Black Depths: The Full-Series Boxed Set

Black Depths Boxed Set

Sea-Witch, Broken Tide, Dark Shores, Doomed Seas, and Twisted Currents

J. E. Hunter

Contents

Sea-Witch

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Broken Tide

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Dark Shores

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Doomed Seas

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

Twisted Currents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Also by J. E. Hunter

About the Author

Untitled

Sea-Witch

Chapter 1

There was something wrong with my hair.

I leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, picking up my brush. I combed my long strands horizontally outward from my scalp, studying each one individually. Late afternoon sunlight glinted through my frosted window, illuminating the handful I was inspecting. I froze mid-brush.

There was something really wrong with my hair.

It was brownish-red. My hair was not supposed to be brownish-red. My hair was dark brown, perfectly matched to my dark brown eyes.

Before I could look at it further, my cell phone began singing. I raced to answer it, dropping my brush without a second thought. Marnie. Did you hear from them? I asked breathlessly, already knowing my best friend was on the other end of the line. I sat down on my bed. It was still unmade because I'd just found the energy to wake up even though it was five o'clock in the afternoon. Summer vacation was definitely my favourite part of the year.

Yes, and they're coming! Aaron, Cody, and Graham are all in. But there's something else. Marnie's voice moved into the high octaves; she was excited about something.

What? I asked.

Aaron's going to call you! He’s finally going to ask you out. Marnie squealed into my ear.

I yanked the phone away. When I heard the squealing stop I put the phone back. My hands were shaky and damp with sweat. I gripped my turquoise bedspread tightly as I asked my next question. When?

A beep blocked out Marnie's answer. I looked at my call display and felt my heart flutter.

O-M-G Marnie, he's calling me right now. I'll call you back. I cut the line with Marnie just as she began squealing. Hello? Letting go of my blankets, I wiped my sweaty palm on my jeans.

Nessa? Hey, it's Aaron. His voice came over the line as smooth and sexy as it was in person. I'd never spoken to him on the phone before, even though he was a regular member of the group Marnie and I hung out with. Last weekend he’d almost kissed me—I was sure of it—only we’d been interrupted by a puking Graham.

Aaron. Hi. It's nice to hear from you. I mentally smacked myself—I sounded like such an idiot.

Hey. Yeah, For sure. I'm just calling to see if you're coming to the beach tonight, and to see if you need a ride.

I closed my eyes, picturing Aaron's curly, dirty-blond hair, hazel eyes, and athletic build. My pulse fluttered. Oh. I'll probably just borrow my mom's car and pick up Marnie on the way. I'll be at the beach for sure. Probably around eight. So if you're there, I'll see you. Unless you're hiding… or something… then I won't see you...because you'd be hiding. I pinched my eyes shut, embarrassed by my own uncontrollable babbling.

Great. Great! I'll see you there at eight then. Aaron's voice still sounded hopeful. That was a good sign.

See you later. I hit the end button on my cell phone and with a heavy sigh I fell backward onto my soft, unmade bed. I closed my eyes for five seconds before I realized I really needed to get moving if I was going to be ready in time for the beach. And I needed to get to Marnie's as soon as possible if I was going to look drop dead gorgeous.

On my way, I texted Marnie, then I jumped up from my bed, grabbed my tan-coloured purse and my favourite cherry-red summer dress, and ran out of my room. As I passed my parents’s bedroom door, the familiar loss of oxygen came over me and my head began to spin. I grabbed the banister as I headed downstairs, fighting to stay on my feet and keep the shaking out of my hand. Things had been getting better over the past couple weeks—I felt like I could breathe deeper now compared to the first couple days—but things were still far from okay. That was the good thing about distraction: if I was sleeping or busy I could forget about everything that had happened.

I slowed at the bottom of the steps when I heard the familiar, choking sobs. The worst part of being around Mom. I wanted to help her, to stop her crying, but I didn’t know how. So instead, I bit the inside of my cheek and prepared myself for the black hole that used to be my mother. Stepping forward softly, I pushed open the squeaking, swinging kitchen door. Mom instantly raised her hands to dry her face. She was sitting at the chocolate-coloured kitchen table, a glass of tea in front of her. Peppermint; I could smell it as soon as I stepped into the room.

I could have asked her how she was. But for the past two weeks the only response I’d gotten was, Fine. We both knew that was a lie. I’m going out, I said instead.

She nodded. The keys are on the table.

Could I have a few dollars? You know, for gas.

Mom nodded her head of short, straw-blond hair. She turned to her left, keeping her gaze downward and away from me as she dug through her purse. I looked like my dad: I had his dark brown hair and eyes, and his perfect, round nose. I’d always wished I looked like Mom, with her blonde crop of shiny hair. But now that dad was gone, I was glad to have a living reminder of him, except that it seemed to make it hard for Mom to look at me.

Of course; here’s forty. She held the money out to me with a boney, shaky arm. Drive safe. Have something healthy for supper.

What are you going to eat? I asked.

Don’t worry about me, Nessa. I’m fine. She pushed the money into my hand and then grabbed my shoulder. "Just be safe." Abruptly, she stood up, walked past me, cup of tea in hand. Her slow, plodding footsteps grew faint as she climbed the stairs. I wouldn’t see her again until tomorrow morning.

My lip shook as I headed out the door. Why couldn’t she just hug me? Why couldn’t she tell me it would be all right? That was what she was supposed to do; she was the adult. I was the child—I wasn’t supposed to be comforting her. The way she ignored me—it just made me feel so…

I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and speed-dialed Marnie.

Tell me what happened with Aaron, she said.

I... Words failed me. I… I'm just leaving now.

What's wrong? Marnie caught on immediately, proving why she was my best friend. Did Aaron say something to upset you?

No. It wasn't Aaron. I took a deep breath. I'll tell you when I get to your house.

