Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by Amy Lee Burgess

  My stomach clenched. Regina’s words from last night. I hadn’t had the chance to beg Logan to stop needling the Lord Regent, and it didn’t seem as if it would have helped even if I had and Logan had agreed to be a perfect gentleman.

  “My father...” Logan faltered to a stop when the Lord Regent lifted a hand.

  “Your father’s magical abilities are invaluable at the hydro plant. He’ll be working double – perhaps even triple shifts – throughout the Reutterance. Naturally, your mother will be needed to work double shifts as well. Your youngest sister, on the other hand, can make up any classes she might miss while she’s detained.” The Lord Regent tilted his head to the side and looked at Logan as if he were a particularly interesting species of wildlife he was observing.

  Logan’s face darkened with fury. The wind picked up, gusting against us with such strength I grabbed for a handhold on the porch rail. The Lord Regent staggered, but quickly recovered.

  “There’s no need to lock up Chelsea.” Grief warred with rage in Logan’s voice. “You know you’ve got me over a barrel. Nothing I can do can even touch you.”

  “You begin to see the reality of your situation at long last.” The Regent smirked.

  Logan’s jaw bulged. “Let my sister go.” He inhaled sharply. “Please.” The word scraped out as if it hurt him to say it.

  “Perhaps,” said the Lord Regent. “I’ll need a few days to make sure of your resolve of course.”

  Rain hammered down, causing consternation from some of the guards. My mother lifted her face to the sky and allowed the torrential downpour to cascade across her cheeks. Her silent defiance both thrilled and terrified me.

  How old was Logan’s sister? She was still in school. She night be anywhere from five to seventeen. How would I have reacted to being thrown in jail as a child? Not favorably, that was for sure. I would been terrified out of my head. My heart went out to Logan’s poor sister. She’d done nothing wrong.

  I stared hard at the Lord Regent. He’d always had all the power, no matter what Logan had said to bolster my confidence. That he would use it in this fashion proved him a despot. A despicable, horrible man.

  At first I thought the rumbling sound was thunder, but when the cracks zigzagged across the wooden slats making up the porch floor, I realized it was the ground. Shaking.

  Something glass crashed inside the mansion. A woman screamed.

  “Demetria!” Mother called my name in her sternest voice. The one she used when I was a child and had disobeyed.

  Astonished, I stared at her, and the earth stopped grumbling and shaking. Shock coursed through me. Had I been making the ground move?

  “See that the witch has what she requires to keep her daughter from behaving like a wild animal!” The Regent pointed a long finger at Colonel Murgatroyd, who stood just behind my mother. Drenched with rain, he could barely see through the wet hair in his eyes, but he acknowledged the Regent’s words with a brisk nod. Rainwater flew in all directions.

  The Regent stalked through the open front door then whirled around to face us. “And get someone to repair this damage!” he shouted before slamming the door.

  Stunned silence gripped those of us left outside. Logan bowed his head and his chest heaved. Was he struggling not to cry?

  “Logan?” I rushed to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged away my touch. Perhaps he didn’t want anyone’s concern or sympathy.

  “She’s afraid of the dark,” he whispered, still hanging his head. “She’s only ten years old.”

  Horrified anger spurted through my veins.

  “Bastard,” I hissed. “He won’t get away with this.”

  “Careful.” Mother had rushed up the stairs and now she stood close beside me, shivering. She pressed her mouth to my ear and breathed, “Trust no one, Dem. No one. Don’t let the guards ever hear you speak in anger or grief. Give them nothing to report.”

  “She’s a little girl,” I argued, unable to help myself. I clenched my hands into fists and pressed them into the skirt of the Lady Regent’s dress wishing I had my own, familiar clothes to wear so I wouldn’t feel so unanchored and more like me.

  “If we do what we need to do, everything will be all right,” Mother told me.

  Logan let out a ragged laugh. “Do you truly believe that?”

  “What’s the alternative?” Mother asked. She turned toward the guards who stood in the rain, their backs to us except for the Colonel who stared straight at us.

