“Tom-Tom,” Jimmy said, reaching toward his old teddy bear, still waiting on the shelf since the day my brother had vanished. I got it for him, kissed his forehead, and slipped from the room. Mother stayed, and I heard her singing a lullaby.
Diana was tired, too—we all were. She said to tell Mother goodbye for her and headed out to catch the Red Car back home. I sat alone in the kitchen, fatigue weighing me down but adrenaline humming in my veins. I lit the wood in the stove and put on the kettle to make tea, adding enough water for each of us to have a cup. I rummaged in the icebox but didn’t find anything I wanted to eat. I found a boysenberry pie in the pie safe and cut a big piece and ate it while I waited for the water to boil. I hadn’t realized I was famished.
The teakettle had just begun to whistle when Mother—her arms out in front of her, feeling for walls—made her way back into the kitchen. I was glad she couldn’t see my face screw up with pain as I watched her.
“He’s sleeping,” she said, walking cautiously to the table. She felt for a chair and collapsed into it.
I filled a tea ball with orange pekoe leaves, put it in Mother’s favorite porcelain teapot, the one with a ring of violets around the fat pot’s belly, and poured in the boiling water.
“Does he remember what happened?” I asked.
Mother shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, consciously, but unconsciously, he very well may. There’s plenty of time to figure out what he remembers or doesn’t in the coming days. For now, he needs to rest, to know he’s home, and he’s safe.”
I nodded and yawned, then poured the tea into celadon green cups and gently guided Mother’s hand to one.
“Do you want to stay the night?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, thinking I’d probably move back permanently, to help with Jimmy. Newly blind, Mother would have a hard time on her own. I reached up and fingered the stars in my hair.
A noise startled both Mother and me. We swung our gazes to the doorway. Jimmy stood there, his thumb in his mouth. He took it out and said, “The seal tell me something.”
“What, Sweetie?” Mother said.
Jimmy kept his gaze locked on me. He drew in a deep breath and his hands formed loose fists, as if he were trying to remember the words exactly.
“One more blast of magic,” he said. “Trust yourself.”
A great cloud of energy seemed to burst inside me. The silver starfish at my throat warmed. In my mind’s eye, I saw words written in silver script. Words I didn’t know, had never seen before, and yet my mouth seemed to know exactly how to say them, as if I’d known them my whole life. Words that felt like music as I said them.
A sound like the tinkling of breaking glass whispered in my ears. I broke off the words—they seemed done now—and looked down. Tiny stars lay scattered on the kitchen floor. They glowed bright yellow for a moment and then flame red—and then were gone.
I cautiously ran my fingers through my hair. Nothing.
No stars.
I laughed once and swung my head to Mother.
“I saw them,” she said, her voice thrilled. “I saw the stars fall.”
You did?” I said. “You saw them with your eyes—not some sort of magic vision? You can see?”
Yes,” Mother said. “Yes.”
We broke into that mad laughter that is relief and joy combined.
Jimmy stared at us.
“Tired,” he said. “Sleep now.”
“My beautiful boy,” Mother said, and crossed the room to sweep him up in her arms and put him back to bed.
When she came back, she sat at the table again and said, “You should go home.”
“I’ll stay,” I said, though in truth, with Mother’s sight back, I did want to sleep in my own house, my own bed, with my own things around. So much had happened today. I wanted time to think about it.
“Go home,” she said.
“I’ll come tomorrow or the next day, whichever you think is best for Jimmy. He’ll have some adjustments to make.”
Mother nodded and sipped her tea.
“Something you need to know, Cassie,” she said.
I saw that Mother was rethinking what she’d planned to say—deciding if she wanted to say it or not. My stomach clenched.
“It’s your young man,” Mother said. “Diana told me what he is. He’s not natural.”
“What does that mean?” I said.
“He isn’t who he seems to be.”
“Mother,” I said, exasperated and too tired for mysteries. Fear slithered through me. I remembered his kiss, how it made me feel. Was he playing me for a fool?
My insides froze with a terrible thought. “Is Pax a gremhahn disguise?”
