Page 100 of The Sea Witch's Son

Mischievous eyes sparkle back at me. Calista is setting out another challenge, trying to bait me into revealing a past I do not care to remember.

We are similar in that way. Always poking at the other to see who will crack first.

So far, neither of us have succeeded.

“It was terribly difficult. I couldn’t help but think about my father.” I pause, meeting her stare, “And wonder whether his death was half as agonizing as I always hoped it would be.”

Calista throws her head back and laughs. The crows hiding in nearby trees immediately take flight, their sleek black wingstearing through the sky as the cackle resonates through the forest.

“Your mother would be proud of how far you’ve come.” Wiping her eyes, Calista shakes her head, “You are the town’s greatest treasure."

I offer a modest shrug, “Must run in the family.”

“Speaking of family, did you happen to look at Melody’s file again?”

“Did something capture your attention?”

“Not something.Someone.” Teeth flash my way, “The police file on the father’s murder was impressively sparse, but I did notice a phone number was left as an emergency contact.”

I nod slowly, “That would be the neighbour’s number. The one who filed the domestic abuse reports.”

“Correct, as always.” Calista pulls out her phone, “I did a little investigating and look who the number belongs to.”

I stare at the name for a moment too long.

“Now, that is an interesting development.”

She grins, “I believe your little plaything has some explaining to do.”

“Yes. I believe she does.”

Turning on my heel, I walk away hearing the echo of Calista’s laughter. It’s a manic sort of sound, one that does not sit right with my current state of mind.

One that does not sit right at all.

I keep walking until the familiar shoreline comes into view. The Seaborn Mansion rises like a wave over the beach, just waiting to crash down on anyone who dares to pass.

An old dock floats along the shore. Gentle waves lap at the wooden beams, the thick sludge of algae staining the faded colour green.

The grave sits just beyond the dock. A mound of dirt impaled by a sign that a little boy made once upon a time.

Tucking my hands into my pockets, I turn and start the journey home. I keep my gaze trained forward, not bothering to read the words I wrote so long ago.

Here lies T. Seaborn.

He lived and died a fool.

Chapter 36

MELODY

The night terrors won’t go away.

Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in the pool. Struggling to breathe, unable to scream, I’m trapped in my own body until that one voice screams for me to wake up.

It’s always the same voice.

My bleary eyes beg me to go back to sleep, but I can never bring myself to do it. It takes hours for my breathing to return to normal, and even then, I can’t bear the thought of being trapped in the darkness again.

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