Okay. Drive safe. That was Marnie: responsible, practical, and mature beyond her years—except for the squealing.

I jumped into Mom’s well-used Volkswagen Jetta, turning the engine. It started—reliable as always. I reached up, pulled down the visor, flipped open the mirror, checked my natural and dad-approved make-up before remembering I wasn't wearing any. Before remembering that something was wrong with my hair. Before remembering that Dad was dead and Mom was as good as.

I turned the visor back up with a sharp snap. I backed out of our treeless driveway and onto the twilight streets of Surrey, British Columbia. I needed to get away, fast. But getting away didn’t help; it tore me apart. Why had Dad been so careless? Why had he been so stupid and answered his cell phone while driving? If only he’d thought for one second, maybe he’d still be here. My chest constricted, my vision blurred. The next thing I knew, I was halfway to Marnie's house, tears streaming down my face. Stop it, he’s gone. Crying won’t change anything, I choked on the words. The vacuum of reality sucked the good feelings from my heart.

I reached up and wiped my eyes as I turned the wheel to the right. Through my tears, the yellow fire hydrant caught my eye. It wobbled. Too much stress, Nessa. You are too stressed. Just calm down and stop talking to yourself. The yellow fire hydrant wobbled again, and then skyrocketed away.

What the hell? I yelled, slamming the brakes. The heavy hydrant landed on the hood of the car with a thick, loud crunch. Fat drops of water followed it, pounding into the roof of the car. Slowly, I stepped out of the vehicle, away from the water. I looked back: less than ten feet away sat Mom’s car: silent, unmoving, and utterly destroyed.

Chapter 2

I f you did it you can tell me. Marnie and I were sitting on the edge of her lawn, watching a tow-truck chain up Mom's wet and crumpled car.

I didn't do it. I already told you. I pulled my knees tightly to my chest. The fire-hydrant shot off. I didn't run into it. I don’t get why they feel the need to tow the vehicle away for an inspection. Luckily enough, the incident had occurred right outside Marnie's front door. I hadn't even had to call for help. Marnie had heard the sound of pounding water and looked outside in fear that our evening was ruined. She'd been right.

We'd been sitting on the curb for two hours while the police inspected the scene and asked me five times if I'd been drinking. They were sure I'd crashed the car into the fire hydrant, as was Mom, who'd arrived half an hour ago. Thankfully, a lack of evidence on the car, the fire hydrant, and my breath had proved them wrong. I wouldn’t drive like that: I wouldn’t be careless. Not after, I paused to take a deep breath, Not after what happened to my dad.

Marnie silently turned her blond head to watch with me. The police gave the tow-truck driver instructions on where to take the car for further inspections. Mom stood next to them, arms crossed firmly over her chest.

As if she could read my mind, Marnie said, Your mom sure looks thin.

She doesn't eat anymore. I tucked my hair behind my ear, bracing to reveal the truth. She’s depressed. It’s really bad. She won’t even look at me. I think…I think it’s because I look like him.

Marnie's blue eyes grew round. What? Oh, Nessa, I’m so sorry.

I dug my nails deep into the soft tissue of my palms. I just wish she’d snap out of it. That she’d remember she still has a daughter to live for.

Marnie reached over, hugging me. It'll be fine Nessa. I'm here. Marnie pulled away, looking me in the eye. I’m sure your mom will pull out of it soon. She just needs a bit of time—she’s grieving. I'm sure Aaron would be more than willing to keep you company in the meantime.

I laughed a little. Even with all this drama you're still trying to play matchmaker.

Marnie shrugged. Well, you've had a crush on him for months. And it's pretty obvious he likes you—he almost kissed you last weekend! Marnie wistfully looked in the direction of the beach, which was hidden by a myriad of suburban houses. It's too bad we're missing the beach party. Aaron sounded pretty upset when I told him why we couldn't make it. Marnie squeezed my hand. He said he'd call you next week when he gets back from his family vacation.

A sharp pain hit me in the stomach. He's leaving?

Marnie nodded. Before sunrise. His family's going on some wilderness fishing retreat thingy so he can't bring his cell phone.

Crap. I bit my lip, trying to stop the shaking. This really sucks. Everything...it just sucks. Tears slipped out of the corners of my eyes. I mean, first my dad dies. Then some stupid fire-hydrant gets me in an accident... I pushed the tears off my cheeks. "And now Aaron… This has to be the worst summer ever."

Maybe tomorrow will be better?

I smiled weakly at Marnie and shook my head. Maybe; it's not like it can get much worse.

Marnie smiled back, but her blue eyes didn't look any happier than I felt. Which means things have to get better, right?

Nessa, the taxi's here, Mom yelled, saving me from trying to find an answer to Marnie’s un-answerable question.

I stood, brushing off the seat of my jeans.

Marnie stood up with me. I'll call you tomorrow. We can take the bus to the mall, hang out at Starbucks.

I tried to laugh. We both hated Starbucks. Can't wait. I crawled into the cab behind Mom. She gave the cabbie our address and then started in on me.

What the hell happened, Nessa?

Nothing! How dare she start by accusing me. "I told you and the police what happened." I glared at her. She refused to meet my gaze.

Were you drinking?

Of course not. I was driving extremely carefully. Do you really think that after…that after Dad, that I’d do something that stupid?

I don’t know what you’re thinking, Nessa.

"Exactly, because you don’t talk to me anymore. You may as well be dead too!"

Mom let out long sigh, looking down at her hands. Do you really think that?

I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Of course I didn’t want her dead. Having her here and depressed was better than not having her here at all, wasn’t it? I didn't crash the car. I crossed my arms and looked out the window, away from her.

