Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
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’re pretty?” 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.”
For a split second, the sea witch appears slightly touched, but she quickly recovers, hissing, “You humans and your emphasis on beauty.” She draws out a pause, as if she’s at a loss for what to do next. “There is no way it’s possible to love someone after a single day.”
I stroke Moby’s slick back. “It’s possible if we’re soul mates.”
She is visibly disgusted by that suggestion. Not to mention skeptical. “Fine. I have an idea. Since you claim to love this whale and because beauty is so important to you, would you trade his good looks to have him stay a human forever?”
“Yes,” I breathe, without hesitating. “In a heartbeat. I don’t care what he looks like, I just want…his heart with mine at all times.”
Again, the sea witch doesn’t appear to believe me. “We’ll see about that.”
With a wave of her bony finger, the whale beneath me begins to grow warm. A vibration passes through him, emitting a brief glow before Moby swims beside me in the water—as a human. Just not the one I remember. His head is waxed clean of hair and his face is disfigured, as if it has been burned in a fire.
His grey eyes are the same, though, staring back at me among the scar tissue.
They watch me steadily, in trepidation of my reaction.
But there is only one reaction possible. Joy.
Crying out, I throw myself into his arms, sobbing in relief when his embrace closes around me and squeezes. “My little human,” he says thickly. “You really do love me.”
“Of course, I do. I love you so much,” I wheeze, hardly able to believe my luck.
I cling to Moby as he swims us to the jet ski, his hands grasping me around the waist and settling me onto the seat. As he’s climbing up behind me, holding me tightly to heat me, I focus on the sea witch through a veil of tears. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She’s silent for a prolonged beat. “It really is true love,” she marvels. “I didn’t think such a thing existed.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it was a pleasure to prove you wrong.”
A laugh nearly bubbles out of her.
She traps it at the last second.
“Moby will remain human now and live a normal human lifespan. With the love of his life, apparently. So happy for you. Mean it.” With an exaggerated eye roll, she waves her hand at us and begins to sink below the ocean surface once more.