The Sea Witch and the Mermaid (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 3)

by B. J. Smash

  The Sea Witch and the Mermaid

  By: B. J. Smash

  © 2014 B.J. Smash

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design by Melody Simmons of ebookindiecovers.com

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced intro a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Other Books by B.J. Smash

  The Witches of Merribay

  The Witch and the Hellhound

  The Witch and the Bottle of Djinn

  Dedication

  To all lovers of mermaid folklore.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Not many people would know what it is like to be Zinnia Seaforth. Maybe not many would care to know. A few might. A few might want to know why I did the things I did. It has never been an easy life for me, and I don’t want to sound like a martyr, but I’ve decided to tell my side of the story. To explain myself. I do not know how long I will be around. Or what will become of me. It would be a shame to leave without telling my story. Perhaps I am not as bad as they think. Perhaps I am.

  I came to Magella’s boat full of pride, but I remain here living with no pride at all. Everything was taken from me. All spells were erased from my mind—well, all except for a few that remain embedded in my memory. Somehow I kept them, refusing to let them go. When they hypnotized me, and gave me the forgetting tea, I held on. For those spells had defined me. My magic had defined me. And without them, without the knowledge of magic, I am but a shell of what I once was.

  Here is my story. Enter into my world, my mind, and see for yourself what it is like to be me—what it is like to be Zinnia Seaforth. The black sheep.

  Chapter One

  It was a lucky day for me, when Aunt Cora gave me her purple robe. It’s not just your average robe, but a magical, enchanted robe, and she had filled it with the things that I would need while on Magella’s dark and dank boat. Little things that might not matter to the average person because they are taken for granted. Little things, such as a toothbrush and toothpaste. Magella didn’t believe in the use of such things and would just as soon have my teeth rot out like her own.

  Secondly, she gave me a diary so that I could express my thoughts. The great part about the diary? I could stash it in my robe.

  Other things that I found inside the robe were a bottle of mangosteen shampoo and conditioner. The purple liquid had become a luxury to me, and I used it sparingly. I didn’t dare apply it to my hair too often, only during the times that Magella would be gone for a day or two. Otherwise, she may smell it on me and wonder what I was doing and where I was stashing it.

  My aunt even put in a bottle of musk perfume, although I daresay I’ll never use it. I thought it was a generous and thoughtful gesture. That she even had remembered I liked perfume had surprised me.

  The best part about this robe: when things were inside, you could not see them from the outside. No bulges, no creases. The robe was just as smooth as ever. I have no idea how this spell worked, or how the robe was enchanted so, but she told me she had learned this spell long ago from the old forest witch, Izadora. While I would love to know how this spell of enchantment worked, I was just happy that it DID work. Because if Magella ever knew I had these little bits of luxury, she would toss them in the sea. I wasn’t allowed to have anything.

  For I am Zinnia. Zinnia the horrible. And no one cares for me.

  Oftentimes, we’d be on the bay right next to the shore. A few times I saw my own sister looking out at the waters, scanning and searching for me. But she would never find us. We would be invisible.

  I tried waving once, to gain her attention. It was no use. Magella’s cloaking spells were the ultimate. She could cloak like no other. I, myself, knew of a cloaking spell that I had learned from Aggie’s book of spells. But it was a spell that wasn’t meant to last. It would work for a good two to three hours and then you were in the wide open again, vulnerable like a deer on the opening day of hunting season.

  Now as for Magella, she could cloak for days at a time if she wanted to. When she did this, it made me feel even lonelier, and it just added to my misery that no one even cared.

  It is a lonely feeling to not be seen. As if you were dead and gone. A ghost.

  It was how Magella preferred it sometimes. To see others, to spy on them, but not be seen by them. Just think of how many times a person could have been staring out to sea, basking in the sun, enjoying their vacation time on the beach, and all they could see were the waves crashing onto the shore.

  Wrong. Magella might have been there, on that very day, watching you. If you ever lost something on the beach, it was probably her. She liked to steal from humans.

  She is a dark soul, Magella is. A dark soul with a dark mind. But I must add here that there could be an inkling of good inside her; it’s just so far buried that one would have to search for a very long time.

  One night at supper she gave me seconds. She could tell that I was starving, and while her cooking is not good at all, it tasted good on that night. I mostly attend to the cooking, and I can cook most excellently. I learned this from working at my aunts’ café for a short time. Also, my father had taught me some cooking skills. My father. How I missed him. But that is neither here nor there. How could he care for such a soul as mine?

  Anyway, I’m usually only allowed one serving at mealtime, but her voice grew softer than usual and she offered me more. It was quite a shock to be treated with a touch of mercy.

  Early on, she had forced me to take her symbol. She tattooed the upside-down triangle on my inner right ankle, and then she proceeded to cast a spell over it. This spell was so that I could breathe underwater when I was fetching her fish or running certain errands. It hardly worked though, this spell. I could breathe underwater sufficient to live, but when on land or boat again I had to cough the saltwater out of my lungs. Taking my first breaths of air again it burned like fire, and so I lived with this pain most of the time. This lingering pain only subsided after a few days, but by then I’d be forced back into the water again.

