Page 1 of The Sea Witch's Son

Prologue

I knew I was different from a young age.

The first day of fifth grade is what started it. I showed up wearing my best suit, a dapper three-piece in the most delightful shade of grey. My hair had been artfully slicked back, my ten-year-old self looking downright handsome as I joined the children waiting to be called into the classroom.

There were eleven children entering school this year and I was the second smallest. This fact did not concern me, for I had already analyzed my predicted growth chart and knew that I would not stay this way for long.

Out of the eleven children, only three of them were girls and that was the highest number Wolf Hollow Academy had seen in years. Most girls, you see, did not make it to grade school in this town. More often than not, they were sold off to the highest bidder or shipped away to be free of the criminals lurking on every street corner.

Josephine Hook, Tahira Malik, and Freya Clementon were the three girls in my grade. The daughter of a pirate, the daughter of an oil tycoon, and the daughter of the new town mayor. I knew everything there was to know about them, just as I knew everything there was to know about every boy in my grade. The report I had assembled earlier that summer lay dormant in my knapsack. The files I had crafted together were made meticulously to ensure I could successfully accomplish my goal for this year.

Unlike my classmates, I was not looking to make friends. I was looking to make allies. My intelligence was far superior to the loud and dirty children playing around me, but I knew I needed to find the children who had the greatest potential to be of service. The children who would serve as tools and building blocks to begin my empire, to begin the slow ascent to becoming the visionary of Wolf Hollow.

I was going to run this town. I knew it the same way I knew I wasn’t always going to be the second smallest kid in the room.

As you can imagine, being one of the smaller boys meant that I was an easy target. By the time lunchtime rolled around, my perfectly coiffed suit had been stained and taunted by the other kids in my grade.

I remember looking down at my hands, staring at the fingers I had spent hours burning because I wanted the creases in my dress pants to lookjust right.

A dedicated fellow I was, even back then.

“Now you look just as stupid as your suit, Seaborn.” Jack Heart laughed, his hair just as wild and unruly as the rest of him. By all means, I should have been intimidated by the boy who was twice my size, but instead I found myself amused.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He sneered at me, “And why not?”

“Because,” I said slowly, “Now I’ll have to punish you.”

He laughed, “You’re too small to hurt me.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged, “But my mother’s eels aren’t. And when you’re lying in bed tonight, I’ll climb in through your window and slip one under the covers. I’ll stand back and watch the serpent slither its way up your unconscious body and wrap its tail around your throat. I’ll wait just long enough to hear you scream and then I’ll take a picture to frame and hang on my bedroom wall.”

Jack started to cry and I got sent to the principal’s office.

I do not consider myself to be a vengeful person, but I will admit, I spent the next three weeks tormenting my tormentor. Slipping fake snakes into his backpack, leaving pictures of my mother’s victims lying on his desk – I went from being the second smallest kid to the one everyone feared.

I could blame the cruel intentions on the absent father or the mother who had no love for her child, but the truth is, I enjoyed every second of it. I have always been fascinated with the psychology of fear and to see it play out before my young eyes was riveting beyond my wildest imagination.

There was so muchpowerthat could be taken from a person’s psyche that I found myself seeking out the buried fears every one of my classmates had.

Fear, I discovered quickly, was the key to manipulation.

It did not take long for teachers to notice my strange obsession with scaring my classmates. They did not understand that I was in the process of researching for my future. I was taking note of the next generation’s weaknesses and exploiting them in ways that could be conquered or succumbed to.

Really, I was doing them all a favour.

“Marlin is out of control.” Lilian Tremaine, the school principal, scolded my mother one dreary afternoon.

“He spends his time watching the other children on the playground and writing down their strengths and weaknesses in that little notebook of his. The children are terrified and the parents are furious. Your son has been showing narcissistic tendencies since day one, but enough is enough.”

I stared at her, watching the fear flick through her eyes when she glanced at me. Slowly, I pulled my notebook from my suit pocket and made a note.

“You see!” Lilian cried, jabbing a finger in my direction, “He’s doing it even now. He’s trying to break into my mind to steal my fear and use it against me.”

Paranoid, most definitely.

I added those three words and put my notebook down with a smile. Adults were more complicated pawns than children, but I enjoyed playingthe long game.

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