Now, they froze. “Hence the snares,” she said slowly. “And a reason not to dig up that metz patch. Whoever the hunters are, they don’t want to scare away the jackalopes. Jackalopes would be worth far more than metz in the fantastical creatures trade.”

  She jumped down from the pickup. “I wasn’t sure there were hunters on the island. I hoped there weren’t. Not ones specializing in trapping fantastical creatures. But if there are, then they’re targeting the creatures with the thinnest glamours, the ones that are easiest to track through the traces they leave.”

  “Easy targets first, then working up to the more magical and difficult animals. Bastards. Sorry,” he apologized for swearing. “How would they sell their captives? Alive? Dead?”

  “Alive.”

  “So we can rescue them.”

  She smiled at him.

  The radiant smile hit
him like a punch to the chest. His heart jolted and seemed to pound heavier. He hadn’t realized he was so susceptible to a smile. He worked with megastar actresses who didn’t have this impact on him. Trying for a bit of sanity, he walked away, around the back of the pickup, to the driver’s door.

  Naomi had gotten in and was buckling her seatbelt when he slid in. “I don’t know if we can rescue the creatures already taken. They might have been shipped out. After all, where would they store them on the island?”

  “There are more places than you might think.” He started the engine. It roared to life before settling into a low rumble. “Although with Los Angeles so close the temptation would be to move the creatures on, fast.” And boats left Catalina Island all the time.

  “What worries me is that the situation could escalate suddenly.” The pickup jolted over the uneven road and she put a hand on the dashboard, bracing herself. Unlike her toenails, her fingernails were unpainted. Apparently, whimsy was to be hidden. To the world, Naomi showed a practical side. Just now, she was deadly serious. “If the hunting stopped where it seems to be at the moment, then I think the island’s fantastical creatures’ ecology could recover. The lynchpin species are still in place: like the jackalopes and the roc pair.”

  Avalon came into view, nestled among the hills that surrounded the bay.

  “But if we don’t stop the hunters, now…” She pulled the amulet out of her pocket and turned it over between her slender fingers. “You know how I said Catalina is a natural hotspot for fantastical creatures?”

  He nodded, edging to the side of the narrow road as the island’s bus approached.

  “Catalina is special because it’s not a nexus, but being an island and having been home to so many fantastical creatures for so long, it has accumulated significant ambient magic. Much higher than normal.”