I jumped out of the cab the moment the driver put it in park. I ran into the house and up to my room before I had to say another word. Collapsing on my bed, I closed my eyes, hoping I'd fall asleep and wake up to discover this awful experience had been a dream. But I knew it was real. My life had changed, and it was stuck this way.

The next morning I woke up, remembered the dreadful truth of my life: Dad’s death, the car crash, and the fact that Aaron was on vacation and out of cell service range. I checked my phone for messages anyway, and found one from Marnie telling me she was catching the eleven o'clock bus. My alarm clock showed me I had half an hour to get ready.

I messaged Marnie back. See u on the bus.

I put my phone down, walked into my bathroom, and screamed.

Nessa? Mom ran into my room. Oh my God. What have you done? She grabbed a fistful of my hair, inspecting it.

Nothing. I stared dumbfounded at the reflection in the mirror. A sixteen year-old girl with bright, clown-red hair and sea-blue eyes stared back at me.

What kind of dye did you use? We can fix this. Your father…if he were here… Mom's thin fingers began fluttering over the countertop, searching for the used box of hair dye that didn't exist. She opened and closed the medicine cabinet, riffled through the trash, even looked under my toothbrush.

I didn't dye my hair. It turned this colour on its own. I knew just what Dad would say about my hair if he were here. He’d always told me to be proud of the skin I was born with. He wouldn’t want me to change, and I didn’t want to either. But Mom was already absolutely positive that this was my fault.

Mom turned, hands falling to her side like she’d lost all strength. Don't lie to me, Vanessa. I can’t deal with this kind of crap right now. My head’s already bursting with stuff I don’t want to deal with.

I rolled my eyes and stomped my foot. I'm not lying. I never lied to you. The police already told you the accident wasn't my fault.

Mom glanced at me, making eye contact for what must have been the first time in close to a month. She leaned closer. Are you wearing coloured contacts? You know I forbade you from buying those.

Pushing past Mom, I marched out of the bathroom, desperate to put distance between us. They aren't contacts, I shouted.

I'm not stupid, Vanessa. Do you think I can't remember the eye colour my own daughter was born with? Mom chased after me, skinny frame shaking with anger.

I'm surprised you even remember you have a daughter! I grabbed my purse from the back of my desk chair, tossing my favourite belongs into it: raspberry lip-gloss, a green cell phone, the latest vampire novel, my blue iPod.

I’m sad, Nessa, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. Mom grabbed my elbow; I easily shook her off. Stop running away from me.

I'll run if I want to.

Run where?

Anywhere you aren't.

That won't fix things. That won't make your dad come back.

Maybe not, but it might make me feel better. Running out my bedroom door, I shoved my nails into my palms, cutting into the skin. I miss him too, you know. I didn’t get to say goodbye either. You’re not the only one who’s sad, even though you think you are. I could barely hold it together as I screamed at her. I hated her for making me feel like I didn’t matter. Maybe I should just leave you to your misery. You’ll probably enjoy it more if I’m not around to distract you. My purse bounced on my shoulder as I ran downstairs.

Mom ran after me. Get back here! Nessa! Stop right there or I'll–

Or you'll what? I spun around at the bottom of the stairs, one hand tightly gripping my purse strap, the other on my hip. Ground me? Good luck holding me back.

Or I'll–

The screen door banged shut. What in the ocean is going on here?

I spun left and saw my grandma, my mother's mother, standing in the entrance. Her appearance immediately shushed me; for a sixty year-old woman, she was breathtaking. She was wearing a long green dress that stopped just high enough to display her fashionable baby-healed sandals. Her skin was moist and tanned and barely had any wrinkles. But what stood out most about her was the long red hair that hung in a braid over her left shoulder in a cascade of rich, maraschino cherry colour that was twenty-times better than the colour my hair had turned.

Mom, my mom sobbed, hunching inward, the fire going out.

I brushed past them both. I'm going out.

Grandma nodded.

I glared. What the hell is she doing here? How could she possibly have the nerve to show up now when she hadn’t even bothered to come to Dad’s funeral? It had taken Mom days to get a hold of her; apparently she’d been in Ireland visiting family. By the time Mom reached her, the funeral had come and gone. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be angry with her for not being there.

I stomped down the street toward the bus stop, thinking of the last time Grandma had visited. It had been a long time ago, five years at least. It had been pure hell. She'd spent the entire two days of her visit following me around, yelling at me to pick up after myself. Why don't you help your mom more? Why don't you do your own laundry? You should cook dinner once a week! I'd finally become so angry with her that I called her a horrible grandma and told her to go home. She'd responded by throwing a glass of water in my face. Of course Mom hadn’t believed that part—she'd been at work during the whole fiasco—but I still remembered every little detail that proved Grandma was untrustworthy. Dad hadn’t been fond of Grandma either—though I wasn’t sure why—but once she finally left, we’d gone out for ice cream to celebrate. This time Dad wouldn’t be around to share in my anguish.

I rubbed my eyes to keep the tears out of them. When I glanced up, the bus was rounding the corner. As expected, Marnie was already on it, sitting at the back where her blond hair stood out against the dark blue canvas seats. I walked down the aisle and took a seat beside her. She squirmed away from me like I was a smelly stranger invading her space. She didn't even turn her head.

Hi, Marnie, I said.

She looked at me and jumped. Nessa? What the hell did you do to your hair?

It's horrible isn't it? I don’t even look like him anymore.

Marnie put an arm around my shoulder. No. No! It's not bad—I think it looks kind of good on you, actually.

Don’t lie to me! It’s horrible. I hate it. I was born to be a brunette, just like my dad. I started tearing up; I couldn’t help it.

Well, then why did you do it?

I– I caught the words on the end of my tongue. Marnie would think I was crazy if I told her I didn’t do it. Everyone knew that hair didn’t just change colour on its own—not this drastically anyway. "I thought it would be easier if I looked different. Because, you know, everything is different. But now I wish I hadn’t done it."