“No,” Mother said, and relief flowed through me. “But you’d best ask him who and what he really is. It’s not my place to say. It should come from him.”
I remembered the first day I took Pax to Diana’s, the sour looks she gave him. But she’d seemed to warm to him later. If he were something horrible, she never would have done that.
I stood and kissed her cheek. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I slept most of the ride home, the gentle swaying of the Red Car lulling my sprung nerves and exhausted body. Jimmy was back. The curses were broken. We’d done it.
Nineteen
Hermosa Beach, California
July 11, 1924
Scout snuffled in her sleep, her paws running in some dog dream, the motion rousing me from a dream of my own that vanished at waking.
I got up and looked in the mirror. How could I look the same as always after yesterday? It didn’t seem right, but there I was, the same Cassie—minus the stars in my hair. I lifted the starfish necklace, wondering if it had burned me, leaving a scar. It should have, as hot as it had flared. It seemed something should mark me as changed, but there was no outward sign at all.
Scout jumped down from the bed and padded down the stairs.
“Are you hungry?” I said, following her. I was famished. I made breakfast for both of us: kibble for her; eggs, bacon, toast, and tea for me.
I thought about Pax while I ate. Pax, who was “unnatural,” Mother had said. What did that mean? I finished eating and washed the dishes, still wondering what Mother and Diana knew that I didn’t. I combed my starless hair, put on a cream-colored lace tea dress, and went to find out.
I spotted him coming down the Strand, dressed in white linen trousers and jacket, a light-blue shirt, and a straw boater. I saw three girls swivel their heads to watch him walk by, then turn to each other and whisper. He seemed immune to the numerous and lustful stares women sent his way. He was closer to the Berth Hotel than I was, and I worried he’d disappear inside before I could catch up. I sped my steps and caught his arm just as he turned to go inside. My stomach knotted while I wondered what to say, how to phrase the question, now that we were face to face.
Pax raised his eyebrows and peered at me. “You have something to ask me?”
I could never play poker. My face gave away my thoughts every time.
I nodded. “I do, but it’s personal. Can we go somewhere private?”
“My room?”
I hesitated. A proper lady would never go alone into a gentleman’s room. But I trusted Pax, no matter what Mother had said.
I followed him through the lobby and down a corridor to his large and bright room that held a bed, a small wardrobe, and a sitting area with two chairs. A large, full carpetbag, nearly big enough to hold a body, lay tucked to one side of the bed.
“What do you keep in there?” I said, looking at the bag.
“Is that what you came to ask me? Your primary question?”
“No,” I said, “but I’d like to know.”
“Ask your important question,” he said, settling into one of the chairs and inviting me with a nod to take the other. “The first may lead to the rest. I assume there is a rest. Likely a whole slew of them, once the gates are opened.”
I remained standing. “What are you,
Pax?”
He smiled slowly. “An odd question.” He spread his hands wide. “What you see. Why do you ask?”
I sat in the second chair, smoothing my skirt with my hand. “The first day we went to Diana’s, she kept looking at you funny. Then the two of you went into the kitchen and when you came out, she was all smiles and light.”
“Perhaps I charmed her,” he said.
I shook my head. “No. I think you told her something. And she told my mother. Mother says you aren’t natural. She wouldn’t say what she meant by that, only told me to ask you.”
Pax regarded me a moment, then nodded. He stood and walked the few steps to the bed, picked up the bulging carpetbag as if it weighed nothing, and headed toward the door. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
We walked down to the shore, Pax leading the way with strong, sure steps. I shivered a little, remembering what had happened on the beach the day before.
He set down the bag and glanced toward a group of girls lazing on blankets nearby. “A cloaking spell would be good now.”
My heart beat fast, wondering what he had to show me that needed cloaking. My curiosity had ramped up to nearly bursting level. I cast the spell and nodded at him to proceed.
“I think you’ve known for a while what I am, Cassie,” he said, as he knelt and opened the bag.
I almost said the word, almost said selkie, but held my tongue.
