There was definitely a presence in here. Something powerful and alive that my angel senses picked up amongst the salt spray, kelp beads, speckles of sunlight, and shadows.
Realization struck me like a bolt of electricity. It was the essence in that cave at Natural Bridges; it was what emerged within me as I floated on the water, watching the birds.
It was me—my Source.
Whipping my face forward, I righted myself, digging my toes into the wooden surface of my borrowed board.
The circular opening ahead grew smaller and smaller, closing in as the wave curled in on itself. I didn’t want this moment to end. And I couldn’t believe it took me this long to understand that it didn’t have to. I was an angel of water. I grinned, knowing Mau would chide me for that, because she was right—I was the Angel of Water.
Hands at my sides, I thrust them forward, pushing against air and calling on that thrum in my veins. The barrel stretched with the motion. I felt it move and shimmer, tremble and twirl, as if it were an extension of my soul.
I wanted to keep going forever. But there was a bluff up ahead, my arms were tired, and my brain was starting to sputter. Every thought, every muscle not keeping me functioning at the most basic level was dedicated to channeling my power.
Just as happy exhaustion tugged on my knees and filled my head with lightness, I shut that part of me down, like a light switching off, and the barrel slowly tapered out.
Riding what was left of the wave all the way in, I hopped off in the shallows.
The ocean lapped at the shoreline, as if it’d been nothing other than lazy and calm, no sign of the angry, spitting break or the undertow.
Cheeks sore from the chafe of the wind, the rub of the salt, and the cheesy smile that was vying for a permanent spot on my face, I trudged up the steep bank to a sprawled-out woven blanket the two elves were lying on.
Hearing my footsteps, Freyja sat up. “Have fun?”
Pretty sure that was obvious. Tingles flooded my body as I laid my board on the hot black sand. I set my hands on my hips and a satisfied exhale left my lips.
“I cannot wait to do that again,” I confessed.
She squinted. “Those were some interesting moves out there.”
Gunnar crossed his hands above his head to block the sun. “Where’d you learn those?”
“My dad.” A twinge of panic crept into my voice, but I gulped it down.
With the clouds, the rocks, the distance to the shore, there’s no way they saw what I just did—no way. Again, they were just being nice, and I was just being paranoid.
Freyja tilted her head. “Pretty impressive.”
I bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back the dopey grin.
Gunnar reached into a tote bag. “Need a towel?”
Nodding, I scooped the fabric from his hands and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“Should we go?” Freyja suggested.
“Yeah.” Gunnar’s eyes darted to hers.
So many things passed between them in that tick of silence. That wasn’t weird. Wasn’t weird at all.
“Perfect,” Freyja said, her tone gravelly and low. “I’m sure your great aunt is going to be so excited to see you, River.”
Nothing. there was absolutely nothing out here.
Just bumpy highways, green hills, rocks covered in lichen. Every so often, we’d pass a red-steepled church, and the occasional guesthouse. Wild horses sprang up every few miles in shaggy clusters.
Gunnar leaned over the center console. “Assuming she doesn’t run a B and B?”
“Not that I know of,” I muttered, cursing myself for such a ridiculous excuse.
