The Tomb of the Sea Witch (Beaumont and Beasley Book 2)

by Kyle Shultz

  “They honestly can’t even live without magic?”

  “They’re not like me. They don’t even have to blend in with non-Charmbloods. They typically spend their whole lives in their ivory towers, only consorting with fellow magic-users and magical creatures at parties where spell-casting won’t raise any eyebrows. The idea of even spending five minutes without magic is horrifying to them.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “This should be interesting.”

  “Getting back to the point,” said Crispin, “this professor—how exactly is he going to help us? Does he have magic that’ll let us breathe underwater, or something?”

  “There are spells like that, but they have undesirable side effects, and they don’t always work. Kiran has a more scientific solution to the problem. A submarine.”

  Crispin’s face lit up. “We get to ride in a submarine? That’s fantastic!”

  My stomach churned. “I think I’ve suddenly developed a bad case of claustrophobia. And underwater-ophobia.”

  Cordelia tapped her foot impatiently. “You don’t even have to come, Nick. Crispin and I can handle it.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I’m not letting either of you out of my sight until we’re safely away from this school.”

  “I will have to undress sometimes,” Cordelia pointed out.

  “I wasn’t being that literal.”

  “What’s this professor’s last name, by the way?” asked Crispin. “I’m assuming that calling him ‘Kiran’ would be a little too forward.”

  “His full name is Kiran Dhakar,” said Cordelia. “But if you want to make a really good impression, call him Captain Nemo.”

  I chuckled. “Nemo? Doesn’t that mean ‘nobody?’ Why would he want to be called that?”

  “It was his grandfather’s title. Passed down to him. He’s very proud of it. You see—”

  At that moment, I heard a noise from somewhere nearby. I turned sharply in the direction of the sound, sniffing the air as my fur stood on end.

  Cordelia broke off talking about Captain Nobody. “What is it?”

  “I heard something.”

  “I didn’t,” said Crispin.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, my ears are a lot bigger than yours.” I leapt up onto the parapet, crouching on top of it and squinting into the darkness. Heights had never agreed with me before, but the fact that I was now more agile and nearly invulnerable had fixed that—for the most part, anyway.

  At the other end of the roof, I could see a shadow moving. It was a long way off, however, and even my keen eyesight couldn’t make out any details of the figure. Whoever it was, they either disappeared or hid seconds after I noticed them.

  “Someone’s over there,” I said, pointing to where the shadow had been.

  Crispin shrugged. “Oh well. They couldn’t have heard us from that far away.”

  “We were shouting quite a bit,” Cordelia pointed out.

  “Let’s assume they didn’t hear us and hope for the best,” I suggested. “Better yet, let’s assume I only saw a raven or a rat or something.”

  “Good plan,” said Crispin.

  Alighting from the wall, I shoved my concerns away in a dark corner of my mind.

  No one overheard our conversation.

  Cordelia’s crazy plan will work.

  Everything is going to be fine.

  Sometimes my capacity for denial these days scared me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Me, Myself, and a Monster

  I used to be one of those people who never really remembered their dreams, apart from brief snippets of myself flying or being naked in public or sword-fighting with talking cabbages. Since the curse, however, my dreams have become a lot more vivid…and somewhat less silly. In fact, I often find myself uncertain as to whether I’m dreaming or awake. Finding out that magic is real has made it even harder to distinguish between the two. But sooner or later, something always gives it away.

  In this case, it was my reflection. My perfectly normal, human, good-looking-if-I-do-say-so-myself reflection, gazing up at me from a calm and glassy sea. I was on a beach, kneeling on a rock and staring at my reflection in astonishment.

  Definitely a dream, I thought. Bitter experience has taught me that I don’t get magical happy endings; just magical unfortunate beginnings.

  “Oh well,” I said aloud to the me in the water. “Even if it’s not real, I suppose I should enjoy it while it lasts.” I focused on my reflection, trying to commit every detail to memory. I hadn’t even seen a photo of my un-cursed self in over a month, and I was beginning to forget what I had looked like.

