The Sea Cursed floated in a charmed circle made of rope Logan and I threw overboard. Enchanting the rope had caused perspiration to pop out on Logan’s forehead. Sweat and water dripped down his face. In contrast I was sucked dry of moisture. My skin radiated heat, and although I didn’t feel ill, my temperature had to have spiked into what would be a danger zone for anyone other than a witch. The boat rocked in the center of the circle without being affected by waves or the current. Magic.
Twilight claimed the sky, turning every object a dull gray as if the color had been leached out of everything, and we were inside one of the Before Times black-and-white movies. Logan draped the talisman over my head.
“The stronger witch wears this,” I protested through numb lips.
A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “And that would be you. Don’t argue. Help me. I’m going to draw down the lightning, and we’re going to get really, really wet.”
“I’ll steam.” A nervous giggle escaped my throat.
“And I might melt.” He winked at me, his face glistening with sweat. “Do you know what you need to do?”
“Find the power. The magic. So we can load the lightning with it.”
Logan took me by the shoulders, his finger digging into my bare skin, but I barely registered the pain. His eyes, strangely pewter in the growing dusk, bored into mine as if taking my measure.
“Do you know how?”
I wet my lips, thinking back to the day before when I’d envisioned it as a pit of crackling, eternal fire. “I think so.”
He gave me a shake, making me gasp and lose my balance. If he hadn’t been holding onto me, I would have crashed to the deck.
“You can’t just think so. You have to know so,” he grated.
In my head, I envisioned that pit of fire, saw it whirling and sparking, leaping into the darkness of the unknown surrounding it.
Logan cried out and stumbled away from me, shaking his hands. Horrified, I watched blisters form and pop on his palms.
“Your eyes are like flames,” he whispered, staring at me as he wiped his hands on his pants, wincing as the raw blisters touched fabric.
“Do your part, sea witch.” When I spoke, a wall of heat billowed from my throat, deepening my voice until it was unrecognizable. It writhed with hot power.
Logan gaped at me for a long moment. “I told you you were stronger,” he muttered. Then with an abruptness that tore the breath from my lungs, he threw back his head and raised his arms, his hands reaching for the sky.
“I summon the lightning, the electric spark that illuminates the sky. On the wind I send my voice so it echoes across the heavens, heavy as thunder, light as rain!”
Thunder rumbled around us and the Sea Cursed tossed on white-capped waves but remained within the enchanted circle. Rain spat down, drenching us in seconds. Steam rose from my body, creating a wreath of smoke around me. I braced my legs on the deck and held out my arms, palms down, seeking out the magic fire. It was beneath us. From the earth far beneath the sea floor.
The ocean bubbled and steamed, a giant cauldron, and we floated within it.
“Fifty years from now, seek out the two most powerful witches on Galveteen. One male, one female, one earth witch, one sea witch!” I shouted. “Bestow them with the magic needed to cast the spell of Reutterance. Send them the power through the mark of Othala!”
“Send them the power through a bolt of lightning!” Logan roared. Two jagged streaks of lightning zigzagged down from the sky to pierce the frothing ocean.
Heat and unbearable power clashed. A wall of silence crushed down upon me and rendered me deaf. Blackness filled my eyes, blinding me. It was as if I’d been trapped beneath a thick, glass bowl, shutting off my senses one by one.
I screamed, but I heard nothing, I simply felt my vocal cords shattering with the force of my shriek.
The pressure built up and up in my head, threatening to blow it apart. I clapped my hands to either side of my skull, thinking, It’s my magic. My extra magic. Trying to join with the rest. Seeking to go back. I can’t let it go. I mustn’t let it escape. I need it to cast the spell of Reutterance. Othala, make it stop! Make this stop!
I fell, weeping, to the deck. I couldn’t feel the tears on my face or hear myself sobbing. Had I lost everything? Had I ceased to exist?
“Dem. Dem!” Logan’s voice, urgent with need, penetrated the thick wall of nothing enveloping me. His breath fluttered into my ear. His heart raced against mine. I opened my eyes to find myself in his arms. Rain pounded down upon us creating a staccato beat upon the deck.