Okay, if it’s what you want, I'm sure we can find a salon to fix it for you. You'll be back to your fabulous self in no time.

I exhaled very slowly. Thanks Marnie, that's exactly what I need.

No! My panicked, tearful tone had everyone in the salon—the hairdressers, the customers, the women under the big fancy round hairdryers—looking at me. No-no-no-no-no! My right fist tightly clenched one of my long locks. I stared at it, willing it to change colour. The hairdresser had already applied the dye and rinsed it out—twice—but my hair was still as red as a stoplight.

I...I'm really sorry, my hairdresser, a young twenty-something woman with a black and purple spiky do and a name tag that read Annie, stammered at me, helpless. I don't know why it isn't working. There must be something wrong with…your… the… dye, or something.

Marnie's mouth dropped open. She'd been standing beside me through both dye jobs. There has to be something you can do.

Yes, there has to be something. I can’t look like this. He would hate it. He would be so disappointed in me. Dad loved my dark hair. He’d told me to never change it.

Well... Annie raised a tired hand to her forehead. I've never seen this happen before. After two tries I have to think that you must have some kind of strange immunity to the chemicals. Why don't I just give you a cut instead? We could do something short, funky maybe–

No. I stood up. I shook my head and sat back down in a huff. I couldn't go out into the mall with wet hair—red was bad enough. Okay. Fine. I'll take a little trim and a blow-dry—one inch off the bottom at most. I might be stuck with red hair but at least it's long and shiny. I’ll just…I’ll just have to hope it washes out in time.

Annie smiled, pulling out the long clips she kept pinned to her apron. There you go. Now you're looking on the bright side. Some people would kill for hair as long and healthy as yours.

Marnie rolled her eyes when Annie was too busy to notice. Yeah right, she mouthed.

I forced myself to smile. Inside, I was bawling, because not only was my hair firmly, permanently, and un-dyeably red—my eyes were bright blue. I barely recognized myself. And if Dad were alive he wouldn’t recognize me either.

Two hours later, I arrived home swinging my new purchase: a navy zip-up hoodie with a small olive green flower embroidered over the bottom right pocket. Marnie had helped me find it after I’d complained about not having any clothing to match my new red hair. The hoodie was far from being my favourite piece of clothing, but it did make me feel a tiny bit better about my transformation.

Good, you're home. Grandma stood up from the couch when I stepped into the front hallway. She smoothed the long, green dress she wore and walked over to me. Take a seat in the living room while I get your mother. She has something she needs to tell you.

I tried to escape quickly to my bedroom but Grandma stepped in front of me, blocking my path. But I–

It can't wait. Grandma held up her hand, preventing more words from escaping my lips. It won't take long and it needs to be done now. She pierced my eyes with hers; I shrivelled backward. And I think you've given your mom a hard enough time for one day. She pointedly looked at my hair.

I took my shopping bag into the living room and dropped it at my feet. I scuttled back onto the couch, picking up the television remote. I didn't even get the chance to turn it on before Grandma returned with Mom in tow.

Mom peeped up at me once, quickly, then fixed her eyes on the window. Hey Sweetie, I'm glad you're home. We need to talk.

I tried not to panic; conversations that started with 'Sweetie' had never brought good news. I didn't say anything. Keeping my mouth firmly shut, I watched Mom pace across the pale, rose-coloured carpet, wringing her boney hands. She stopped, set her feet firmly on the floor, and exhaled.

Nessa, I'm sorry. She held her hands out in front of her, already apologizing for what she was about to say.

This wasn't good.

Since your father’s death, I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m going to sell the house.

Chapter 3

Y ou...You're what? I stuttered; fully forming a sentence was impossible. The room flashed in and out as I blinked. But it hasn’t even been a month yet!

Mom shook her head. I'm sorry, Nessa, but I just…I can’t do this—I can’t live here without him.

No! I grew up here. This is where we’ve always lived. I can’t leave. Not now. This is all we have left of him.

No. I can’t, Nessa. I can't...I...I just can't. Mom reached up, wiping the tears from her face. Her hands shook, her breath came in short, shallow gasps.

Where are we going to go? I gripped the couch tightly, even though it didn't stop the room from twirling. Could she really make me leave the house? How much did houses cost these days? It couldn't be that expensive. Maybe my college fund would pay for it. I looked at her; she didn't look back at me. You can have it. You can have all the money in my bank account if it means we get to stay here. Please. Please don't make me move.

Mom didn't answer.

Grandma stood up. No, Nessa, it’s not about money. There are many reason's why your mother is selling this house and money isn't one of them. She glanced quickly at Mom who was too busy furiously rubbing tears away to notice. As for where you'll live, Grandma continued, You're going to come live with me, on my island.

My lungs emptied like I'd been tossed into space. Your island? I'd heard of it even though I'd never been there. But there's nothing on the island, is there? Where will I go to school? Where's Mom going to work? What about my friends? What about volleyball?

Grandma's eyebrows furrowed as she frowned. She shook her head. "I’m sorry, Nessa. But you have to come and stay with me. Your mother will stay here, in Surrey."

I looked at Mom. She was still sobbing quietly by the window. Where are you going? She didn't reply. Mom! Where are you going?

She spun round to face me, her cheeks pale. To the psych ward before I kill myself!

No. No. She wasn't like that. She cared about me too much. She wouldn't leave me. Sure, she was so thin even size zero pants slid off her waist, and I hadn't seen her eat anything in a while but...I swallowed. A tear slid down my cheek. No. You wouldn't do that.

She shook her head. I'm sorry, but...but it's a possibility. She came toward me, holding out her hands.

No. No, you can’t just send me away. I can help you.

No one can help me but a doctor, Nessa. Your grandma will take good care of you.

