The last is another of Griffith and Carl, arms around each other’s shoulders, in robes and tasseled caps.
I remember that day. One of my parents took that picture, and I was standing beside them, eager for the day when we’d all be celebrating my graduation. Back when I had no idea my mom and dad were done with parenting and had their sights set on the road out of town.
Shame scrapes against my nerves when I think of how close I came to not earning my high school diploma, so set on blowing up my life in rebellion of their rejection. I think most of my teachers passed me out of pity.
I’m not that person anymore.My side aches, as if to refute the point.
Griffith and Carl follow behind me, the two of them hovering. I pause at the top of the stairs until the werewolf comes up beside me and points the way to his bedroom.
I step into a room with tall ceilings, soaked in a natural golden glow from two skylights. A plush rug spreads across the dark wood floor, and the centerpiece of the space is a massive bed, covered in thick emerald-green bedding.
That’s where Griffith sleeps every night.
Thoughts of his large body sprawled in that bed invade my mind until all I want is to crawl onto the mattress and sneak under the covers to see if the fabric holds on to his warmth and forest scent.
Stop daydreaming!
I cross through the giant, cozy space and approach the bathroom, where I can already see steam seeping from the doorway. Inside is a massive bathtub. Large enough to fit Griffith with room left for another to join.
I shake my head to get the thought of him naked and soaking in water out of my mind.
Still, at my back, I can sense both him and my brother hovering.
“I don’t know how you guys expected this to go, but this isn’t a group activity. Give me a bit of privacy, huh?” I turn to face the two men who walked into the bathroom with me as if they belonged here.
Their faces each go ruddy, and they shuffle out of the room. I nudge Shrimp to follow them, worried that he might decide to take a drink of the tub water, which would be gross in normal circumstances, but possibly dangerous once I add the potion into the water.
I close the door and lock it for good measure. I don’t expect that either will bust into the bathroom, but Carl’s orbiting has reached new levels ever since he realized my life is at stake. Plus, Griffith has already proven he can’t be trusted, even with a locked door.
Once the water level is only a few inches below the edge of the tub, I shut it off. From my pocket, I pull out a silk pouch that is full of mixed ingredients. The spell work has already been done, and all that’s left is for me to add the concoction to the bath and immerse myself in it.
I pull the drawstring open and upend the contents; petals and powder and herbs with a sparkling sheen all tumble out to infuse the water. The steam takes on a floral, earthy scent. A subtle blue glow starts up once everything is mixed together.
That must be the extra Shelly magic that they spoke over the dried potion.
I inhale a bracing breath, then let the air out slow and try to release all my expectations with the exhale.
“It’s just a bath,” I murmur. “A normal bath. If nothing happens, then that’s fine because it’s just a normal bath.”
I strip off my clothes, shake out my limbs, and take one more look at the peeling witch bandage on my side.
“Just a bath,” I repeat.
Then I step into the tub.
Mor instructed me that I needed to submerge my entire body. Hold my breath and stay under for as long as possible.
As a mermaid, the task isn’t hard. I can hold my breath underwater for hours. Once my head sinks below the surface, there’s an element of euphoria to the submersion. My body aches to shift and change, and luckily, Mor told me taking on my mythical form would help the spell.
Allow the potion to access every part of me.
And so, like releasing a tight fist I’ve been holding for months, I allow my other form to take shape.
The delicious tingle of stretching a muscle shudders through my legs until they aren’t legs anymore, but one long limb. The skin of my hips melts into rich green scales. My tail feels strong and lithe, and I wish I were in Lake Galen, so I could truly stretch myself and enjoy the freedom of swimming with a body that was made for it. But for now, I simply allow the joy of reclaiming my other half to infuse my soul.
After counting to one hundred multiple times over, I finally push myself upward, my head breaching the surface, but only so my collarbone is above the water. Everything else stays underneath. Closing my eyes and leaning back against the side of the porcelain tub, I take mental stock of myself. My tail, myfins, the talons that have grown on my fingers, and the skin that remains on my torso.
There’s no pain.