  “Colonel, I require space outside to work with my daughter. Someplace secluded where we can work in peace.”

  “Will you be doing a lot of damage?” Gold Braid asked, wrinkling his wet face in disgust.

  Mother stared him down haughtily. “We’re earth witches. We heal the earth, not hurt it.”

  The colonel gritted his teeth. “You can use the Regent’s private beach if you swear you won’t wreck it.”

  Mother thought about it for a moment as the colonel’s face reddened with wrath. Just before he burst like an overripe tomato thrown against a wall, she said, “I think that will do admirably. For a start. Please show us the way.”

  “What? In the rain?” Gold Braid goggled at her as if she were out of her mind.

  Logan lifted his head and stared out at the pewter-gray sky. The torrential downpour tapered off into a spattering of raindrops before halting entirely.

  The colonel gave him a horrified look and took a prudent step back. “Witches,” he muttered. “Othala curse them all.”

  Several of the guards swiveled their heads to stare at him.

  “Pay attention to your duties!” he bellowed. “One of you take the carriage and bring the witches to the Regent’s beach.”

  Captain Clark stepped smartly out of formation. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  Beside me, Mother reached out and took tight hold of my hand. Her palm was cold and wet against mine, but I still took comfort from her touch.

  “Mind if I tag along?” Logan asked as Mother and I moved, hand in hand, for the stairs.

  “Please do,” Mother said before I could answer.

  Logan fell in behind and followed us toward the windowless carriage waiting outside the gates.

  A mournful wind gusted around us as we walked, making me feel both cold and, yet, somehow determined. I had no idea what Mother intended us to do on the Regent’s private beach, but whatever it was, I would do it and do it well. For my father. For Logan’s sister. To spit in the Lord Regent’s eye. So help me, Othala.

  Chapter 8

  By the time the carriage let us out and we’d made our way down the rock staircase leading to the Regent’s private beach, the downpour had returned. The wind sent the rain lashing into our faces. Mother’s dress turned transparent, showing her bra and panties as the sodden fabric clung to her skin.

  Captain Clark stumbled over a rock and cursed. Maybe now he’d keep his eyes on the path and not on my mother’s body. I knew men would be men and mother was a beautiful woman, but I had to push down irritation as I followed him.

  My white summer dress was soaked through too, showcasing my body and the Lady Regent’s underthings, and when Logan tripped behind me, swearing, I wrapped my arms around myself in the vain attempt to cover up. The fact Logan had a view of my backside, which I couldn’t cover up with my arms, only made me feel more exposed.

  “Captain Clark.” I stopped walking when we reached the sand. He and Mother turned to regard me. “Give my mother your jacket and stop ogling her.”

  Logan stifled a laugh behind me, and I whipped around, my hair clinging to my wet cheeks. “And if your shirt wasn’t white and see-through, you’d be giving it to me. You men are pigs.”

  “You’ve turned her into a prude bringing her up in a middle-class non-magical neighborhood, Helena,” Logan called over the crash of the waves. “Nice job.”

  “What? Do witches strut around naked in the slums of Seawall South?” Incensed, I considered picking up a rock and pitching it at Logan
’s groin. He wouldn’t be able to make snarky comments if he were writhing in agony on the sand.

  Most of Logan’s amusement faded. He wiped rain from his face and shook out his wet hands as if that would dry them. “Contrary to what people in Seawall North and Regents Row believe, we don’t live in slums. We take care of our neighborhoods and the people who live there. We’re a community, not in competition with each other. Nobody cares who has the nicest roses or the biggest wraparound porch. And we wear clothes, but we’re not puritanical prigs about our bodies.

  “I can’t speak for the captain, but I wasn’t ogling. I was appreciating. And don’t tell me you haven’t stared at me, you little hypocrite, because I’ve seen you do it. Felt you. Watched how I’ve affected you.”

  Mortification burned like fire. Especially since he had a valid point. Even now as he lectured me, making me feel like a braying ass, I couldn’t help admire the way his shirt clung to his sculpted abs. He had a lean, swimmer’s body, which was apropos for a sea witch. His wicked blue eyes flashed with anger, and rain hammered down harder than ever, hurting me.

