Page 51 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“If you don’t mind me asking”—Melany elegantly crossed her legs—“how did you get yourself banged up enough to need a tonic?”
Embarrassment prickled my cheeks. And I thanked the stars and all the cosmic entities of the universe that my mom had given me her reddish complexion because I never looked pink-cheeked with embarrassment if my cheeks were always pink. “We tried to go swimming,” I said. “In the inlet outside. And thetide came in earlier than expected so I played pinball with the rocks.”
“Oh my,” Melany said.
Sarah laughed. “Damn. That had to be terrifying.”
My stomach swam as the memory rushed back—of being stuck beneath the surface, drowning, while the current smashed my body up. But the swimming turned to a gentle flutter as my brain reminded me where the misadventure had taken me: to Alistair.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear screaming last night.” I swallowed the fizzy feelings down. “From me or Jackson. He got belted around too. Not as bad, though.”
“Honestly, hon, you could’ve thrown a rave outside our bedroom, and I wouldn’t have heard a thing. I was exhau—Oh, dang it!” Melany leapt to her feet when the tea kettle let out a wailing cry. “That scared the life half out of me.”
“You need help?” Sarah asked.
“No, dear. You sit and enjoy our guest. I’ll be just a moment.”
“I did actually hear something last night, now that you mention it,” Sarah said to me. “Not much of something. And I’d just been reading about the banshees on the isle, so I figured it was my head playing tricks on me.”
“There are banshees on the isle?” I blanched. I really,reallyshould’ve researched this place more.
“Yep, two of them! There’s a full history on them in here.” Sarah plucked the glossy brochure off the coffee table and handed it to me. “They do nighttime haunt tours to see them—ear protection included, of course.”
“Huh.” I stared down at the shining leaflet. “Welcome to Niverwick Isle”stretched across the front in big, loopy letters, “where magic, myths, and monsters await.”
And…Stars.I hadn’t even noticed this yesterday.
But beneath the slogan, and the few scripts of testimonials(“Best. Vacation. Ever.”) was a picture of Alistair. A painting, one that made him look fierce: a dark green serpent, slithering through the seas, his orange eyes searching for their next kill.
A chill rattled my spine.
“It’s horrid looking, isn’t it?” Melany swooped back over with three mugs of tea balanced precariously between her hands. “I know Nessie’s the centerpiece, but I’m not sure that I want to see him if he looks likethat.”
He doesn’t. Well…okay. He does a little bit. But his eyes aren’t that mean.
“They should’ve put Marvin as their centerpiece.” Melany placed my cup in front of me.
I blinked and tore my eyes away from Alistair’s painting. “Marvin?”
“The cat,” Sarah said. “Melany stalked him last night.”
“I didnot.I just saw him walking in front of us and asked his name. And it’s adorable. Such a proper name for a proper fellow. We should find a way to abscond him, Sarah.”
“Marvin stays on the island,” Sarah said dryly. “And wecertainlydon’t need another cat. The ones we have are enough pains in the ass.”
“Oh, shush.” Melany clicked her tongue. “Youadoreour munchkins, and you know it.”
“I will admit to no such thing.” The wave of affection and love that cascaded off Sarah as she said those words had my own chest pinging with happiness.
But then I glanced back at Alistair’s painting and a barb of sorrow shot into my heart. I traced the tip of his snout, where his lips were curled over his teeth. And I wondered how long he’d been stuck here, alone, with no one to talk to. No friends, family, lovers. Only the sea…and now the gaping tourists.
I circled my thumb over his eye.No wonder you felt so sad.
“Oh…Sh—”I squealed when a rock careened out from under my foot, sending me thumping onto my keister and sliding a good foot or two down the meandering cliff path.
“—oot,”I finished when I came to a stop, precariously close to the edge. “Shoot. Ouch.” Blood glittered on my hands from the scrape the rocks had left on my palms. “I take that back.Shitis the word I need.”
My bruises and nicks from last night’s misadventure hadjusthealed. And here I was, sitting at a bend in the cliff path at half past the witching hour (the old superstition us Standies had about 3:00 a.m.) and banging myself up,again.