I glared at the stranger standing in my living room. How do you know that? I don’t even know her! I’ve only met her once and I haven’t even spoken to her in over five years. She wasn’t even at Dad’s funeral. She doesn’t care about me.

Grandma stepped forward, the corners of her mouth pinched. I regret not being able to be here for your father’s memorial. But I do care about you—more than you know.

Then why haven’t you been around? Why don’t you ever visit? I was shouting now, my throat raw and tight.

Your grandma’s a very busy person. Mom reached out, placing her hands on my shoulders. But she’s here now. Give her a chance. Please, Nessa, give her a chance and I'll get better. I promise. If you let your grandma take care of you, I can take care of myself, and then I'll get better.

I numbly pushed tears off my face.

Come on, Nessa, Grandma said. You'd best go get ready.

I was given one day to pack. Tearfully, I called Marnie and broke the news:

I...have...to...leave.

What? Nessa, I can't hear anything you're saying. Your words are all mumbled. Are you crying?

I have...to...move...

What?

I'm moving! I forced the words out of my mouth.

Marnie was silent. I concentrated on slowing my breathing and stopping my tears.

A minute later she asked me, But you aren't moving far right?

Clenching the phone to my ear with my left shoulder, I ripped clothes out of my closet, stuffing them into a suitcase. Anger management was not looking good for my wardrobe. Yes. Far. Very far—too far. All the way to Vancouver Island.

Marnie paused, exhaling slowly. I heard her voice crack as she asked me another question: To Victoria?

I broke down, collapsing on my bed with a fistful of orange shirts I’d never be able to wear again. No. I'm moving to the middle of nowhere.

Comox?

I wish it was that close. I sniffed. I'm moving to my grandma's island, off the coast of Tofino. The only way to get there’s by boat. God, Marnie, what am I going to do? My head swam. I fell over into my blankets, burying my face in darkness.

When are you leaving?

T... I gasped, and then gasped again. I inhaled air. I tried to exhale but I only inhaled again.

Nessa? Nessa? Oh my God, you sound like you're hyperventilating. Breathe, okay, Nessa? Just breathe. Like we're doing yoga, slowly in and slowly out. Breathe in.

I gasped again.

I'm coming over.

Stay. Breathe in. On. Breathe out. The phone.

Okay. I will. And I'll be right there, just breathe with me, okay? In. One. Two. Three. Out. I listened to Marnie say those words over and over again as I waited. I closed my eyes so all I knew was the sound of Marnie's voice. All I saw was blackness.

Nessa? Marnie jumped on the bed beside me. Sit up.

I opened my eyes. There was Marnie, blue eyes blazing with worry.

You're okay. Just breathe.

Slowly, I regained my breath.

It really isn't that far away, she said, as my breathing returned to normal. We can talk on the phone. There's always text messaging and email. It'll be like you never left.

Email and phone calls aren't the same, I wanted to say, but I didn't. Instead I pushed myself up off the bed, away from Marnie. I tossed the clothes I'd been clutching into my suitcase. Can you help me pack? I asked before my panic rose up and began choking me again.

Marnie pushed herself to the edge of my bed. She was dressed to help in trusted worn-in blue jeans and a pink t-shirt. Sure. She looked down at the mess on my floor and bit her lip. Do you have any more suitcases?

I looked down at the navy, fifty-pound suitcase I'd taken on a family vacation to Mexico two years ago. Clothes were spilling over the sides, and I still had a dresser full of outfits and half my closet left to pack.

Marnie raised a pale eyebrow. I really don't think you're going to get any more clothes into that one.

I crumpled down onto the floor, burying my head in my hands. How am I going to pack it all? Grandma said I can only take three bags. This isn't all going to fit in three bags—and that doesn’t even include things that aren’t clothes! How can I put my entire life into three bags? I have nothing left, Marnie. Nothing.

Marnie sat down beside me, wrapped her arms around me, and rested her head on my shoulder. You have me, no matter how far away I am. And…well, I hate to say it, but most of these clothes don’t look good with your hair. So a wardrobe change might not be such a bad thing. Pack what’s important, like photos and memories.

I looked at the clothes strewn about the room and burst out in hysterical laughter. What am I going to do without you? I’m such a mess.

Marnie laughed even though her smile was sad. Web cams, she said. You're going to need a web cam.

The next morning, one hour after sunrise, I prepared to leave the house I grew up in. Mom was downstairs; I’d heard the kettle whistle earlier, telling me that she was already sitting at the table drinking her tea. I took the opportunity to sneak into my parent’s bedroom. I’d never been allowed inside. My parents had viewed their room as a sanctuary—one I wasn’t allowed to trespass into, but I’d snuck in a few times before and knew where Mom kept her emergency stash of cash. But today I wasn’t after money. I was looking for something of his.

I didn’t know what I was looking for, but once I laid eyes on it I knew it was what I wanted. I found it in his bedside table. The clay sculpture was clumsy and imperfect, and the blue paint was chipping. I’d given it to him for father’s day when I was ten. He’d smiled and hugged me tight and said he’d keep it forever. The sculpture, a quarter moon with a smile and a star sitting on its tail, was no bigger than my hand. I stole one of Dad’s sweaters from the closet to wrap the keepsake in, and then I stuffed both into my suitcase before exiting my childhood home.

Take care. Mom pressed a small, brown paper-wrapped package into my hands. I know you don’t normally write things down, but I bought you a journal—just in case.

I took the gift from her and squeezed her as hard as I could, but it wasn't enough to change her mind. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the passenger seat, on my way to a new life.