  And so it hasn’t been easy living here with Magella. But nothing has ever been easy for me.

  The sky is overcast today, as it always is around Magella’s boat. Thick, dark clouds surrounded us wherever we went. But tomorrow…tomorrow I would get to go home. For the first time in my twenty-eight days of being prisoner here. Plus, I haven’t been home for a long, long time before this.

  What will they think of me? Will they think the worst of me? They always have, and it won’t hav
e changed. It’s a real wonder why they want me to come home at all. Always the black sheep—that was me. To be honest, I couldn’t stand looking at my sister anymore, with her beautiful, shiny, golden hair that shimmered radiantly in the sun.

  Who knew what she thought of me? She had to hate me. I am sure of it. Plus, she thinks that I am stupid. But oh, I am not stupid. And she has no idea what I can be capable of. And yet, I ask myself…what am I capable of?

  I had to laugh as I slammed my diary shut. Time to get some shut-eye. And as I cuddled up to my one pillow made from goose feathers, I felt like crying. I tamped down that feeling right and quick. For I, Zinnia Seaforth, did not feel emotion. Well, to be honest, I did feel something somewhere, but I would never let anyone know it. I even tried to hide my feelings from myself. I would just not admit to them. No way. The weak are vulnerable.

  When I awoke, the air had a chill to it. The lone black blanket that Magella had given me barely kept me warm. It was a rough wool that seemed to always be damp.

  Peeking out around the black tarp that hung over me at an angle, I saw the sun was shining on the bay as the seagulls dotted the sky. Their loud screeching cries carried over the breeze and to the boat.

  Dropping the tarp, I looked at my surroundings. How was I supposed to live like this for eleven more months? I had a twin futon mattress that was rather slim and most uncomfortable, and one single lantern that used kerosene that stung my nose. And she metered out the kerosene to make sure that I wouldn’t stay up too late.

  I once knew of a spell that would keep that lantern kicking for days, but I had forgotten it when they took Aggie’s book of spells from me and erased my memory with the tea. Once parted from the book, I fell into a deep depression.

  I will tell you this: some of those spells packed more power than a bomb. And they were addicting. Like opening a present every morning. Or having an advent calendar, and each day you get to open the window and take out a piece of candy. But alas, the book is gone, and so is the memory of most spells.

  I must move on. Move on from the desire to own that book.

  At least I wouldn’t have to go fishing this morning. It was easy, Magella claimed. But it wasn’t easy. I would throw the magic net out, it would wrap itself around the fish and come shooting back to me. But sometimes the fish were faster and they’d escape. The magic net was lacking, too. It was flawed, and sometimes I’d spend hours under the water, getting her majesty’s fish.

  It didn’t have much power and it was only good for a few tosses before it turned into a regular old non-magical net. She refused to fix it, and I had to believe she had meant for it to be this way.

  I arose, my neck sore from using the too soft pillow. To top it off, I had to be allergic to the blasted thing. Grabbing a tissue, I blew my nose to alleviate the snot buildup. I would have to take the pillow from my old room at Gran’s. Hopefully, Magella would allow me to bring it on board.

  I got up to see that the bay was sunny, and yet around the houseboat remained the dark clouds. I opened the door to go below deck, and made my way down the stairs to the bathroom. I was allowed to use the bathroom below deck, as Magella had her own. And amazingly, there were plenty of extra rooms down here too, but Magella insisted that I live above deck until I proved myself worthy of living below deck, and only then would she “add” a room for me.

  The old woman could hold a grudge—that much was certain.

  She had everything she wanted, as far as the finer things in life went. Though the boat appeared to be midsized on the outside, she had her own palace below deck. A hot tub that belonged in the ritziest hotel in the world, porcelain sinks with pure gold faucets inlaid with sapphires. Even the floor was inlaid with gold for her to stand on when she exited her hot tub. Although she hardly bathed, trust me. She just liked possessing the finer things in life. Magella enjoyed her wealth but she never used it to bring happiness to anyone but herself.

  All she had to do to aquire these material things was use her magic. With a twitch of the nose, a wave of the hand, a stomp of the foot, or a snap of the fingers, she could have anything. Anything material. But, oh, how she coveted her sister Izadora’s abilities. So jealous was she, that she could never fully be satisfied with her own conjuring’s. No way. She wanted whatever Izadora had. And that, my friend, is more POWER.

  I took care of my ablutions and fixed my hair as best as I could. The luster had faded since I’d left the presence of the Fae and come to this boat, and yet, it was still soft and sheen. I had to admit I was still beautiful—even without the glamour spells of the Fae. Who needed them?

  I let out a long breath. I hated to admit it, but I did. I needed them. Without them, I was nothing. My life was meaningless.