“Logan?” I touched his wet face and scraped my fingers along the rough stubble of his jaw, felt the muscles of his cheek move beneath my fingertips as he smiled.
“That’s it for that part,” he whispered, half laughing, half sobbing into my ear.
“But the hard stuff is still left.”
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Gingerly, I moved my arms and legs. Nothing hurt. Holding my breath, I tested my link with the earth, afraid I would find it narrowed and weak, all my extra magic drained away. But it proved strong. It crackled with vitality. If anything, it seemed more powerful than ever.
We helped each other to stand, clinging together, weak as newborn kittens. Somehow we still floated in the magical circle and it remained unbroken. The sea, smooth as black glass, spread beneath us with hardly a ripple disturbing the surface.
Through the pelting rain I could discern the lights of Galveteen Island. Hydroelectricity generated by the sea witches was used by everyone. We were so close to shore if not for the rain and wispy fog, I might have glimpsed the seawall.
For a moment, homesickness overwhelmed me – so intense and vicious it clawed a hole in my heart, and I struggled to breathe. I would never be closer to home than this ever again. Once Galveteen was returned to the middle of the gulf, Logan and I would sail far away. I’d never hear Mother’s laugh again, or feel the sand squish between my toes. Listen to the sea breeze rattle the palm fronds or lie still on the earth. I’d forever float on a wooden boat on a vast sea.
But I’d have Logan. And that, coupled with the knowledge that everyone on the island was safe, would see me through.
The talisman dragged at the chain around my throat. Although it hadn’t grown in diameter, it had increased in weight. My neck muscles ached under the strain of keeping my head upright.
I held it between my palms, easing the pull against my neck. Logan whispered to the wind, asking it to remember to grow big in fifty years and blow the rain clouds over Galveteen. He talked to the clouds and the slashing rain, telling them they had a job to do to protect the witches of Galveteen. He spoke to the sea, instructing it not to allow the fishing fleet out of the harbor. Drive them back and keep them safe. In fifty years the island would drift close to land masses ravagers controlled. The ships would give ravagers access to the people, and witches would die if that happened. The sea could hold the fleet back if it wanted, and it would please Logan if no ship sailed from Galveteen harbor.
The talisman thrummed against my skin, heating again, but somehow not burning me. I held my breath, lending Logan all my earth magic as he persuaded the elements to warn and protect the future inhabitants of Galveteen.
The deepening dusk rendered Logan so beautiful. The wind whipped his shirt, exposing his muscled chest, molding itself to the corded muscles of his arms. His eyes glowed spectral blue, the color of a mythical ocean or a fairytale sky. My heart swelled with pride watching him commune with his elements. The rain turned soft, caressing our upturned faces. Clouds massed and scattered above us while the sea made choppy waves that bounced playfully off the hull again and again.
Then, in the hush between dusk and night, everything stilled. The rain ceased, the clouds parted to admit the cold light of the moon, and the sea returned to shimmering glass.
Logan held out his arms and I stepped within them gratefully – our own, small magical circle.
&
nbsp; “I’ll need the talisman. You stand behind me.” Logan broke apart from me with reluctant slowness and held out his hand, palm up.
I pulled the chain over my head, struggling to keep from dropping the heavy talisman. He was supposed to throw it overboard, and I wondered if he’d have the strength to pitch over the railing.
“Both hands,” I whispered. “It’s heavy.”
He sucked in his breath before extending his other hand. With effort, I gave him the talisman, expecting it to burn his hands when he touched it.
Instead, water gushed through the cracks between Logan’s fingers. The talisman floated just above his palms, somehow lighter than air. This was the difference between earth and sea magic.
I placed myself behind him, winding my arms around his waist, bracing my chin on his shoulder. I fixed my gaze on the lights of Galveteen, gathering my power.
Logan took another deep breath, his chest expanding, as he drew back his arm, the talisman clutched in his hand.
“For Galveteen,” he said solemnly.
“For Galveteen,” I echoed.
