Landlocked (A water witch novel) Read online

  Landlocked

  C.S. Moore

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  LANDLOCKED

  Copyright © 2013 C.S. MOORE

  ISBN-13: 978-0615-86478-5

  Cover Art Designed by Mae I Design

  Dedication:

  For the dreamers.

  Prologue

  It was late in the season, and a chill hung in the air. The sea was starting to become aggressive, as it always did this time of year. The churning water splashed against the rocky shore, sending sprays of white mist into the air for the full moon’s light to catch. A veteran boat captain might have thought the rough waters had come on a little early and much stronger than usual, and he would have been right. The ocean was as much a living thing as the creatures underneath its dark surface, and the ocean was in mourning tonight.

  As were the three glistening figures at the water’s edge.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Edmar?” one of the silhouettes whispered.

  The largest of the three, who stood closest to the water, ran both hands through his wavy hair, flexing his fingers around the tendrils. Tears filled his green-blue eyes. He turned to look at the others, his two most true and trusted friends. Moving toward them quickly, he snatched something from the slight woman’s grasp.

  As he gazed down at the bundle cradled in his arms, a sob escaped his lips. “There is a difference between want and need, Dylan. No, I don’t want to do this—but I need to.” He composed himself as the conviction of necessity helped him move forward. “Sylvia, do you have the medicine? All of you will need it.”

  “Yes, and don’t worry. If this is what you wish, we will make it happen,” she said.

  Edmar had a hard time meeting her eyes. Sylvia was one of the most striking creatures he had ever seen. With her thin muscular frame, long auburn hair, and glorious angel’s face, she so looked like—

  He shook his head, banishing the thought. “Remember, if it isn’t working, you’ve gone too far from home. The medicine can only do so much. Eventually you won’t need it.”

  The wind carried a chilling shriek to them, and they snapped their heads to the water.

  “You must go quickly, or we won’t be able to leave,” Dylan said, holding his hands out. Edmar allowed Dylan to take the bundle, it felt like it was his heart being emptied.

  “Go, now!” Sylvia urged as the hissing on the breeze sounded nearer.

  Edmar turned to the water and hesitated. He hurried back to Dylan and looked down into the face of the beautiful baby girl in his friend’s arms. She was sleeping soundly, her long brown hair falling in cascading waves around her. The only person he had ever seen more stunning was her mother. “I will see you again, my beautiful Maribel,” he whispered into her hair and gently kissed her soft cheek. “Do not fail me.” His words were razor sharp and could have stung Dylan and Sylvia if they hadn’t known him as well. He had every reason to threaten; she was their only hope.

  “We have given up our lives for her, for you. She will want for nothing, we will see to her safety and happiness. Now go, please go,” she begged. “You hear them stirring.”

  With one more wistful glance at the sleeping beauty, Edmar turned and dove into the water.

  Seventeen years later

  1

  I knew at once that I was dreaming. Two things made it glaringly obvious. First off, I was in the vast open water of the ocean, and I had never even been to a beach. Secondly, it was the same dream I'd had every night since I could remember. I floated on the surface of the water, not on a boat or a surfboard. Nothing was between my skin and the sea. The constant pushing and pulling of the water underneath me made it feel like the ocean was breathing. I was never more alive than when I was dreaming. I knew I should be happier when I was actually awake and really living, but I couldn’t help the excitement pumping through me as I took it all in. The sky never seemed quite so beautiful and infinite in my small town away from any real body of water.

  A dolphin surfaced next to me and gazed at me with intelligent eyes. In the back of my mind, I knew it wasn’t exactly likely that I'd swim with the dolphins outside of SeaWorld, but this was a dream, so I just nodded and took off. We swam along the surface side by side until he plunged. I submerged myself and followed. The salt water stung my eyes at first. But the feeling was fleeting, and after a moment, I could see as clearly as I did above the water. Very unlike the chlorine-ridden pool I swam in at school. No matter how long I kept my eyes open, they never got used to the chemicals. The dolphin had to surface for air before I did, but I followed him up.

  When we breeched the surface, a high-pitch shriek was hanging in the air. At first I thought it was the dolphin speaking, but when I glanced over, he was gone. The ocean was suddenly dark and menacing. Something my ocean never was. This was a new part of the dream. I’d never had a nightmare before, but my racing heart rate and crawling skin made me think I was having one. The screeching rose in pitch and volume, and the noise shot through me like an icy spear. The water began to bubble around me, and I couldn’t make myself move, too frozen with fear.

  My alarm clock saved me from my strange slumber. I shot up and pushed the sheets off. They felt too much like the water lapping at my body. Before I could fully wake up, Aunt Sylvia was through my bedroom door. Even though I saw her every day of my life, her beauty still took my breath away. She was graceful from head to toe, even when she was worried like now.

  “What’s the matter, Mari? I thought I heard you screaming,” she said, searching the room. What she was looking for I wasn’t sure; maybe a guy in a hockey mask wielding a machete.

  I scooted to the side of the bed and stretched my arms into the air, letting my too long hair fall down my back. “I’m fine, just had a bad dream.”

