Chapter III: The Beach Party

“Reception please.”

Pikara lay on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. She twisted the phone cord around her finger impatiently, waiting for the operator to direct her call to the hotel’s receptionist.

“Hello and welcome to the Wavend Sea Hotel, how can I be of assistance?” Her voice was soft and smooth, like the waves at the beach during the afternoon.

Pikara sat up, inches away from banging her head on the wooden wall.

“Oh hi, listen, can you send some bath robes into my room? White or pink would be nice.” The advertisements on television had ended and were then followed by a mage forecaster standing by a screen.

“Ok, what room?” asked the receptionist. Over the phone, muffled voices could be heard in the distant background.

“Umm, room 23 A,” said Pikara looking at the metal plaque on the door.

“Ok, anything else?”

Pikara’s white blouse and beret lay flat by her feet. Hidden beneath the clothing was her morble pouch.

“Oh yeah, do you know where I can find a MTM?” asked Pikara as she gave her pouch a little shake.

“There’s one about two blocks from here. But you can make a withdrawal at reception if you want.”

Pikara grinned, the perfect opportunity to refill her pouch.

“Oh yay! I’ll be heading down soon! Thanks! Bye!” and in her excitement, she slammed the phone on the receiver. She reached for the remote on the coffee table and deactivated the mute on the television. The mage forecaster was about to give information on the weather in the Icisoria region.

“In Cystrafree today, there will be a blizzard coming from the south-east. Temperatures will go as low as minus twenty ice levels. Expect things to go super cool folks!”

Ignoring the enthusiasm shown by the reporter, Pikara began to button her blouse. While the mage continued the forecast of the Icisoria region, she held the receipt close to a lamp in the room. At the bottom right hand corner, the foil strip glistened in prismatic colours. She tilted the receipt slightly and the code appeared.

Bellamy had told her to memorize the code. Pikara did not see the point to it. Once she had handed her the receipt, she wouldn’t need to see the code again. In case Bellamy tried to rip her off, she wrote the code in one of the pages of her note book. She figured it was only to prove the authenticity of the purchase.

“Moving up the Eastern Coast, the beach town Wavend will be celebrating the end of the first half of summer. They will be glad to hear that it will be a clear night with calm westerly winds.”

Pikara turned to the window, glancing at the sky. Dark clouds were sailing along the shadowy outlines of the mansions, tucked away at the farthest corner of the maze. Suspicious, she couldn’t help but ponder on whether the forecast mage had made a mistake or a storm was really coming.

Using both hands, Pikara tightened the knot and drew the tie up to the collar. Wearing her beret, she winded the brim to the side for a dramatic pose. Satisfaction beamed across her face.

The elevator ride stopped at different floors. Leaning on the rails, her eyes closed in thought of what the code meant. More people began to fill up the space. The cheerful voice of reason in her mind lapsed with each intake of breath. The elevator jerked to a halt. Pikara felt as though her weight had channelled into the metal floor and erupted back beneath her feet. The doors slid open and the people gushed out. Pikara was the last to step through the threshold and into the main entrance.

The receptionist gestured the businessmen to where the elevators were. Pikara was the next in line, holding her card with two fingers. The receptionist typed in the details onto the computer. Once Pikara had entered her password, she was given the morbles and a receipt to confirm the transaction.

“Going to be a mage detective, Miss Pikara?” The receptionist leaned over the counter, her eyes wide with shock.

Pikara had finished placing the morbles into her pouch and attached it to her belt.

“The pink detective, actually,” Pikara retorted, deciding to score some marks in originality for having the question repeated to her by the people in the town. As she made her way to the rotating doors, the receptionist stared at Pikara, watching her closely as she left.

Outside, a sonic boom immediately ceased the conversations that took place in the entrance way. Flaming balls raced for the blanket of clouds; howls pierced through the emptiness of the night, sending jets of purple light scattering across the sky.

She darted down the flight of stairs, constructed by the face of the cliff that led to the sea. Lanterns hung on the lines, connected from the tree trunks to the roof of a restaurant. They were suspended over several tables where the diners ate. Nearby, stalls were situated, mostly by merchants seeking profits from the event. A girl who was a head taller than Pikara had stopped her from being the next customer to be served.

She finished browsing the candy, disappointed. She shoved her way out of the crowd, pushing Pikara on the way.

“Me! Me! I’m next!” Pikara cried out over the top of the feuding mob. With one mighty push, she squeezed herself to the front, the position that everyone was battling over.

