Crimson magic splashed bright and hot over Bast as he shifted into a soggy lump of man who regretted his pick of venue, if his wild expression as he scrabbled away from the tank was any indication.
Eager to get my voice back, I embraced the change and returned to two legs.
“Keet?” I coughed a few times, my human throat tender. “Where is he?”
“Still in the water.” Corbin checked with Paula, who nodded it was over. “I’ll get him.”
“Thanks.” I forced myself to swallow the next brutal coughing fit, straighten my spine, and unleash my dominant nature. “You’ve had your fun and your five seconds of fame with the tourists, Bast. It’s over.”
A row of employees with sharp glowers crowded their own much smaller, private viewing window.
I was willing to bet they’d appeared the second I hit the water to ensure we didn’t harm their animals.
“Take your brothers and go,” I ordered him, “while I make nice with the aquarium staff.”
Mathieu and Ormand hooked their hands under Bast’s arms and hauled him to his feet. They carried the wobbly instigator strung between them, their expressions tight, a wet trail zigzagging behind them.
“Um, Eva?”
With the threats removed, I turned to Corbin, whose pale skin had taken on a greenish tint.
“We’ve got a problem.” He pointed to a banana-yellow feather floating in the water. “I don’t see him.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I rubbed a hand over my face. “That bird will be the death of me.”
Corbin and I scanned the sharks as they passed, but they all gave off a nothing to see here vibe.
None of them had the decency to have a feather stuck between their rows and rows of teeth, telling us which one was guilty.
The staff door swung open, and a tall woman with a blunt haircut prowled over to me.
“Eva.” Miss Lacy, a vampire older than the dinosaurs circling below, frowned. “The shark tank? Really?”
“She had no choice.” Corbin stepped in. “I’m sure you could see that, safe behind your acrylic wall.”
“What happened was reckless, thoughtless,” she clipped out, “and dangerous to the animals.”
“Corbin.” I cut him off with a slice of my hand through the air. “Miss Lacy is right.”
Miss Lacy, because she had been my favorite tour guide when I was a kid. That was how we knew each other, and that was why, after years of listening to her talk about shark conservation, she expected better of me.
“Of course I’m right,” she huffed, then drew me into a hug. “Now, unless my old eyes were playing tricks on me, your aunt’s familiar was just swallowed whole by our tiger.”
Withdrawing from her embrace, I asked, “Do we wait for him to pass, or…?”
“That would not be ideal.” Her thin lips pressed together. “The stomach acid would digest everything but the feathers, perhaps the beak. We’ll have to hope that…” She leaned over the tank. “Ah. The matter resolved itself. Classic gastric eversion. Do you see?”
The tiger shark had barfed up its stomach.
Not only the contents.
The entire thing.
A pink and pulpy mass hung out of his mouth, along with everything it had eaten lately. Including one pissed-off parakeet, who kicked off its forehead and rocketed toward the surface in a huff.
It did make me wonder, though. Tiger sharks were garbage cans of the sea. They ate everything. License plates, tires, a suit of armor, wallets, cameras, coins, fur coats. And once, a chicken coup. With chickens in it. I mean, how? Whatever we tossed into the water, they gobbled down.
Except, apparently, undead parakeets with savior complexes and aspirations to penguindom.
“Keet.” I scooped the bird out of the water and examined him beak to tail. “You’re in big trouble.”
Miss Lacy placed her hands on my shoulders and aimed me toward the stairs, her request clear. She left us with that not-so-subtle hint then went to speak to Paula. Likely, she wanted a copy of the video for their records in case the animals suffered any trauma from the experience.
“Bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum.”
“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I saw.” I cuddled him close. “There are probably already videos posted online.”
Uninterested in being soothed, he kicked free of me and lit on my wrist.
“Keep our oceans cleaaan…” He hopped up my arm. “Oceans, oceans, oceans.”
“I don’t recognize that song.” Corbin frowned. “Do you?”
“Oh, yeah.” I reached in my pocket and produced a soggy ticket. “It’s for The Little Guppies Show.”
“That sounds…interesting.”
“He won’t leave until he’s watched it.”
“I can take him, if you want to head home and shower.”
“I’m already here.” I shrugged. “Might as well stick it out to the bitter end.”
Also? I was terrified Keet would get ideas now that he had successfully penguined with sharks. Corbin wasn’t used to babysitting the little troublemaker. I would feel better if I kept my eyes on him.
“I’m going to buy dry clothes from the gift shop. Then we’ll get tickets.” The one in my pocket was worthless. We had missed the showtime. “Sound good?”
“Whatever you want,” Corbin murmured. “I’ll follow your lead.”
I didn’t trust his tone, his implications, or the shivers blasting down my spine.
We took the stairs, careful of the wet spots, and waited at the bottom for Paula to join us.
Ever the showman, Keet entertained us by hanging upside down then swinging from my middle finger.
“You missed your calling.” I scratched Keet’s earholes. “You must have been a bat in another life.”
“That was amazing,” Paula gushed as she caught up to us. “You’re a beast when you shift.”
A sour taste coated the back of my throat. “Thanks?”
“She’s fierce,” Corbin agreed. “Her coloring is unique too.” He swung his gaze to mine. “She’s beautiful.”
Paula glanced between us, a grin splitting her cheeks. “Where do I send the recording?”
I gave her my email addy for the video and got her number in case a statement was required from either party, or the aquarium.
“I’m in town for the week.” She ducked her head. “Want to grab lunch one day?”
When I hesitated, Corbin elbowed me in the ribs, and I blurted, “Sure.”
A flush burned in my cheeks, flashing me back to Mom setting up playdates with packmates’ kids.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she offered shyly, “and we can set something up, okay?”
“That sounds great.”
I smiled as she returned to her group, then I elbowed Corbin. “Really?”
“She seems nice, and you could use a friend besides me.”
“You’re not my friend.” I paused in stuffing Keet into his carrier. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.”
“Hmm?”
“Keet escaped by picking at a seam. He unraveled a section of the zipper and wiggled through.”
There was nothing for it but to keep wearing him and pray he would behave.
Ha.
Yeah.
I couldn’t even think that with a straight face.
Leaving Corbin to birdsit while I bought new duds and changed, I emerged from the gift shop itchy from the salt, but dry.
At the kiosk, Corbin took point, flirting with the older woman. “Two tickets to your next show, please.”
“One started not five minutes ago.” She blossomed under his attention. “You haven’t missed much.”
“That sounds perfect.” He hit her with his megawatt smile, and even my knees wobbled. “How full is it?”