Page 51 of Tide Touched

We follow her until we emerge outside, in the fresh breeze, on a rock way out at sea. Within the rock is set a large, smooth cave. A woman stands in the entrance, her red hair blowing softly in the breeze. She smiles at me, and I nearly faint. That’s what happens when you see your dead mother. Killian sets a steadying hand at the small of my back, his touch warm and comforting.

‘What the fuck?’

My mother just smiles. ‘It’s nice to see you, too.’

This time, my anger rises. ‘What the fuck, Mum?’ I take a step forward. ‘You—you were dead. Dad told me you died!’ If I had ever imagined this extremely strange moment, I might have thought I’d be so relieved so see her, I would run to her, wrap my arms around her.

That is so not happening.

The figure from my memory, the mother who has been “dead” since I was a little kid is so vague that I might not have even recognised her if it weren’t for my vision, that water-induced black-out dream memory. I glare at her now. She clasps her hands together nervously.

‘There’s much to explain, Katie.’ She gestures into the cave. ‘Why don’t you come inside, join my coven, and we can talk?’

I turn around, staring out at the vast expanse of water. Water I’ve always felt so connected to in contrast with my Fire wolf powers. ‘You’re the reason I’m a freak.’

Jasmine, my mother, winces, but says nothing.

Killian tucks me slightly against him, a tentative comforting gesture.

I stare her down. ‘Why did you leave?’

The Old Lady, whose name I never got, and am not interested in, hovers awkwardly, shifting from one foot to another. ‘How about some tea?’ She rubs her old, wrinkled hands. ‘Even us Tide Witches get cold, you know.’

‘I don’t care if you freeze solid!’ I whirl on my ‘mother’, closing the distance between us. ‘I’m not having tea. Tell me now. Why did you leave? Why did I never know the truth about myself?’

Jasmine inhales deeply, visibly uncomfortable. Good. ‘Sweetie, it’s complicated.’ She reaches out to touch my hair.

Beside me, Killian looses a low, deep growl in warning.

My mother pauses, then retracts her hand. ‘Is this your mate?’

‘If you won’t answer my questions, why would I answer yours?’ Something in my chest cracks and melts gooey warm stuff at Killian’s protectiveness. I might not need it, but I’m grateful.

‘I… your father decided to leave me, honey. He found that Fire Wolf and decided… it looked better for him in his pack to be with her. He told me to leave.’ She lowers her gaze. ‘I didn’t know he would tell you I was dead.’ Jasmine’s voice cracks, and somehow, I think she’s telling the truth.

‘But you just left? You never came back for me? I was an outcast! The fire freak who loved water!’

Killian’s hand gently rubs my lower back. She reaches for me again, prompting another fierce growl from my mate. I’m glad. I don’t want her to touch me.

‘I am her mother,’ Jasmine says.

Killian pulls me back a step. ‘Unless I know she wants your touch, you don’t stand a chance. You’re a stranger.’

I turn to him. ‘I want to leave.’ I glare at this… person. Who left me. ‘There’s nothing for me here.’

Killian’s arm winds around my waist, and leads me away from the witches, Moira and Elijah with us. ‘How do we leave?’ He snarls.

The Old Witch mumbles something and waves her hands. The water moves, and under it, something is revealed beneath the water. A walkway made of rocks lined up together like tiny tectonic plates.

I stare out, my vision slightly glazing. All my life, I’ve felt alone. Like I don’t belong. And this is why. At least there’s a reason, I guess, but that doesn’t help. Not now. I turn back to her. ‘You let me grow up without you. Without knowing… who I am.’

Jasmine’s lips thin. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice is lost in the wind. ‘You can come in,’ she tries, clearing her throat. ‘You can talk to me. I—I’ll answer anything, tell you anything you want to know.’

My gaze lands on Moira. Relief and familiarity fill me. I shake my head. ‘I know who I am, regardless of you.’ Moira grasps my hand and squeezes. Fighting back tears, I square my shoulders. ‘Family is who is there for you.’

The old woman tuts in sympathy, for me or Jasmine, I don’t know. Or care.

‘Let me…’ Jasmine keeps her hands to herself, but takes a step forward. ‘Just let me look at you.’ Her gaze takes me in. Her eyes are pale blue, nothing like mine. Her hair is orange-red, nothing like mine. Her skin is pale, her cheeks dappled with freckles, unlike me.

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