The sweet aroma of candy had grown strong. Pikara’s eyes were fixed on the jellies wobbling on the plates. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth began to water in hopes of indulging herself in its fruity taste.

“Gimme the pink one!” Pikara bellowed, pointing at the jelly she desired. She was about to pay the merchant when an icy cold hand gripped onto her wrist. She was dragged out of the mob; the people gave way, suspecting that she was getting arrested for her wild behaviour. Looking at how tall she was, Pikara realized that it was the same girl that had shoved her as she left without purchasing any of the candies that were on sale.

As they arrived back at the restaurant, she released her grip on Pikara.

“What do you think you were doing?” she asked sternly, her back still turned on Pikara.

“Hey! I should be asking you! You dragged me out right when I was about to pay!” Pikara massaged the strain on her wrist. The girl turned to face her.

Her eyes were dark, gleaming with the sense of temptation. The heavy mascara around them contrasted with her pale white skin. She headed closer for Pikara, her dark hair wisping to the breeze. She ran her finger across her lip which seemed to glow against its darker surroundings.

“Oh, Bellamy, it’s you.”

Bellamy kept a stern face. She had suspected that it would have taken Pikara a while to recognize who she was in her usual appearance.

“The merchants that come to Wavend annually are not what they appear to be.”

She treaded next to Pikara, her eyes panning the beach site.

“What do you mean?”

Changing the topic, Bellamy grabbed hold of her wrist once more. She knelt down and whispered in Pikara’s ear.

“So, you’ve decided to come Pink, but for what? The photos, or for ice cream?” Her breath was like an icy wind sweeping the side of her cheek.

Pikara thought about the question. As much as she loved eating free ice cream, she still had to complete the Final Trial.

“Can it be both?”

Bellamy laughed and sprinted from the way she came from.

Pikara squealed. She was taken into the restaurant where she was greeted by the sound of banging pots. They were standing on a crimson carpeted floor. A giant chandelier hung among the wooden beams, attached to the roof. From the main body, its crystal arms extended to the walls. At the end of the arms were glass spheres illuminating the restaurant.

“Here’s the deal Pikara, join the competition, and you get the photos.”

There was a long table in the middle of the lower floor, laid with glass goblets that contained ice cream. Plastic chairs were placed in rows with an aisle down the middle. Pikara now understood why the diners were eating on the roads. This was where the competition would take place.

“So, what do you think?” Bellamy muttered and placed her arms on her hips.

“When I win, can I have one of those metal bracelets around your wrists?”

Bellamy bit her tongue back as she considered over Pikara’s words.The idea of a girl like Pikara wearing those metal bracelets was at the back of her thoughts after the competition started.

“Of all the girls Bell, you went for the pink, cutesy one.”

Bellamy and Blissy sat around the table on the second floor of the restaurant, overlooking the competition below.

“Look at her!” yelled Blissy over the top of the cheering crowd.

Bellamy sulked in the chair with her arms crossed in silent solitude.

“Are you listening to me Bell!?”

Bellamy kept silent. She swept her arms and grabbed hold of the drink, sitting on the table.

“You seem to forget Blue that we were supposed to feed them."

“And you think Pikara is doing just that?”

Bellamy swirled the wine and took a sip. She gestured to the waiter coming up the stairs, brandishing the empty glass. The waiter placed the empty bottle on the tray and headed downstairs to bring them more wine. She had turned to face Blissy again.

“Yes, Pikara has done a much better job than those in recent years. Never had I seen the Shadowmeres so eager to feast.”

Blissy let out a breath, “More like she’s eating their rations up.”

“For a name like Blissy, you sure do a lot of whining.”

“At least I don’t dress like a freak!” shouted Blissy.

Bellamy lifted her feet onto the table, relaxing herself. She grinned at the thought that just came in.

“The Shadowmeres will just have to rip her apart then,” Bellamy said nastily.

“You can’t be serious Bell,” straightening herself up,” Why risk revealing the Shadowmeres’ whereabouts to just one girl?”

The waiter had returned with a new bottle of wine. He lurched over and began pouring the red liquid. The wine ebbed and flowed, crashing onto the sides of the glass as Bellamy grasped it by the neck.

“You know I was joking,” she said with a smug smile, “But I wonder if the others have found it yet. I’m beginning to think those idiots have lost themselves in the maze.”