  She sucked in a breath and her brow stayed creased with worry. “A bad dream? What was it about?”

  I pursed my lips. Sylvia and Dylan didn’t like me talking about the ocean. They never really said it in so many words, but I learned early on that any talk of it was painful for them. My parents had died in a terrible boating accident, and it seemed like it was just too hard on them to hear me speak fondly of the waters that had taken my mom and dad from us.

  “Nothing really, it was stupid. I can’t believe it scared me,” I said, trying to ease her tension. I guessed it must be awkward for her to try and console an eighteen year old about a bad dream; especially when she never had to do it when I was a kid.

  Sylvia narrowed her eyes. Even if it had nothing to do with the topic that brought Sylvia pain to discuss, I still wouldn’t have wanted to recount the terrifying cries that had pierced through me while floating in the water. I shivered involuntarily at the memory. She didn’t press me further, for which I was grateful.

  “Well come down for breakfast.” She patted my back and ran her fingers through my hair. “Did you skip yesterday? Your hair is past the middle of your back.”

  I cringed at her tone. “Oops, I was in a hurry yesterday.”

  She tried to give me a stern look, but I flashed my most winning smile and she couldn’t keep a straight face. “All right I’ll help you. Are your scissors on the counter?”

  I followed her into my bathroom and got the sc
issors out of one of the drawers. I sat at the bench in front of my large vanity and brushed through the tangles.

  “Just a trim, or do want something wild?” She smiled.

  I had tried having my hair cut into a bob once, but it was way too hard to manage. Halfway through school my haircut had conspicuously lengthened. People didn’t notice the growth rate when it was already so long. “No, nothing crazy, you were right about the bob. Are you ever going to let me forget it?” Sylvia had told me bobs were cute and trendy but not for us.

  “I never let you forget anything, like the art exhibit today for example. What time does it start again?” she asked while snipping away.

  I watched the chocolate brown clippings slowly fall to the floor. I took in their length and guessed she was chopping off about six inches. Not bad for two days. “I think it starts at five thirty. I’ve got swim practice after school so you better pick me up at the pool so I’m not late.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  I had the bad habit of being late and I couldn’t seem to help it. I just lost track of time so easily. I was usually late because I was swimming. Making it to a swim meet or practice on time had never been too much of a problem for me, but everything else was a different story.

  With one last snip of the scissors, Sylvia straightened up. “There, now you’re presentable.” She leaned down to kiss my cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want to show anything at our booth?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have anything I want to show right now, besides how could I put my painting next to yours?”

  “Easily, yours are wonderful! Now hurry down to breakfast before you make yourself late for school.” She pointed to the broom in the corner with a knowing smile before she walked out.

  I sighed and snatched the broom up. It felt like I had spent half of my life sweeping up hair. Apparently we had some freak gene in the family and our hair grew ridiculously fast. Sylvia told me there was nothing wrong with me, but she treated the quirk like a dirty secret, telling me not to let anyone know about it. I swept up all of the loose strands, and threw them in the trash. I pulled out the stool to my vanity once again and sat in front of it, glancing at my reflection.

  My green-blue eyes were too large for my face and made me look like a walking anime character. I'd never particularly disliked the way I looked, but I knew I wasn’t near as beautiful as everyone told me. My olive complexion was a little too green, and even if I liked makeup, I would never have been able to find a foundation that matched my skin tone. I supposed my face could be pretty if everything wasn’t so exaggerated, too prominent of cheekbones, too button a nose, too full a lips; even my face shape looked a little too much like a heart. Maybe someone could pull off some of these attributes together, but all of them at once, I wasn’t sure. I thought all of my admirers were confusing attractiveness with peculiarity.

  My Aunt Sylvia, now she was the definition of beauty. She always told me that her looks were nothing compared to my mother’s, but I had a hard time imagining anyone as gorgeous as her. I tried not to dwell on my mother and father too much. Sometimes I thought I could remember their faces… but I knew that was impossible. Besides, the images my mind came up with were ridiculous. They couldn’t have possibly looked the way I tried to remember them. Probably just my subconscious trying to put fairy tale beauty on an ugly memory. If I had even one picture of the two of them, my brain wouldn’t conjure up glistening images of otherworldly beauties, but all of the memorabilia had been lost in the sunken house boat along with them.

  I huffed and wrapped my hair in a large bun on top of my head. I walked into my bedroom to get ready for the day. As one of the most notable fashionistas at school, I had quite the wardrobe, most everything I owned was covered in rhinestone or sequins. Clothes were one of the few normal teenage girl things that I loved, and with my aunt being an amazing seamstress and designer in her own right, most everything hanging in my closet was one of a kind. I grabbed a pair of minty blue shorts and a white eyelet top with ruffled details. It was spring and I wanted to dress like it. I slipped into my white stiletto sandals with Swarovski Crystal trimming and looked at myself in the mirror hanging on the back of my bathroom door. I preferred being bare foot. I had always hated wearing shoes. But if I had to I might as well wear a pair of fabulous heels.

  I glanced at the clock next to my bed and ran down to the kitchen, cursing under my breath. Dylan was at the stove.

  “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?” he teased.