Leaning against the cool glass window of Grandma’s spotless vehicle, I stared at the mystical swirls of thick morning fog as we drove through Surrey and Vancouver, past the half-hidden sky-rises, and into the thick wooded area near the Horseshoe Bay ferry. I kept my horrible red hair hidden under my favourite beige hat. I pretended I was still the girl with happy parents, a best friend down the street, and a cute, almost boyfriend. I knew that it wasn’t true, and that everything had changed, but I couldn’t help but hope that in a couple of weeks everything would be back to normal: I’d be back home with Mom –without Dad and in a new house—but home all the same.

We arrived late at the docks and ended up stuck in a long line. We boarded the third ferry of the day. As soon as Grandma put the car into park on level six, I jumped out the door and ran up to the observation deck where I was hoping to have some alone time. The cool salty sea air hit my face with a wash of mist. My lungs welcomed the freshness. I leaned up against the rail, gripping the cold metal surface with both hands. The fog was beginning to lift, giving way to a thin layer of ash-grey cloud.

Beside the ferry dock was a small marina. Just past the line of white yachts was the highway that had brought me here. I looked to the west, where I was heading, and kicked the railing, looking down.

The waves lapped against the great berth of the ferry. The water began to churn as the engines were turned on. The frothy bubbles were hypnotic and I stared down into them, overcome with a frightening desire to jump in, sink to the dark depths. The ship's horn blared into life, nearly sending me tumbling over the banister and into the deep waters below.

Startling, isn't it?

I slapped the guardrail. Of course she would follow me. I glared at Grandma as she approached.

Just a bit. Couldn’t she see I didn't want her in my life?

She moved closer, standing beside me at the railing, proving she didn't know me at all. Nessa, you should know that no matter what, you’re fated to move to the island. Her ocean-coloured eyes were focused on the water rushing swiftly past us. The small, rocky, tree-capped islands began disappearing as the ship moved out of the bay and across the Strait of Georgia.

What do you mean? My stomach clenched, like I was expecting the worst sort of bad news.

Your mother told me you had an accident with a fire hydrant.

That wasn't my fault. I twisted my hands on the railing.

I know. Grandma stared at me, her eyes hawk-sharp. It’s just your nature. Things like that might occur from time to time. And your hair, what happened to it?

This question surprised me. Instead of asking what kind of fool I’d been to buy hair dye off the Internet, or if I'd been idiotic enough to try lightening my hair using hydrogen peroxide, she asked me what had happened to it.

She knew something.

It changed; all by itself. I didn’t do a thing to it. I even tried to dye it brown yesterday but it didn't work. I'm stuck with this hideous red hair. Dad would hate it. I reached up under my hat, pulling out a strand, glaring at the red-pepper colour.

I used to have dark hair too, when I was young. But when I inherited my powers, it turned red, just like your hair has. Now I think my hair is beautiful and wish for nothing else. You’ll get used to the colour, just like I did.

I paused, tilted my head to one side and briefly debated if I'd misunderstood her. Oh come on, I said.

Grandma turned and raised one quizzical eyebrow that told me she wasn't impressed with my attitude.

I sighed. Powers, Grandma? I'm not five. And I'm not in the mood for jokes or kidding around right now.

She kept that one eyebrow raised. I'm not kidding. It's time for you to learn the truth Nessa, and time you learn how to deal with it: you're a redheaded sea-witch. Just like me.

Chapter 4

Iwasn't sure if I'd suddenly become sea-sick, or if I simply wasn't feeling well because I'd just realized the grandma I hadn't seen in over five years was one-hundred percent crazy. I shook my head. There are no such things as witches. But as I said it, I shifted my gaze over the railing to the water below. The cauldrons of churned water were bubbling higher, reaching up the side of the ship, beckoning.

Stop it, Nessa.

I snapped my eyes back to her. I’m not doing anything.

She stepped closer, pressing her face to mine, whispering. There is one reason, and one reason only, why you must come to the island with me: if you don’t learn how to control your powers, you’ll be discovered. And if you’re discovered, they’ll come after you: governments, hunters, and those who think you’re putting our kind at risk. Now take a deep breath, calm down, and come inside with me.

Grandma wrapped five boney fingers around my upper arm, trying to guide me away. I wanted to throw her off, to shake off everything she said and go my own way, but I could feel the eyes of strangers on me. And if anything of what she said was true…What do you mean our kind? I felt my eyebrows knit in frustration. "I really don’t understand why you’re lying to me. My parents are normal. Dad was normal." My throat caught as I mentioned my father. There was no way he’d been a witch.

"I’m not lying to you. Yes, you’re parents are regular humans. But you’re not. Do yourself a favour: take a deep breath and picture a rainbow, a kitten, a chocolate—whatever will calm you down. She leaned closer to me. Everything will be alright, Nessa."

I forced myself to breathe the way Marnie would tell me to, deeply in and deeply out, calming myself down. Not because it was what Grandma wanted, but because I didn’t like the way strangers were looking at me. Thinking of Dad made me wear my grief on my face. I hated the looks of sympathy I’d been getting for weeks. Slowly, I regained my composure.

The churning around the base of the ship slowed. Grandma let go of my arm. She reached up to adjust the strap on her heavy-duty fabric purse, the kind that old ladies who traveled a lot always carried. Why don't we go inside? Maybe you’d like a cup of tea to calm your nerves?

I opened and closed my mouth, at a complete loss. I wanted to demand the truth. I wasn’t a witch…was I? Maybe tea was a good idea. I needed something to clear my head.

I followed Grandma silently into the ship’s interior. My stomach rumbled with hunger when I spotted the cafeteria. I grabbed what I wanted and quickly thanked Grandma, disappearing before she finished paying. I wanted, no, I needed an hour alone to think things over. I took my bottle of orange juice and a fruit and cheese plate, and went down one floor to the lounge, which was nothing more than a room full of uncomfortable chairs. I picked the darkest corner and sat down in the middle of an empty row, digging out my iPod and the vampire novel I had yet to start reading. All I needed right now was to not think. Not think about Dad, Mom, the move, my hair, the witch thing…

That's quite beautiful hair you've got.