  Satisfied that my memory was now refreshed, I focused on my surroundings, hoping for a clue as to what my subconscious was trying to tell me. The beach seemed to stretch on forever in both directions. The sky was tinted rose and purple by the setting sun on the horizon. Looking behind me, I saw the dunes give way to a spreading, grassy moor. Not a building or a living soul was visible.

  “Pretty,” I murmured. “And peaceful. My subconscious has good taste.”

  Then the singing started. I’d never had a musical dream before, so this intrigued me. A woman’s voice echoed across the water, melodious and enchanting. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint where the song was coming from; nor could I make sense of any of the words. They were in a language I didn’t recognize—and there aren’t many of those, so this surprised me too.

  I did, however, know the melody. It was that same lullaby—the one Malcolm had been playing, and the one Molly had been humming. The song grew louder as I listened, one voice becoming many. In the midst of the words I couldn’t translate, I could hear the familiar, Logrish lyrics as well:

  Sail on to shadow, turn from the light

  I sing for thee so sweetly

  Fly to my arms and know my voice

  In darkness I wait for thee

  I shuddered. “Good grief,” I said, to no one in particular. “What’s that even supposed to be about?”

  A rippling in the still waters caught my eye. A woman was rising from the sea—her hair jet-black, her skin pale as ivory. Her lips moved with the music, though I still heard multiple singers rather than one. Her dark eyes lit up as they fell on me, and she smiled, reaching out to me with both hands.

  She was beautiful. So beautiful. And she was calling to me.

  I had to go to her.

  No, said a voice in my head. Stop.

  She glided towards me, the water only up to her waist now. A wave bore her up and onto the rock where I sat. As the water receded, I saw that her legs ended in a long fish-tail, with iridescent blue-green scales. Her upper body was covered by a gauzy blue garment that reached down to her hips, ending where her thighs would have been if she’d had any. Her song never faltered, caressing my ears, reaching into my soul.

  “My love,” she whispered, reaching out to touch my cheek.

  I felt my hand clasp hers as her lips drew nearer to mine. “My love,” I breathed, the words escaping me of their own accord.

  There was a loud gagging noise directly behind me, like a cat trying to cope with a hairball. “Oh, please, just stop.”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What on earth?” I cried, spinning around to see who had spoken. My hand almost pulled free from my beloved’s, but her grip tightened, holding me fast.

  “You idiot,” said the interloper. “Don’t you remember what happened in the mirror, with the White Queen? Are you really going to get tricked into kissing another soulless hellspawn?”

  It was me. Not the human me. Hairy-gargoyle me. Granted, this one was a bit…wilder. While I tried to keep my beastly self as presentable as I could under the circumstances, this version bore no signs of grooming. He was wearing hardly any clothes; just a torn pair of trousers. He stood on all fours, his lips curled into an angry snarl. His hackles were raised, and his tail swayed back and forth.

  “You,” I spat. “Where did you come from?”

  He growled. “Get away from he
r.”

  I felt a surge of anger. “No. I love her.”

  The beast snorted and shook his mane. “Of course you don’t. It’s magic, you pea-brain. Besides, she isn’t even real. None of this is.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but a wave of confusion made me forget what I had been about to say. The haze that had settled over my mind was beginning to clear. I felt my darling grip my hand even tighter, her fingers cold as ice. Struggling to sort out my conflicting emotions, I turned back to my beloved…no…the mermaid…to search for some clue to the truth in her beautiful…I mean, in her eyes.

  Her face was twisted in fury. As I met her gaze, her pupils dilated, spreading out from the irises until her eyes were completely black. Her skin changed to a sickly shade of gray, and her tail bulged and split into eight long tentacles. Her lower jaw jutted forward as her mouth opened unnaturally wide, revealing double rows of long, crooked teeth. The haunting melody warped into a discordant screech, battering my eardrums.

  I don’t often scream in terror. Only when the situation calls for it.

  This situation most definitely called for it.