He threw the talisman, and it scattered water droplets as it revolved over and over, spinning in the moonlight, the chain trailing after it as it flew over the railing. I held my breath, suspended with anxiety, until I heard a small, but significant splash.
For a terrible moment I believed we’d done something wrong, and nothing would happen. Until it did.
The Sea Cursed bucked and rolled beneath us, but I held us steady. The boat might have been on the water, but it was made of wood, and wood was of the earth.
Something crashed from the galley. A mug of coffee I’d left on the table. The sea within the circle danced, the waves growing higher and higher. Something beneath the surface detonated and a bubble ring burst up around us, extending out so far and so fast, the sight tore my breath away.
“We’re bringing Galveteen into the circle,” Logan marveled, trembling within my arms. “Dem. We’re really doing this. We’re really going to save everyone.”
Tears pricked my eyes. He’d been so confident while I’d wavered between despair and certainty. I knew he’d been scared to die, but never that he’d been afraid we might fail.
The bubbles popped and reformed, sending sprays of mist into the wind. The moon had sharpened until it shone almost bright as day. I could see everything – including Galveteen. The storm clouds had ripped apart and the rain had relented. A clear night over the island the like they hadn’t seen in weeks. Those people who were still awake would come out of the houses now, staring up at the sky, bracing themselves. It was the Reutterance.
The talisman, grown huge, emerged from within the circle. Poised halfway between Galveteen and the boat, the copper coin expanded with every revolution it took. Now as big as the Sea Cursed, two seconds later it was twenty times larger, spinning so fast it dizzied me.
The gap between the boat and talisman shrank as we were pulled toward it. Beyond, Galveteen moved too, guided by me.
Gritting my teeth, I struggled to keep from flying apart. Every muscle pulled tight, each breath an agony. Somehow I was fused to Galveteen. No grain of sand existed that was too small for me to feel inside me. All the beaches, and cobblestones roads, every building, all the trees and the rocks. We were as one. I kept the island from ripping apart as it raced toward the spinning talisman, now a hundred times bigger than the Sea Cursed and still growing.
The copper faded, became translucent. I could see Galveteen, blurry and indistinct through the talisman.
Logan’s body, stiff as stone, anchored me. He controlled the sea as it bore the island – and us – toward the talisman. No tidal waves, no cross current. Together we kept Galveteen from being destroyed as it moved.
The talisman, so wide now that all of Galveteen could pass through it, loomed close. It spat out a radiant heat combined with cold sea spray, both of which soaked into us as we approached.
Dragging the island a thousand miles out to sea would have taken weeks of unbroken concentration, and, witch or not, I was only human. We needed something that would transfer Galveteen in a blink of an eye. The talisman-turned-portal would accomplish that.
Logan shuddered, rivulets of sweat ran down his body, drenching him. My heated body repelled the water, leaving me dry as a husk. Logan was tiring, and truth be told, so was I. My limbs felt weighted with steel, and my feet, once so steady it was as if they’d sent roots down into the wooden deck, now threatened to slip from beneath me. We couldn’t fall. We’d break our focus, and the spell would short out. Without the talisman, we’d never be able to attempt the spell again.
Where had the Regent gotten the coin? From a stash left by the original Thirteen? Or would any coin do? Thirteen. She’d had another name too, one no one remembered anymore. Just like in fifty years nobody would remember Demetria Stone and Logan Reed had been the witches marked by Othala. We’d be one of dozens of sea-cursed witches who had gone before us. Heroes without names.
“Dem!” Logan gasped my name, a plea for more strength. I tightened my grip around his waist, braced myself against his wet back.
Trees. Rocks. Sand. Leaves. Bricks. Stairs. Chairs. Twigs. Leaves. They all moved within me.
The tip of the bow touched the spinning talisman portal, sending out a gush of impossible yellow light that blinded me. Crunching booms deafened me as an unbearable pressure crushed the breath out of my lungs, then smashed me into atoms.
Chapter 21
I needed something cold to quench the thirst raging within me. Something sweet. Lemonade. Orange juice.