He reached into the bag and drew out what looked like a large fur coat. He slipped on the fur, and instantly a large, beautiful harbor seal stood where Pax had been. The seal gave me a look and moved toward the water more gracefully than any seal I’d ever seen move on land. Moments later, he disappeared beneath the water. He reappeared, rolled onto his side, and slapped the water with his flipper—a pretty clear invitation to join him.
I took off my shoes, held the hem of my skirt in my hands, and waded into the water. SealPax swam up next to me, rolled onto his side again and splashed water my way. There were maybe ten or so other people in the water but they couldn’t see us under the cloaking spell.
A thought struck me. “It was you who saved me when I fell into the sea, wasn’t it? And you who brought the giant wave that washed away the false goblins.”
The seal didn’t answer, but sidled back onto the sand. I followed, wringing sea water from my wet skirt with my hands. The seal gave a shake and Pax stood in front of me again, the seal skin at his feet.
“You didn’t think you wanted my help,” he said, pushing some errant strands of wet hair away from his forehead, “but I believed you might need it.”
He was right about that.
“Well, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and grinned.
I pursed my lips and hit his shoulder. “You could have told me. We talked about selkies. You even said you’d seen them, but made it sound like a joke.”
He shrugged. “I could have told you, but I didn’t want to.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. It dawned on me that the reason Pax couldn’t help with breaking the spells was that he’d already planned to help in another way.
“What do you want to do now?” I said.
“Now I want to kiss you,” Pax said, and did.
It was the same as the last kiss, a frizz of lightning starting at my lips and spreading through my whole body—and it was different. Deeper. We shared secrets now. He knew I was a mage. I knew he was a selkie. The kiss sealed our trust in the other.
He ran his fingers through my hair.
“Your stars are gone,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “Jimmy delivered your message perfectly.”
I guessed it was relief that brought the start of tears to my eyes.
Pax let me have the moment, then gently wiped away the tears that had spilled onto my cheeks.
“Walk?” he said lightly, as if it were the most normal and natural next thing to do. The marine-layer clouds had burned off and the sun shone brightly.
He took my hand and we headed down the beach, vaguely toward the Palos Verdes hills, though getting to them was a longer walk than I felt in the mood for just then.
I thought that tomorrow I’d ask Diana to teach me a shape-shifting spell, one that would let me be a seal for a while, to swim the wide ocean with Pax, in his home.
Tonight, there were other things to do.
Also by Alexes Razevich
The Ahsenthe Cycle
Book one: Khe
Book two: Ashes and Rain
Companion story: Gama and Hest (can be read at any point in the cycle but is recommended to be read prior to By the Shining Sea.)
Book four: By the Shining Sea
Shadowline Drift – A psychological thriller with science fiction and fantasy elements, perfect for fans of Inception and Lost.
Jumper: A short story in which world-class shopper, Maddie Bresslin, accidently remakes the world. Magic realism and a little strange.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Meg Xuemei, Randy Jackson, Dan McNeil, Richard Casey, and Susan Marschner, wonderful writers all, for their help in shaping this story. Thanks also to the Hermosa Beach Historical Society, and especially to Chris Miller, for historical information. Anything I got right is due to them. Any mistakes are my own. Much gratitude to the lovely people who frequent my Facebook author page, especially those who helped name Pax and choose this cover. Y’all are the best. Thanks, as always, to Christina Frey, and to Doreen Martens for making this book better than I could on my own.
Much love to Larkin, Colin, and Chris Razevich—the three suns that light my world—and to Harley.
About the Author
Alexes Razevich writes speculative fiction. She attended California State University San Francisco where she earned a degree in Creative Writing. After a successful career on the fringe of the electronics industry, including stints as Director of Marketing for a major trade show management company and as an editor for Electronic Engineering Times, she returned to her first love — fiction. She lives in Southern California with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found playing hockey or traveling somewhere she hasn’t been before.
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: https://twitter.com/lxsraz
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AlexesRazevichAuthor
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The Girl with Stars in her Hair Page 18