  “AAAAAGH!” I wrenched my hand free from her grasp and tumbled backward off the rock, my back hitting the sand below with a heavy thud.

  The creature’s tentacles slapped against stone as she slithered toward me, tilting her head and stretching her jaws even further apart. Her screaming grew so loud that I was forced to clap my hands over my ears.

  “Shut your ugly mouth!” Beast-Nick roared and lunged at her, his claws extended. The two of them rolled into the water, their snarls and shrieks abruptly cut off as they sank beneath the surface.

  My heart pounding, I clambered back onto the rock so I could see what had happened to them. The water roiled where they had fallen, bubbles rising from the deep. For a moment, I weighed diving in to save Beast-Me. He had saved my life, after all—even though this was a dream, which probably meant that neither my life nor his was actually in any danger.

  Before I could decide whether or not to attempt a rescue, however, he suddenly emerged from the water. I would have expected him to draw in a huge gulp of air, but to my surprise, he didn’t. Being underwater for so long hadn’t fazed him in the least. He pulled himself onto the rock with his claws. Before I could shield myself, he shook the water loose from his fur, splattering it all over me.

  “Charming,” I said, brushing the water off my clothes.

  “Sorry,” he said, smirking at me. He began licking the water off his paw. At least I hadn’t developed that habit.

  “Who are you, exactly?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Well, you’re the monster version of me, but—”

  “I’m the one you’re trying to kill.” Apparently satisfied that his paws were clean and dry enough, he slid down from the rock and stretched out on his back in the sand, his hands behind his head. “I’m your curse.”

  “You’re…what?”

  He gave a purring yawn and closed his eyes. “You heard me.”

  I struggled to process this. “So you’re…a personification of my curse?”

  “If you like.”

  “But—but why are you talking to me like this? What are you doing?”

  “The same thing I’ve been doing ever since I was born.” He reached up with a claw to pick something out of his fangs. “Protecting you.”

  “Protecting me?” I jumped down from the rock, my feet skidding in the sand. “You’re ruining my life!”

  He chuckled and rubbed his nose with the back of his paw. “First of all, it’s not like I asked to get stuck with you. Cordelia’s the one who created me by breaking off that thorn from the Clawthorn Rose and stabbing you with it. And second, your life is much better since I came along.”

  “Better?!” I spluttered. “I look like a storybook monster, I’m on the run from magical assassins, and I’m stuck traveling from one misadventure to another with a nutty enchantress and my irrepressible little brother!”

  “Exactly. Isn’t it fun?”

  “No, it is not fun!”

  His lips twitched into a slight smile. “Whatever you say.”

  I hugged myself against a sudden chill. The absence of fur, while welcome, was making me feel unusually cold. “I’d like to wake up now.”

  “Suit yourself.” He rolled onto all fours and stretched like a dog. “I did set all of this up to warn you about something rather important, but if you just want to hurry off and ignore me—”

  “Warn me about what?”

  He stood up and grinned. “You’ve made a mistake, coming to Warrengate.”

  “Thanks. I’m already well aware of that.”

  “You think you’re here to find a way to destroy me. But you’re actually here to fight a very different enemy.”

  “Who?”

  He clapped a paw against my shoulder, so hard that I nearly toppled over. “Can’t give you too many details. I’ve only got a vague notion of what’s coming. I can tell you one thing, though. You’re really not using me enough.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re capable of in this form?” He spread his arms wide. “You've just been dipping your toe in all the special talents you can access now. If you dig deeper, you’ll find a lot more. You’ve got an incredibly accurate internal compass, for one thing. You’re capable of seeing colors outside the visible spectrum. You’ve already noticed that you can mimic any sound or voice perfectly, and that you can sort of tell when people are lying. Also, you can breathe under—”

  “I don’t want to ‘dig deeper,’” I interrupted. “You’ve already given me far too many instincts and behaviors that I can’t suppress. I certainly don’t want to add any more.”