  In retrospect, I remembered the days of being a Fae. Oh my. They had no need to bathe, as they were always clean. And yet sometimes we’d go to the waterfalls, and with only a thought the water was warm as a baby’s bath. Around them, the water was heated to just the right temperature for the most perfect soaking experience. It was something that they did purely for fun.

  Oh, the joy I felt in their presence. Twirling, I lifted my arms and pretended I was at one of their magnificent balls, in a stunning gown. In my mind, I was almost there with them, flowing from one handsome man to the next, dancing, eating their scrumptious tarts and pies—and never gaining an ounce of weight. The ballrooms were always exquisite and luxurious, with crystal chandeliers and plush red velvety seats, and polished hardwood floors. And the ever-present scent of something similar to sandalwood, but not quite sandalwood.

  As my mind drifted to days gone by, and the reminiscing of what had once been, a loud bang sounded on the door.

  “Get me my breakfast,” the old witch said. Her voice grated at my nerves. She was a raspy old windbag who sounded as if she had smoked a cigarette factory’s worth of cigarettes in her lifetime.

  “Coming,” I called out.

  “From the sea,” she added.

  “What?” My voice was filled with complaint, which didn’t fare well with her. Something that I had learned with Magella: keep your voice steady. At all times.

  “You dare whine at me?” her voice thundered through the bathroom door. “You heard me. If you don’t hurry it up, you’ll be getting me tomorrow’s breakfast while you’re down there.”

  I rechecked myself, forcing myself to sound more accommodating, and said, “Yes, Magella. I’ll hurry.”

  The old witch continued to force me to be humble. I hated her for that. I had never been one to be humble. Just ask my sister Ivy. She would tell you straight up that I could be quite a haughty brat. It was only because I liked things done a certain way. Must I admit it? Yes, I liked things done my way.

  But there was nothing I could do about it. I would be forced to humiliation by this old witch every single time. For she out powered me greatly.

  I didn’t bother to do anything else to my hair; it was just going to get wet anyway. Filled with salty water and fish smells. I changed into my fishing clothes: a smelly old T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts.

  On deck, I fidgeted with the tangled net. She wouldn’t bother to help me, although she could have the snarls out with a snap of the fingers. Instead she went below deck to have her tea in her majesty’s mother of pearl kitchen. The whole thing—the cabinets, the countertops, the plates, saucers and cups—were either decorated with pearls, or made of mother-of-pearl.

  Finally, after a good twenty minutes, the netting was ready. I stood on the railing, ready to jump in.

  One could never fully prepare themselves for such a job. Maybe mentally, yes, but physically, no. The water was frigidly cold. It had to be no more than forty degrees. That was way too cold. Believe me, you never get used to it.

  Jumping in, I felt the first blast of cold water shock my senses, but I dove deep down and swam for the bay.

  Taking in my first breath of water was never pleasant, as it burned badly. After a few inhales, it became less bothersome, and I was
good to go. Two good things— the only good things that Magella had done for me—were done only because she wanted to boost my swimming ability. This allowed me to swim faster. Now this may sound strange at first, but she did this by webbing my toes. Only in the water, though. When my feet touched salt water, they resembled a duck’s feet. I didn’t like the looks of it too much, but they surely helped with me with my swimming, making my chores just a bit easier. And she had put drops in my eyes and cast a spell, making it so that I could see just as good underwater as above. I know she only did this out of necessity—that necessity being to get her food on the table. I would not be much good underwater without these two things. And again, that was it. She didn’t care if I was cold. No.

  She only cared that I got the job done.

  Reaching the bay, I leaned upon some slimy rocks and I stuck my head above water to view my aunts’ café. To my surprise, Aunt Clover was just opening the doors for a few customers. I could hear her voice but not her words. I thought I could smell blueberry muffins and COFFEE. It was heaven. Something different than salt and fish!

  I had missed my Aunt Clover. The sassy woman with flair. And to think, today I would get a chance to see her. If Magella actually let me go. I had worried that she would renege on her word of setting me free for three days a month. That is why I behaved myself. That is why I became more humble. No matter how much I hated it.

  Longing to be inside, I stared after her as the café doors were closed with a solid clunk.

  The seagulls screeched above me as they searched for food. The cold waves lapped my face, and, shivering, I was brought back to the task at hand—and I’d better hurry. I didn’t want to give Magella any excuse to delay my respite on land.

  On the bottom of the ocean floor and among the rocks were sea cucumbers. Believe me, these were not Magella’s favorite, but they were easy to get. She preferred tuna or salmon but those were very difficult to catch. Eel and lobster was a bit easier, but she didn’t like those either. The only way she would eat lobster is if the only other option were the gross sea cucumbers. It wasn’t even the flavor of the lobsters that she despised. She knew that in days long past, lobsters were considered a food of the poor. She despised associating herself with anything that could remotely be considered poor. That lobsters were now considered a food for the wealthy mattered not. I tried to always bring at least one salmon or eel – but sometimes all I could grab were the sea cucumbers. Today it was looking like sea cucumbers were to be the only thing on the menu.