Page 57 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
“Is it a good thing? Or bad?”
“I guess we’re both gonna find out.” That soundedway morecoy than I’d intended.
I was almost thankful when a wave blasted my knees, reminding me that I was standing in the ocean, on a sea beast’s head, and should not have been flirting.
“You’re safe, Pippi,” Alistair soothed.
I exhaled, trying to convince my brain of that, even as my heart leapt into my throat when the next wave leered at me. It was bigger than the others, and it looked mean,with the way it panted and steamrolled. Like the big bad wolf, storming over to huff and puff and blow the pig’s houses down.
“Can you take hold of my horn?” Alistair asked.
“Your—” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth when the wave rampaged closer.
“My horn,” Alistair repeated. “It should be beside you.”
My eyes fell to the right, where the tip of his horn curved out of the water, rising almost to my hip.I scooted over and grasped it for dear life, even as it made the scrape on my hand burn.
The wave, thankfully, huffed and puffed too much and winded itself by the time it hit the rocks. It made a great hiss as it splashed ice water up to my waist, but it was too weak to make a proper grab at my legs.
“Goodness, that’scold.”My back tightened around a shiver. I swore the water temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since last night.
Or maybe my fevered skin just made itseemcolder.
“I’m sorry,” Alistair said. And a punch ofsomethingwent through my gut. A strange, flavored emotion that was a bit likesadness, joy, regret, disgust, and hope being sautéed in a big skillet.
I almost bent down to stroke the top of his head, to offer what little comfort I could. But I looked back at the cliffs first, to make sure my shoes had stayed out of the wave’s teeth, and I blanched.
Because the cliffs were several feet away.
Alistair had started swimming. So smoothly, I didn’t even feelthe movement. But he was quick. Within seconds, the dark fog swallowed the cliffs.
I dug my fingers into the hard, almost fingernail-like texture of Alistair’s horn. “It’s easier for you to swim underwater.” It wasn’t a question, just me thinking out loud.
But he humored me with an answer. “It’s quicker. Although I don’t find it d-difficult to swim above the surface. It’s different.”
“I guess it would be. Yeah. Like someone doing freestyle versus a backstroke.”
He hummed, as if agreeing.
Wet, salty air walloped my cheeks as he glided through the inlet.
Stars above, this had to be a sight. With me zipping over the choppy current like Aladdin flying out of the Cave of Wonders on his magic carpet.
A deep and nervous, but highly amused, bray exploded out of me.
Alistair blanched. And then erupted in a trumpeting chuckle that shook his entire body, made the waves jiggle, and probably had the cliffs shuddering.
I clung to his horn but somehow, miraculously, didn’t feel frightened of the gyrating ocean. I was too busy fighting off my random giggle attack.
“Was that”—Alistair’s body vibrated again—“alaugh?”
“No.” But another great, hiccupping guffaw rolled up my throat. “Okay,yes.But I could ask you the same question, Mr.Sonic Boom. How many fish did you send into hiding with that sound bomb?”
“A few.”
“I’ll bet.”
“How many humans do you f-frighten with that laugh?” he asked.