  “Oh well,” he huffed, “suit yourself. Like I said, I’m only trying to protect you—not to mention Crispin.”

  “Why on earth would you care about Crispin?”

  The question seemed to surprise him. “Why wouldn’t I? He is my brother, after all.”

  “No, he is not,” I shot back. “He’s my brother. You leave him alone. And leave me alone, while you’re at it.”

  “As you wish.” He stepped back, smiling broadly as the sky darkened and waves began to crash against the shore. “You’ve got yourself into quite an adventure,” he said, waving goodbye. “Let’s see if you can survive it without my help. Good luck.”

  “What are you talking about?” I stepped toward him, but a wave crashed into me. As the water surged over my head, I felt an undertow catch me and pull me deep beneath the surface. Flailing my arms in an attempt to break free, I suddenly found myself face to face with the hideous sea-creature once again. I cried out in alarm as her gaping maw drew closer…

  …and then I woke up.

  My claws pulled free from the rafters, and I fell, landing on my head and crumpling into a heap on the floor. “Ow,” I moaned.

  It had taken me a long time to figure out how to get a peaceful night’s sleep after my transformation. I kept tossing and turning every night until I discovered the one position that calmed my new body completely—hanging upside down like a bat. It was ridiculous, but worth it to get some rest. Usually.

  I uttered a variety of imprecations under my breath as I stumbled to my feet. Looking down at my fur-covered chest, I gave a long sigh. The dream had been over far too quickly. To enjoy humanity just a little while longer, I would have been willing to put up with the homicidal mermaid-octopus-thing.

  Sitting down on the unused bed, I looked around the room. The light of the full moon was streaming in through the window, so I didn’t need to switch on the electric lamp. I’d been surprised to discover that electricity was used commonly at Warrengate. Contrary to my expectations, Charmbloods didn’t consider technology and magic to be at odds. According to Cordelia, they used both—frequently combining the two.

  My little suite was far from palatial. It was really nothing more than an attic with a bedroom,
bathroom, and miniature kitchen squeezed into it. But the high ceiling and exposed rafters were ideal for my unusual sleeping requirements, so I’d asked for these quarters specifically.

  Right now, however, it felt like the walls were closing in. Maybe it was the dream, or maybe it was Cordelia’s revelation that we would probably have to take a submarine ride as part of this little adventure.

  I need some fresh air, I thought. I snatched up my dressing-gown from the bedpost and threw it around myself. Instead of leaving through the door and getting lost in Warrengate’s endless maze of halls, I decided to take a more direct approach. Bounding over to the window, I opened it and squeezed through. I dug my claws into the stone wall and climbed slowly down, taking care to avoid other windows. I didn’t want to give some high-strung student or teacher a fright and get thrown out of Warrengate as a result.

  Within a few minutes, I had made it to the ground. My bedroom was on the opposite end of Warrengate from where we had come in, facing the open sea instead of the mainland of Caledon. The beach where I now stood was an unpleasant reminder of my dream. I forced myself to remember that this shoreline was entirely different. For one thing, it was rocky, not sandy. The smoothest portions were made of rounded gravel. For another, the sky was overcast, and there was fog everywhere. Not nearly as pleasant as the vacation spot my brain had put together.

  But had it really been my brain? Or was it the Beast, trying to manipulate me into doing what he—what it wanted?

  The Beast. I thought, shaking my head. So now I’m thinking of it as a separate entity? I must be going mad.

  “Hello!”

  I leapt several feet off the ground in surprise. Instinctively, I landed in a crouched position, ready to spring at any creepy long-toothed octopus women that might try to…

  It was only Molly. She was standing in the surf, her bare feet sinking into the gravel as the tide receded. She was wearing a knitted cardigan and a pair of trousers, the legs of which were bunched up around her knees. There was a small, knitted bag slung over her shoulder on a long strap. Her mussed appearance reminded me of her cousin—though Cordelia generally put on a fashionable outfit in the morning and proceeded to get completely disarranged by the end of the day, instead of dressing in something more functional to begin with.