I looked up. An older man with salt-and-pepper hair was standing beside me, casting a shadow over my book.

Th- I almost said it. I almost thanked him for commenting on the awful red hair that had found it's way out from under my hat—again.

It's not often you see people with hair like yours. He smiled at me, but his eyes were shifty. Magazine type horror-stories I'd read about girls who talked to strange men in strange places popped into my head.

I nodded, dropped my book in my lap and focused my attention on my iPod, slipping a headphone into my ear.

Is it natural?

Sorry, what? I pulled the headphone out, annoyed.

You're hair, is that your natural colour? The man gazed directly at me, piercing my eyes. My breath caught in my throat. His pupils were tiny pricks of black in grey irises that were so pale they were almost non-existent, giving him an alien appearance.

No, just a bad dye job. I muttered. This guy obviously doesn’t know how to read body language.

So, where are you going? He continued to stare intensely at my hair.

I tucked the loose strands away. Tofino.

Is that where you live?

I wish it wasn't. I looked around the half-empty seating area. Why had I been so quick to leave Grandma behind?

So, what part of town do you live in?

Whoa. I began shoving my belongings back into my purse. I didn’t say I live there. I stood up, tossing my purse over my shoulder.

His hand snapped out, wrapping around my wrist. I’m just a traveller looking for tips from locals, that’s all. He didn’t blink when he spoke. His body was eerily steady—something like a mannequin, or the Plastics from Doctor Who

Well, I don’t have any. I’m from Vancouver. I tried to pull my arm from him but he didn’t let go. He gripped harder. My skin began to burn. Let me go, I said, my breath ragged.

Nessa? What’s going on?

As quick as lightening the man released me, turning toward Grandma, who’d just come down the stairs into the lounge. The girl was a bit unsteady. Tiny bit of seasickness, I’d say. Should go away shortly. He slid out of the aisle and vanished up the stairs.

Nessa? Grandma asked.

I shook my head. I’m okay. He was just a bit creepy, that’s all.

Are you sure? Maybe I should go report him to security. Grandma stared at the space the man had vacated, her eyes narrowed.

If you want, I said, pushing the incident out of my mind. I didn’t need anything more to think about. The pain of losing Dad was enough to fill me up—or empty me out—I wasn’t sure which. Losing Mom was almost as bad. It was all I had room for. I sat back down in my seat and pulled out my book. I don’t think he’ll come back. Not with you here. I opened up my book and began reading. Any other world had to be better than this one.

How much longer? I asked. We’d only been off the ferry for half an hour and were currently heading into the middle of nowhere.

Three hours. Grandma drove perfectly for someone who was probably suffering from dementia. But it'll be a lot longer if you keep refusing to talk about it.

I raised an eyebrow and searched for evidence of craziness: shifting eyes, twitches, shortness of breath, mutterings. "What's there to talk about?

The fact that you're a sea-witch. You have yet to acknowledge the truth of what I told you. Grandma shook her head the exact same way Mom did when she was disappointed in me. I expected more from you, Vanessa Maxine. Though when you were born, I didn't expect anything at all since your mother didn't inherit the gene.

I shook my head. You're crazy...or kidding...or something. Witches don't exist.

"So you crashed the car into the fire hydrant then? You dyed you hair with some awful chemical product purchased on the Internet?"

My temper flared. No! Neither of those things were my fault.

Then explain them. Grandma’s hands closed tightly around the steering wheel.

I...I can't.

Because you're a sea-witch. Because you're one of a handful of magical creatures on this planet and, as such, things happen that you can’t explain. She shifted her eyes to me for a moment. All I saw within their stormy blue depths was a clear, intelligent gaze.

Are you trying to lighten the mood and make me feel better because I'm stuck living with you for an indefinite amount of time? Because—just so you know—I don't need you to lift my spirits. I'm perfectly fine being who I am: a completely normal, non-witchy-person. Just like my parents.

She sighed deeply, steering the car around a curve on the road. I'm trying to prepare you for what lies ahead.

You're trying to prepare me for trees, rocks and endless ocean? Because I've never seen any of that before. I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. I'm perfectly okay with nature if that's what you mean.

As a sea-witch, you'll need a few years to learn all the facets of your gift. She spoke slowly, muffled, like she was talking through clenched teeth. And it will take a while for you to adjust to the new feelings and emotions you'll experience. The hardest part will, of course, be adjusting to not being normal anymore, and guarding a secret identity you can’t tell anyone from your old life about. But the reward will be great. You'll work as I do; protecting the sea from harm.

"Crazy..." I said in a sing-song voice.

Grandma growled softly. This is the truth Vanessa; your truth.

Prove it, I said, hoping to put an end to her nonsensical talk.

Fine, if that's what you need in order to believe, I will. Grandma veered left, turning off the highway and onto a side street. I slammed my hand into the door, trying to get purchase on anything I could in case she rolled the car—something she was likely to do at the speed she was going. But a short while later she slowed the car right down, and parked on the side of the road next to a deserted beach.

Get out, she said.

I looked fearfully at the abandoned expanse of sand. No. I'm not getting out.

Get out. She stepped out of the car, taking the keys with her. She slammed the driver's door. Cautiously, I followed her as she walked farther and farther out onto the beach. When she reached the edge of the water, she looked back at me, turned toward the ocean, raised her arms, and closed her eyes.

I watched her. Nothing happened. This isn't what I'd call proof, you know. I was just about to turn around and walk back to the car when I heard a crushing sound, which reminded me of my visit to Niagara Falls when I was eight.

The ocean rushed toward me, rising like a tsunami. I didn't have time to run. I didn't have time to take a single step before the water reached up and swallowed me whole. I panicked, fighting to reach the surface through the cold, wet blanket of the sea.