  “Shut up.” I had no defense against him, and I wished I’d kept my stupid mouth closed.

  He stared at me, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s all the comeback you’ve got? Othala, you can’t fight either. What can you do?”

  I scowled. “Maybe I don’t see the point of fighting when someone’s right. I am a hypocrite. So what. You’re a handsome man. I do look at you. But at least I don’t make it rain to make your clothes see-through!”

  Logan threw back his head and howled laughter. “I’m not making it rain, you crazy earth witch! It’s the Reutterance. It’s going to rain until we recast the protection spell.”

  “You made it rain back at the mansion! Because you were angry at the Lord Regent. And you made it stop too. Even that awful Colonel Murgatroyd knew you did it, and he’s not even a witch. So don’t tell me you aren’t making it rain now so you can see my underwear.”

  Logan nearly strangled to death laughing at me. Captain Clark’s red face and downcast eyes attested to his acute embarrassment, as if he thought I were making a fool of myself. Mother sighed in impatience, frowning equally in Logan’s direction and mine. Hot mortification coursed through my body, making me wish I was anywhere in the world but here. Even deep into ravager territory. Being ripped apart by monsters seemed preferable to this humiliation.

  “Curse all of you!” I screamed, and half the staircase leading to the seawall shuddered and crumbled into jagged pieces that crashed into a pile on the rocky beach.

  Everyone gaped in shock.

  “So much for not wrecking the place,” Logan said, and Captain Clark sniggered, which set Mother giggling. Logan held his stomach and staggered around, hysterical laughter bubbling over his lips.

  I stared at the pile of broken staircase in horror. How was this funny? I could not find the humor in the fact my lack of control had wrecked the Lord Regent’s staircase. Most of the staircases along the coastline were in crumbled ruins. What if we had to trek miles to find one we could use to get back up to the seawall?

  I staggered to the pile, my legs trembling. Anxiety thrummed through my body until I felt like a giant tuning fork. I collapsed against the stone, burying my face in my hands. I would never figure out how to control my magic. Anger and fear were the only pathways to it, both emotions easy to let spiral out of control.

  “It’s not fair,” I whispered when Logan leaned against the rubble beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. He’d stopped laughing thankfully.

  “No,” he agreed. “But it is what it is.”

  “Why did you fight when the guards came for you after you were marked by Othala?” I let my hands drop so I could look at his face. “If you believe things are what they are, and you know you have the control over your power to perform the Reutterance spell, why did you fight?”

  “Who said I fought?” Logan bent his head. Rainwater dripped from his hair onto the sand.

  “Hmm,” I said, laughing under my breath. “No one actually. I assumed from something the Lord Regent said when I was first brought in.”

  “I turned myself in,” Logan said. “I was working in the shipyard when the lightning struck me. I saw the mark and rushed to the guard station. They contacted Regiment Thirteen.” His lips thinned bitterly. “Those bastards arrived all pomp and circumstance, and I walked up to Murgatroyd, and showed him my mark. You know what that asshole did?”

  “Cut off your hair?” I guessed.

  Logan let out a grim laugh. “Yeah. He took one look at me and sneered that no sea-cursed male witch would ever set foot in Moody Mansion with hair down his back. He ordered two guards to hold me down and sawed off my hair with his sword, swearing at me the whole time like I was filth beneath his feet.”

  I rubbed at my aching eyes only making them hurt more.

  “I did the buzz cut myself after I caught sight of myself in the mirror.” Logan drew a self-conscious hand through his hair.

  “When they were chopping off your hair, you made it rain, didn’t you?” I asked.

  Logan shook his head. “Nah. I fucking made it hail. Nailed those bastards so hard they bled. Called the waves in too. Nearly drowned us all, and the only thing that stopped me was the thought I would doom Galveteen because of my damned pride.”

  “I was at the farmers market. Buying flowers for my mother. We have a garden in the backyard, but we don’t grow sunflowers anymore, and they’re her favorites,” I said, aware that Logan was listening intently even though he wasn’t looking at me.

