LITMIR.BIZ

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began scratching him between the eyes. He stared at her with a blissful expression, one of his rear legs kicking reflexively against the tile floor.

      Speechless, Doyle released Bruno’s jaws. “Traitor,” he mumbled, stalking toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” he called, forcing a pleasant tone. A thimble full of cyanide perhaps, he added to himself. He opened the stainless steel refrigerator door, pasted with photos of Bruno and landscape scenes shot from the Ocean Magic.

      Eleanor darted over the long breakfast bar to hover above his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you have any decent champagne?” she asked in a hopeful voice.

      He looked at her askance. “Let me just check the wine cellar,” he answered dryly.

      Eleanor sighed. “I figured. But it never hurts to aim high. What are you having, then?”

      “Beer.” He punctuated the word with the thump of the bottle on the ancient olive-green countertop. “It’s beer, o.j., whiskey or water. Take your pick,” he added, grabbing a frosty mug from the freezer.

      Eleanor sniffed. “I’ll just have a nip of yours, then.” She pulled a tiny earthenware mug from somewhere within her color shifting dress and held it beneath the foamy, amber stream as he poured.

      Doyle led the way back into the living room and dropped onto his leather recliner, murmuring in contentment as he took a long, cold swallow of carbonated heaven. He waited for Eleanor to seat herself on the edge of the gently scuffed wooden coffee table in front of him.

      “So, now that I can talk to you without your charge thinking I’m a complete jackass,” Doyle gave the faerie an accusing look, “why is it that you think a merrow would be trying to drown Violet?”

      “I have no idea,” Eleanor said glumly. “Like I said before, I didn’t sense she was in danger until it was too late to help her avoid it. But I did get there in time to see one of them pulling her down. Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

      Doyle frowned and shook his head. “From the little I know of merrows, they tend to stay as far from humans as possible. And they’re not known to be violent. You said something happened to Violet a couple of months ago as well?”

      “Not to Violet, to her parents.” The faerie grimaced. “They were killed at sea. The human authorities said a freak wave must have sunk their boat and they drowned before they could be rescued. She’s here to pack up their house.”

      “Poor lass,” Doyle murmured softly. What courage it must have taken for her to go in the water today. And to nearly suffer the same fate as her parents, then have to return to their house and all the memories awaiting her there.

      “But what makes you think her parents’ deaths had anything to do with what happened today? It sounds like it was just a tragic accident.”

      Eleanor shrugged. “It’s a feeling I have.”

      Doyle stared at her. “A feeling? Anything more solid than that?”

      “Just that it’s my job to sense anything that might be a danger to Violet,” she retorted, her wings giving off a mutinous buzz, “and my feelings are rarely mistaken.”

      “Alright. I meant no offense.” Doyle held his hands up. “It’s just a bit hard to believe that we have a rogue merrow on our hands, out there murdering humans for no apparent reason.”

      “Three humans from the same family? There must be a reason, Doyle,” Eleanor insisted. “And I don’t want her going back in the water until I know she’s safe.”

      “So warn her away from it.” He shrugged as if that resolved the matter.

      Eleanor huffed in annoyance. “It’s not that simple. Violet loves the ocean. I can’t warn her away from it forever!”

      “So how do you intend to keep her safe?” Doyle demanded.

      “I’m glad you asked,” the faerie replied, pursing her tiny lips as if trying to hide a smile. “Since I can only do so much to keep her out of the water, and there’s even less I can do to keep her safe once she’s in it, what Violet needs is someone to protect her. Someone who’s an even match for a determined merrow. Someone like an immortal warrior, for instance.”

      Doyle gaped at her. “You mean me. You want me to protect your charge for you.”

      “I know you like her,” Eleanor pronounced with a look of sly satisfaction.

      “Be that as it may,” Doyle sputtered, “I fear her opinion of me leaves much to be desired. Thanks in large part to you, I might add.”

      Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “A misunderstanding that’s easy enough to fix. I have every confidence that, once you turn on that Irish charm of yours, she’ll warm right up. You’re a fine looking man. And believe me when I tell you that Violet noticed, whether she wanted to or not.”

      Doyle rubbed his thumb across his stubbly chin as he considered her words. Had Violet really found him attractive, despite the piss poor way he’d handled the situation with her today? “Fine,” he agreed after a moment. “I’d be more than happy to improve upon Violet’s first impression of me.”

      He narrowed his eyes and pointed at the faerie. “But don’t think I don’t know when I’m being maneuvered by flattery.”

      Eleanor gave him an innocent smile.

      “How shall I meet up with her? Where is she now?” he asked, attempting to sound more casual than he felt. In truth, he was as eager as a schoolboy to see her again.

      Eleanor’s wings drooped and she stared down into her mug. “She’s sitting alone in her parents’ closet, surrounded by their things, crying.”

      Doyle shot to his feet, startling a yelp from Bruno. “What are you doing here with me, then?” he demanded. “Go…do whatever it is you do. Comfort her!”

      When the faerie raised her face to look at him again, there were tears sparkling in her eyes. “She’s grieving, Doyle. There’s only so much I can do. I can share her sorrow, but I can’t take it from her. It’s something she needs to feel.”

      Doyle lowered himself back into his chair, cursing helplessly. “What she needs is to get out of that house. Can’t you persuade her to go out for a bite to eat somewhere? Then I can meet her and try to take her mind off it for a bit.”

      Eleanor wiped at her eyes and nodded, tucking her mug back into her dress and rising from the coffee table. “I think I can manage that. I’ll nudge her toward that crab shack, next to the docks. The rest will be up to you.”

      Doyle’s lips quirked up in a mirthless smile. “I’ll do my best to win the lady over. Just keep in mind that I’ll probably be more successful this time if it doesn’t appear that I’m conversing with my imaginary friend.”

      “Agreed. Oh and one more thing,” Eleanor added, crossing her arms and rising to look him directly in the eye. “If you hurt her, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your immortal life.”

      She blinked out of sight wearing a threatening glower. It was far more formidable than it should have been, considering her diminutive stature.

      Doyle stared after her with the confused expression of someone who’d just been put in his place by a cotton ball.

      Chapter Three

      Violet decided that there wasn’t anything much better than enjoying the evening breeze, and sipping a mojito, while you gazed out over the ocean at a spectacular sunset.

      She inhaled deeply, thinking that her parents had probably spent many evenings in this very spot doing precisely the same thing. The idea filled her with a strange serenity, as if they were with her now, lending her their strength despite their physical absence.

      “How you doin’ honey? You need

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