The crowd below erupted into cheers of celebration. Blissy became startled by the sudden chorus of clapping. She curved over the wooden railing and looked down at the sea of heads. Pikara was licking the last streaks of ice cream in the goblet and slammed it onto the table. The applause grew to a climax and Pikara smiled happily at the crowd, waving her hand to express her appreciation. Unnoticed within the victory fanfare, the other contestants froze still on their seats, staring blankly at the person opposite to them.

“Looks like we have ourselves a winning loser,” announced Bellamy.

She dismissed the townsfolk and the Shadowmeres then signalled to Pikara to follow her upstairs.

“Have a seat,” pulling a chair out. Pikara jerked her head back to check that Bellamy didn’t pull her chair back further and sat.

“Congrats on winning Pikara, you did us ice cream lovers proud.”

Pikara smiled at the compliment. She bit the bottom of her lip, thinking of what to say. She was excited that the contest went in her favour, but there was this awkwardness that was perched on her shoulders. It was all too easy. The other contestants hardly put up a fight. She consumed the ice cream in great spoonfuls and had it all over her face when it ended, whereas they ate in a polite manner and made little to no mess. Surely, they could tell that it was no contest. Pikara had owned them.

The crackling of the flames in the torches had drawn the silence longer. Bellamy had her chin on her hand, waiting for her answer.

“Thanks I guess.” It was Pikara’s comment on the entire contest.

“Well, as I promised, here they are.”

Bellamy dive her hand beneath the table and flushed out an envelope from a pocket in her trousers.

“Open it now if you want.”

Pikara dug her nails beneath the seal and tore the back open. She drew the photos out and held it in her hand like a deck of cards. Blissy eyed at Bellamy. She nodded back, assuring her safety and Blissy faced the wall in slight detest of Bellamy juggling with her fate.

“Wow! Her hair’s almost as nice as mines!” Pikara was awe struck by Waverly’s silky blue hair that cascaded down to her waist. The way she was dressed in the photos brought back flashbacks of the girl at the beach.

Pikara carefully shifted through the evidence. In the photos, she was posing at a beach, either by herself or with her friends and family. Judging from the gentle surge of waves, Pikara assumed that it was the beach in Wavend. In a closer look, the sand was much crisper and golden. Sand castles were scattered throughout the beach, decorated with shells and seaweed that looked fresh and clean.

In one photo, Waverly gestured to a sand palace that was as high as the trees nearby. It became a fact for Pikara that magic was used in the construction of the sand castles from how realistic they looked as the sun shone on its sandy walls.

Right around the corner were waves about to crash onto a series of rocky spires protruding high into the air. Planted on the highlands was a community of grassy tussock sticking out of the sand dunes.

Pikara’s heart sank when she saw the last photo. Waverly stood naked in the water, rippling surface settling almost to her waist. She crossed her arms to grasp her shoulders partially concealing her petite breasts. Blue eyes rolled away from the photographer, cheeks turning a pale pink in a moment of shyness as water trailed down her body in rivulets.

Why would anyone so innocent and beautiful subject herself to such humiliation? Was she willing to sacrifice herself to the sin of lust? If it was anyone else, Pikara would probably have dismissed it as a way to attract the cootie monster.

Pikara’s thoughts were cut short when a heavy guitar vibe sounded in the silence of the restaurant.

“One sec.”

Blissy had resurfaced her head from her arms after enduring the comments that were made to her body. Bellamy had drawn her cellphone. With a sigh, she pressed “ok” and the guitar vibes ended. Blissy burst out of her chair and edged closer to her mistress.

Fumbling the rings of her black collar that was around the neck, Bellamy clinched her teeth. Blissy had retreated at the sudden built up of tension. Without another word, the phone was clammed shut. She nudged her head at Blissy.

“We're going.”

“What? But I thought we were hanging out.”

Bellamy shook her head. Knowing Pikara’s temper thus far, she held her by arms and drew her close. Her tongue rolled out, carassing her soft skin. With moist, black lips, Pikara was kissed on the cheeks.

Immediately, Pikara squelched her eyes.

“Eww that’s gross! You gave me cooties!”

She wiped the side of her cheek.

“Don’t worry little Pink, we’ll be seeing you soon.”

The ends of Bellamy’s black trench coat waved in the wind as she and Blissy headed down the stairs and left the restaurant, leaving Pikara in solitary thought. On the table, the photos of Waverly were laid out, except one.

As she updated her diary on the cellphone, Pikara held the photo closer.