Page 53 of A Winding Wave of Magic
After about an hour,peace was replaced by shivers from forty-eight-degree water that numbed my fingers and toes. The sun was beginning to set at the horizon, and there were only a few surfers left in the water—the rest had headed back to drive home or were starting bonfires up and down the rocky, coved beach.
Just one more ride, I thought to myself as I watched a new set rolling.One more perfect wave.
I could never completely let go. Not when so much noise awaited me on shore.
I was starting to contemplate my exit when I noticed a man on the shore yelling and frantically waving his arms back and forth at me. One of the people I used to surf with, once upon a time? Unlikely, as most of my friends from high school weren’t on the coast anymore and probably wouldn’t know me from so far away anyway. I was apparently quite forgettable—most of the people in town rarely, if ever, recognized me on my trips home.
Cautiously, I raised my hand and turned back around to face the oncoming sets. It was dangerous to keep your back to the ocean for too long. And if this was going to be my last ride, I’d make it a good one.
“Cassandra!”
My name floated over the whitewash as the wind started to shift. When I looked back, the man was still flapping his arms, gesturing for me to return to shore.
I shrugged and turned back to the horizon. Whoever it was, he was just going to have to wait until I found my last wave.
The ocean, of course, decided not to cooperate, flattening into a lull. I shoved my gloved hands underneath my armpits and rocked back and forth on my board, blowing strawberries with numbed lips. A sleek gray and black seal popped up about ten feet away and crooked his face to one side as if to ask what in the world I was doing there.
“I don’t even know, buddy,” I said. “I’m starting to ask myself that too.”
The seal disappeared back under the water as the waves began to surge.
I wasn’t always lucky enough to have my last ride of the day be the best one, but the final set delivered. A nearly flawless wave approached from the left side, and I jumped on. I made two nice cutbacks before a big piece of kelp tangled with my leash and pulled me into the surf. Cold whitewash bubbled overheadwhile I worked to cut the seaweed from my board, earning more than one mouthful of saltwater and loam.
I had never been happier to taste it.
Another lull settled on the break, giving me the chance to get back on the board. While my mind would have happily gone back for more, it wasn’t to be. Instead, I was jerked backward by a current moving in the opposite direction of the rest of the surf.
“What in the…” I looked around me, searching for a riptide that wasn’t there. Normally I’d see something like that before I even entered the water, and I’d be sure to avoid it completely. This, however, wasn’t the same kind of choppy current slanting against the tide. Instead, it was as if the whitewash flowed backward in a long, straight conveyor belt. There was nothing natural about it.
“Cassandra!”
I twisted around toward the familiar voice laced with panic. “Jonathan?”
He was almost unrecognizable. The sorcerer’s normally implacable face blazed with fury that matched the sun as he held out a hand toward me, brow furrowed in concentration as he his mouth moved along with the blaze in his eyes.
My board began to move faster.
“Wait—what are you doing?” I demanded. “Stop that!”
He didn’t answer, too busy focusing on dragging me back to the beach for more than just my name.
I swung around on the board, but the awkward movement made me fall into the two feet of water left around me. Even so, the current tugged me backward into the sand and surf, splashing water in my eyes and up my nose and causing my board to bang into me until we were both washed up on the sand, no better than castaways.
Jonathan loomed over me, eyes back to normal, but somehow still darkened. “Whatin the hell were you doing outthere?” Once again, his accent tilted more toward Irish, half-shouted over the ocean’s roar.
I sat up, spitting loose hair from my face. “What wereyoudoing? You could have drowned me back there!”
“Drowned you?” He turned his face to the sky and barked a loud, coarse laugh. “Drownedyou? I can’t go anywhere without saving you from bloody drowning!”
I scowled as I got up. “You’re kidding, right? I grew up surfing this break, asshole. I know every single rhythm of this water, and I wasn’t even close to being in danger untilyoudecided to create your own fucking riptide!”
“It—thatthing”—he pointed at the board—“dragged you under!”
“That’s a board, you idiot. And it was just a bit of kelp that tangled with the leash, not a leviathan.”
“And have you any idea of how fucking dangerous that is? People drown all the time in the ocean!”
I followed his finger thrust toward the water, which still lapped peacefully under a setting sun. “If you’re so afraid of the water, I suggest swimming lessons. And also to stop interfering with other, much moreexperiencedswimmers!”
