Reality is beginning to set in. She might not appear. I might really lose my Moby.
Hot tears spring to my eyes and I try one last time.
“Sea wit—”
A green glow spreads beneath the water, right below my jet ski.
Followed by a blast. Water plumes everywhere and my jet ski topples, sending me pinwheeling into the ocean. I sink down into the icy murk, though I’m only there for a few seconds before a great being rises beneath me, lifting me to the surface on his mighty back.
Moby.
I gasp for air once I surface, my cheek pressed to his sleek, rubbery flesh. The entire length of him vibrates and rumbles, making distressed sounds, and I rub his flank in circles, letting him know that I’m all right.
For now.
Because we’re not alone.
There is a creature elevating from the ocean’s choppy surface, illuminated by that sickly green glow. When the figure comes into view, I blink several times, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Eyes like an owl, a body like a giant sea horse. Hair of seaweed.
No mouth.
No nose.
This thing is straight out of a nightmare.
“A-are you the sea witch?” I ask, shaking uncontrollably.
“I am.” Her response comes from all around me. Is she projecting her voice from her mind? “You must be the reason Moby left us for the humans.Temporarily, of course,” she finishes with a sinister chuckle.
I want to cower against Moby’s back, but I force myself to sit up. Lift my chin, as if I’m the brave girl Moby believes me to be.Maybe I am? After all, I conquered my fear of jet skiing today. I’ve stood up to my mother. Now, I’m taking on a sea witch. “Please. Make him human again. Allow him to stay with me. Without a time limit.Please.I’m begging you.”
“Why would I do that?”
My throat stings, along with my eyes. “Because I love him so much.”
Even though she doesn’t have a mouth, I can tell she’s smirking. “If you’d told him that before he shifted back to a whale, he could have been yours as a human forever. You would have ended the Blight.”
Beneath me, Moby groans, long and low. A plea.
I’m too stunned to react, though, my stomach filling with lead. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper, tears escaping. “I’ve wanted to say it all day. I thought it was too soon.”
“Unfortunately, you only get one chance,” laughs the sea witch.
Frustration claws at my chest. “Why do you laugh at our misery?”
“Should I care about your misery, simply because you’repretty?” asks the sea witch, her head ticking left in an inhuman movement. “No one cares about mine.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I whisper, wondering about her life. How she came to be regarded as a witch. Did she crave the fear of others or was inspiring fear her only choice?
My leg is starting to ache from being in the same position so long. Wincing, I roll onto my side and stretch it out, sighing in relief when the muscles uncramp.
“What is that?” the sea witch demands to know, her long bony finger extending to point at my pattern of scars.
“I had an accident a few years ago,” I explain.
She rolls her eyes. “Clearly, but what is the ink on top?”
“Oh, it’s a tattoo. I started a business called Beautiful Scars for people who have scars like mine. I design tattoos for their specific scars to turn them into something extra beautiful.”