  I sat at the breakfast bar and smiled before digging into a plate of poached eggs drizzled with olive oil.

  “Think that smile will always get you out of a pinch?”

  I chewed the food in my mouth and swallowed. “It might.” I flashed another grin.

  “It might,” he agreed before leaning against the counter. I’d never seen my uncle in a hurry; he had this easiness about him that was contagious. I relaxed for a moment before hearing Sylvia’s approaching footsteps. I stiffened and Dylan laughed.

  “You act like a firing squad is rounding the corner,” he whispered.

  I shoveled in the last bite of food from my plate before she got to the kitchen.

  “It would have been a firing squad if Maribel made herself late again,” Sylvia said without pause, grabbing the car keys off of the counter.

  I hurried after her, my heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor.

  “Don’t snap an ankle in those shoes, darling, being on time isn’t worth that.” Sylvia seemed to be on edge, but I was glad that she didn’t seem to be angry at me.

  I climbed into our silver Prius and clicked my seatbelt into place. Neither one of my drivers would even start the car until I was buckled in safely; sometimes I was sure they still thought of me as a four year old. Sylvia perched herself into the driver’s seat, started the car, and pulled out of our long driveway. She was always a cautious driver, but today she was more intent on the road than usual and I couldn’t figure out why she was so distant. We always chattered constantly, never censoring our thoughts or feelings whenever we were together. Well I had to censor some of the time, or I would talk about dreams that would hurt us both.

  “Is everything all right, Aunt Sylvia?” I asked.

  She bit her bottom lip and stole a quick glance my way. She looked like she was on the fence about something, though I couldn’t imagine what. “I’m just worried about your bad dream,” she said in an unsure voice.

  How could a nightmare make her worry so much? Were my aunt and uncle that ridiculously overprotective? “I’m fine really. You’re just freaked out because I’ve never had a bad dream before.”

  She hitched in a breath. “You’ve had a bad dream before, Maribel, just one other.”

  I looked at her incredulously. “I haven’t had one that I can remember. That was why I was so freaked this morning.” We were rounding the last corner of Main Street and my high school would be coming into view shortly.

  “Then I guess you were too young to keep the memory, but your last bad dream alerted us to…” She pinched the bridge of her nose with the hand that wasn’t on the wheel. “Your dreams are important.” She pulled up to the curb. Hers was the only car there, as most high school students weren’t still dropped off by their parents. Dylan taught me how to drive, but I hated it. Putting the car in park, she looked over at me. “Tell me what the dream was about, Mari,” she prompted.

  I opened my mouth to recant the dream, but closed it, unsure if I should.

  “I know it’s probably about the ocean,” she said, flinching on the last word. “Go ahead.”

  “Well at first it was a good dream. I was floating on the salty water looking at the sky…” Sylvia’s eyes flashed with something like longing before she closed them tightly. “I swam with a dolphin, I know it sounds silly—but when I surfaced, the dolphin was gone and it was just me and the ocean. Then I heard the shrieks...”

  Sylvia’s eyes flew
open. “Shrieks?”

  “Yes it was this eerie sound that seemed to, I don’t know, move through me or something. That’s all, just a noise. I guess I'm pretty easily frightened.” I laughed at myself, out loud it sounded as frightening as a paper ghost on Halloween. Sylvia didn’t laugh.

  She looked out the window into the park across the street. “You’ll tell me if you have another one, another nightmare?”

  “Um—sure. I just don’t get why you’re freaking so bad.”

  Her face composed itself all hints of foreboding gone, as if I’d imagined them there in the first place. “I’m not.”

  The bell rang out annoyingly. My eyes widened. Dang it. I was going to be late. “Don’t worry, this time it’s my fault.” She winked. “Now get going… and be careful.” I jumped out of the car and shut the door.

  At least I wasn’t the only one late. There was a boy hurrying to the doors, as well. He was tall and broad across the shoulders, much bulkier than the other teenage boys at school. And walked with a grace I was only used to seeing from Sylvia, but his swagger radiated confidence. It was obvious that this guy thought he was something else. Sun bounced off of his sleek dark hair making it shine like patent leather. None of those many things about him made my eyes linger. It was the fact that I knew every single person in school, and even though I had yet to see his face, I was sure that I had never seen him before. I had almost caught up to him (was he slowing his gate or was I imagining it) when Sylvia shouted out of the car window.

  “Make sure you walk to the pool with your friends. Don’t go anywhere by yourself, okay?”

  I waved my hand, letting her know that I understood.

  “I’ll be there at five sharp!” she continued.

  It was a good thing I had gotten used to my aunt and uncle’s embarrassingly overprotective shenanigans long ago, or I’d have wished that the warmth of my cheeks would set me on fire. It didn’t matter if he had slowed his gate or not, I slowed mine to a crawl so he couldn’t see who belonged to the crazy screaming lady. My change of pace didn’t save me. He glanced over his shoulder and even from forty yards away I could make out the huge smirk on his face. I skirted the front entrance and the rude stranger in favor of a side door. Between him sneering at me and the overly confident way in which he carried himself, I had no desire of running into him again anytime soon, whoever he was.