I barely had time to wonder if Grandma knew I couldn't swim.

Chapter 5

Istruggled to stay afloat in the overwhelming rip tide. I held my breath and did what every swim instructor I'd ever had told me to do: tried not to panic.

But I couldn't help it.

As the cold water pressed around my body, I gave into my urge to scream. I was silenced by a mouthful of salty seawater slithering its way into my lungs. Then, as quickly as it came, the sea retreated, dumping me unceremoniously on the wet, sandy beach. I landed hard on my knees and fell forward, coughing and heaving liquid from my lungs.

I think you're wrong about my being a sea-witch, I croaked once the coughing had subsided. I shivered as the wind blew through my wet clothing. My red hair swung forward and with dismay I realized my hat had been swept away by the rushing tide.

No, I'm right; you're a sea-witch. You just have no idea how to exercise your birthright. But, at the very least, you do believe that I'm a sea-witch now, yes?

I looked at Grandma with both anger and jealousy. Even though I'd seen the ocean swallow her whole right before it swallowed me, she’d somehow managed to remain completely dry. She wasn’t dripping wet. She wasn’t coughing and heaving. She looked immaculate in her linen pants and long grey sweater.

You sure are something, I'll give you that. Possibly a murderer. I can't swim, you know. And you lost my hat. Now what am I supposed to do with this horrible red hair?

Grandma crossed her arms, shaking her head. A sea-witch who can't swim is a disgrace, but a repairable disgrace at least. As for the hat, you'd better get used to not wearing it; your hair's beautiful and there's nothing you can do to change it. Now come on, I want to get home before dark.

No. I pushed myself up off the wet sand and began to pick smelly, pale-brown strands of seaweed off of my drenched navy hoodie.

No, what? Grandma looked down her nose at me.

I'm not going anywhere until you bring my hat back. I love that hat. I loved it before my hair turned this stupid red color. I'm not giving it up.

She raised one eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth rose to join it. It's just a hat.

I stood my ground firmly, assuming that Grandma couldn't move the earth, just the ocean. I don't care. It's mine. You can't decide to get rid of it just because you don't like it. What I wear isn't up to you.

Grandma walked past me and stopped. She looked over her shoulder and smirked. You're right. It's your hat and therefore your responsibility. However, I'm an old woman and that little demonstration of my powers has worn me out. I'm afraid if you want your hat back, you're going to have to call for it yourself.

Call for it? What do you mean?

You're a sea-witch Nessa; if you need something from the sea all you have to do is ask for it. Just remember to focus, the ocean needs clarity. Grandma walked up the beach to her four-door sedan, leaving me alone to talk to a billion gallons of seawater.

Great, I muttered, bending over to pick up a rock, throwing it at the water. Just great. In two weeks my life had gone from cozy beach bonfires with a potential boyfriend to being half-orphaned and nearly murdered by my own grandma who just happened to be a witch. I couldn't deny it anymore: Grandma had powers I could barely comprehend. The only thing that scared me more than Grandma was the thought that I had the same incredible powers burning through my skin.

I raised a hand to my forehead, wiping off the lingering water droplets. I searched the horizon for my hat, but saw no sign of it floating on the rolling waves of the bay. I looked toward the car and saw Grandma sitting behind the steering wheel, watching me like a judge at a figure skating competition. She waved her hand as if to say, Get on with it. I turned back to the water.

I felt like I was five again, wrapped in a blanket watching Star Wars with Dad on a rainy day. Whenever I’d watched Luke Skywalker command the force, I'd tried to do it too. I remembered trying to make the television remote magically fly into my hand. I remembered failing each and every time.

I took a deep breath and sighed. The only difference between those early attempts at becoming a Jedi and now was that my hair had turned red and my eyes had transformed from brown to blue. And apparently I was born to do this: to call to the ocean and ask for my hat back.

I lifted my arms up, emulating Grandma, pushing the thought that I was just as crazy as she was out of my mind. I tried to do exactly as she'd instructed. I thought: Ocean, bring me my hat back. As a sea-witch, I command you.

I opened one eye, peaking out at the calm, rolling water. My hat was nowhere to be seen. No rogue waves carried my hat on their crests.

Again, I held out my arms and closed my eyes. This time I pictured my hat: I imagined it on my head, I imagined it hanging on the back of my chair, I imagined holding it in my hands. Unbidden, the anger over losing my hat—after already loosing so much else—flooded my mind. Just give me my hat back, I thought, please.

Cold water splashed around my ankles. I gasped, dropping my arms as my eyes popped open. I looked down. The water had swelled up around me, and floating at my feet was my hat.

Slowly, I bent over, scooping it up. I stared at it. I turned it over, checking it for the sparkling heart Marnie had painted on the tag with fabric glue. The heart was right where it had always been. It was definitely my hat.

Has it sunk in yet, Nessa? I jumped; Grandma was at my side. I hadn't even heard her approach.

I stared at my hat, flipping it over in my hands again, wondering if Grandma had snuck up and thrown it at my feet when my eyes had been closed.

It's time to go. She turned her back and headed to the car. I followed behind her, numb.

I sat in the car: wet and confused. I sat for a good fifteen minutes before the cold became un-ignorable. I snapped back into the present, turning the heat on full-blast.

Grandma snapped the heat back off.

Do you mind? I reached out to turn the heat back on.

She turned it back off. I'm perfectly comfortable. I don't need the heat.

As soon as she placed her hand back on the wheel, I reached out and turned the heat on again. "Well, I'm freezing because someone let her granddaughter get swallowed by the ocean while she kept herself dry."

You could have kept yourself dry if you'd listened to me sooner.

I slipped my feet out of my shoes and plopped them on the dash. Grandma glared at the streaks of water my