“I’m thirsty,” I whined, opening my eyes, then immediately shutting them against the barbarous rays of the sun. No wonder I was parched. That damned sun!
Someone stirred beside me. Logan. We weren’t on a bed. No mattress could be as hard and unyielding as this. The deck! We were on the deck of the Sea Cursed. But why? For how long?
In my mind, I saw the bow of the boat hit the talisman/portal. We’d gone through!
I scrambled to my feet and promptly fell down again. My legs possessed no strength.
“Oh, Othala, I’m so hungry.” Logan moaned, one arm over his eyes as he sprawled across the deck. “Dem. Why am I so hungry?”
“Food? I’d kill for a glass of water,” I muttered, crawling toward a cushioned bench so I could look over the railing. Was Galveteen out there still? Had we done it?
“Shit. Now I’m thirsty too. Crap.” Logan swore.
I dragged myself onto the bench. My arms flopped like cooked noodles.
“Othala curse it. I can’t believe how weak I am.” I managed to grasp the railing and haul myself the rest of the way up.
The ship approaching us, sails billowing, sent me scrambling backward and I landed hard on my butt.
“Logan!” The terror in my voice galvanized him. Weak or not, he leaped to his feet and raced toward me. When he saw the ship, he stopped dead and stared.
“The Mary-Angela?” I whispered, filled with dread.
He shaded his eyes with one hand, his black shirt rippling in the breeze.
“No.” He lowered his hand and stared at me, perplexed. “It’s the Selkie. She’s a witch-crewed ship, not a fishing vessel. They’re sailing straight for us.”
“Ravagers?” I could barely force the word past my trembling lips.
“Ravagers can’t steer. No, I’m betting the ship is full of witches, but what they’re doing this far out, I have no idea. Or why they’re alone. Usually they work with fishing vessels, calling the fish and controlling the weather.”
I looked down at my wrinkled dress while combing frantic fingers through my tangled hair. “I hope they have orange juice,” I said. “I would commit coldblooded murder for a glass of orange juice.”
“That’s seriously thirsty.” Logan’s grin couldn’t quite erase the confusion in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll see if I can’t find some in the galley while we wait for them to reach us.”
He was gone before I co
uld ask him why he thought a ship of witches would be approaching us. Maybe they’d been out sailing and had just seen us, but the hollowness in the pit of my stomach felt more like dread than hunger. Somehow I didn’t think this would turn out to be a social call.
The bubble circle had long since burst and the Sea Cursed drifted aimlessly. The ocean seemed to go on forever without breaking. When the witch ship reached hailing distance, Logan patted my shoulder and went to the middle of the boat to catch the rope a man standing on the Selkie tossed to him. Logan made it fast and the larger ship drew alongside.
Logan helped secure a gangway between vessels. I sat on a bench clutching an empty water glass wishing I had more to drink. My heart pounded so hard, my head spun.
A red-haired man in jeans and a pullover sweater crossed from the other ship to ours. It wasn’t until he stood on deck facing me that I recognized him.
“Captain Clark?” Of all the people on Galveteen I’d least expected to see, he was high on the list topped only perhaps by my mother.
“Just John,” he said, a strange expression crossing his face. “I’ve been discharged from the Regent’s army.”
“Discharged?” I repeated.
“It was either accept a dishonorable discharge or be thrown in jail,” he said, a steely glint in his eyes. “I didn’t figure I’d be much good to the witches in jail.”
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude, but what good can you be to them regardless?”
John Clark chuckled, but the darkness in his eyes never faded. “Good question. With Regina dead we’re like chickens with our heads cut off, I suppose.”
He didn’t even flinch when saying her name. Logan and I both winced.
“Anyone else coming aboard?” Logan called to the witch ship. “James?
“No, just the non-magical,” someone, presumably James, shouted back. “He’s got something to say to you both, and he doesn’t need us to deliver his message. Just know we support whatever you decide, Logan.”
Logan asked no questions, whereas I had a million, but before I could formulate even one, James drew back the gangway with Logan’s assistance, telling us he’d bring the Selkie back when we hoisted the sector flag.
Sea Cursed: An Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 13 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 22