  Mother and Captain Clark approached to listen too. Mother’s bittersweet expression hurt my heart.

  “The neighbors were jealous of my garden,” Mother said. “I used to sneak out in the middle of the night and use earth magic to make the flowers grow tall and bloom so vibrantly they didn’t seem like real colors. I never fit in with the neighborhood. Everyone talked about me behind my back. I never got invited to tea or coffee more than once. They never liked me. I thought if they couldn’t gossip about how stuck up they thought I was because my garden was better than theirs, maybe they’d accept me. So I didn’t use my magic anymore on the garden. It became just another household chore. When the sunflowers died, I never replanted them.”

  “I saw the sunflowers at the market, and I wanted you to have them,” I told her. “The lightning struck me as I was holding out my hand to pay the vendor. It sent me into convulsions I couldn’t control. I didn’t know what happened at first. Kelly was there, buying flowers too. We were going to go for coffee. Instead she started screaming and calling me a witch. She saw the mark of Othala and started shrieking I was sea cursed and tried to get away from me. Everyone did. Someone said to call the guards, and I thought I would be arrested. So I ran. I tried to get back home to you with this ridiculous thought you could protect me.”

  She shrank away from my accusing glare.

  “You taught me that witches were bad. Sub-human. Fit for menial labor. Beneath us. Only all along you were one of them, and so was I.”

  “You don’t understand, Dem,” she whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “How?” I cried. “How could pretending we weren’t who we were be the right thing? Are you ashamed of being a witch? I know I am. I don’t want to be. I want to be proud of it like Logan is, but I feel so awful. Guilty. Like I’m less than I was. And broken too because I can’t control my magic.” I stabbed a finger in her direction. “And that’s your fault. Because you never told me what I was. Logan says you even put a spell on me so I couldn’t use my powers.”

  “No!” Mother burst out. “No one can cast a spell like that. I simply made you forget you could do certain things.”

  “Like make the rocks dance?” I asked.

  She flushed bright scarlet. “You remember that now?”

  “I guess I broke your spell just like I broke the protection spells on the palm trees outside Moody Mansion.�
� My voice shook. “I made the earth shake in front of our house yesterday, and I wrecked the stairs leading down here, only I have no clue how I did it. I don’t even feel anything when I do it. The only reason I think I did it is because people keep telling me I did. Shouldn’t I feel something? Some surge of power or a tiny glimmer of awareness I’m doing something outside myself?”

  “Yes,” Mother said, moving closer so she could stand on my other side. Her shoulder touched mine. “Just as you feel yourself reaching out to touch this stone with your hand, you should feel yourself reaching out to touch it with your magic. There are a lot of unconscious actions you perform when you reach out your hand, things you aren’t aware of, like nerve endings responding to signals your brain sends out. Magic’s like that too. Your brain sends out signals to your magic receptors, and they react.”

  Mother dug her toe in the wet sand. “You’re doing it unconsciously now. I’ve got to show you how to make a conscious connection to your magic. You used to be able to do it. You did it with the stones in the backyard, and you were only three years old.”

  I stared at the shallow imprint of her toe in the sand. “I think I did it once again last year. After Amanda’s shower.”

  “Tell me,” she urged, nudging me with her shoulder.

  I shut my eyes and called up the memory, shuddering because I never allowed myself to think too long about that day.

  “Most everyone had left after Amanda’s bridal shower. Kelly and I stayed. Remember? We were all going to get ready to go out dancing that night together? I brought my clothes. I was going to stay over at Amanda’s because I knew I’d drink, and Father hates the idea of me drinking.”

  “I remember,” Mother whispered. She brushed the back of her hand against my cheek. “You came home early. Before sunset even. Said you had a headache. Too much wine.”

  “I had a headache, all right, but it wasn’t the wine.” My mouth twisted, and I ground down hard against the tears burning my eyes. Better to tell this story and stop it festering inside me. Maybe free of the poison of that memory, I could then connect with my magic. I had to try.