Perhaps it came down to simply having someone beside her, after being alone for such a long time. She hadn’t slept that well during previous flirtations. No, there had to be something about that merman. Those hazel eyes drew her in and seemed to sparkle with delight as she showed him how things worked in her world. It was unexpectedly charming.
As Tempest stared out toward the sea, she scanned for any signs of wildlife in distress. All seemed to be still and calm around them; nothing out of the ordinary. Elliot listened for anything out of the ordinary, and she knew his sea lion hearing would catch even the faintest sound. Most of their day passed uneventfully, which she always had mixed feelings about.
“Do you hear that?” he asked suddenly, jerking his head to the left.
She closed her eyes and focused all of her attention on her ears. “There’s…a lot of splashing?”
“It’s coming from that direction,” Elliot pointed, turning the boat.
Beneath them, the clear blue waters seemed unusually quiet. The squawk of seagulls had died down and the schools of fish she could usually see were scarce. Then she saw the reason. A shark pup had gotten beached on a sandbar and none of its family were too large to get close enough to free her.
The little shark let out a wail as she tried to dig her fins into the patch of sand and shimmy her way back into deeper waters. A larger shark, most likely her mother, kept circling in hopes of finding a better angle with which to reach her.
The presence of their frenzy had disturbed all other nearby sea creatures—too many predators in a small space. Tempest watched as another juvenile shark attempted to free the pup, getting closer than any of the full grown sharks, but ultimately failing.
Tails and fins thrashed as they tried to figure out what to do and grew more anxious. She realized, upon closer inspection, that they were Atlantic Sharpnoses. This smaller shark species had big eyes and a long snout, giving it a rather comical look.
They thrived in shallower waters and dined on little fish, traveling in large groups but rarely causing trouble for anyone around them
“We have to do something,” she whispered to Elliot as they approached. “They can’t do it on their own.”
“I’m worried they might not let us get close enough,” he replied in a hushed tone.
“They’re so agitated,” Tempest frowned as they shut off the engine and came to a stop.
“What do you want to do?” Elliot asked, catching her eye.
As Tempest leaned over the edge of the boat to get a count of thesharks, a fin came up entirely too close for comfort. She tumbled back into the boat, landing on her bottom and her palms rather roughly.
“I think it’s safe to say this is one of the few times your shifter form will not help us in our mission,” she said finally, exhaling a long sigh. “But we have to do something.”
He frowned. “You’re probably right.”
“What if…what if I could make it storm enough to cause the waves to crash?” Tempest asked slowly, catching sight of a few scattered clouds to their north.
“Do you think you could get the waves high enough to free her?” Elliot looked hopeful as he spoke.
The last time Tempest had attempted a similar rescue, she had not been able to produce enough of a storm to rock the seas the way they had needed. In the last few days, she’d caused two major thunderstorms. Her emotions were wound tightly, ready to spill over at any moment.
Maybe this time, she could pull it off. Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on the idea of getting home tonight to find Reed had not returned. Tempest let herself really explore the deep loneliness that had taken hold of her the other day, before Reed had turned up on her beach and calmed her storms.
Her sadness bubbled up inside her like a cauldron about to boil over. The desire for companionship and love, the way her family seemed to purposely misunderstand her. Tempest clenched her fists and let the tears fall down her cheeks.
Just when she thought her magic wasn’t enough, a single drop of water landed on her forehead. Then two more, before they picked up speed. Droplets of water hit her nose, her ear, her neck as she tilted her face to the sky. The low, distant crack of thunder sounded and her eyes snapped open.
“There,” whispered Tempest, looking at the clouds that had turned dark and grey.
She touched the necklace that lived just below the neck of her wetsuit, seeking comfort from the little spiral seashell she kept there. The very first time she had caused a storm, when she was nearly seven years old and her mother had insisted it was time to leave the beach, she had found that seashell sitting on the sand.
There it had been, like a gift from the sea. Revealed by the receding tide, she had snatched it up in her grubby little hands, tucking it into a pocket to keep her mother from finding it. For little Tempest, when she couldn’t convince her mother to take them to the beach and let her play in the water, it had been a small comfort.
A piece of the sea she could keep with her always. The pearl had been added later, a treasure she had found when getting certified in snorkeling. The steady weight of them against her collarbone brought her comfort.
Now, she tugged it out of her wetsuit and worried the shell with her thumb, rubbing it gently to feel the ridges. The clouds grew larger, the wind picked up, and the rain grew heavier in a matter of moments.
“It’s working,” the awe in Elliot’s voice made her heart leap.
Tempest pulled at her memories, thinking about all the times she had been stuck inside their little house helping with herbs and remedies. All the days she had dug in the soil and planted seeds for next year’s fresh produce, healing salves, and the other tools of her mother and sisters’ trade. She knew what they did was important, and the people of Crescent Cove relied on them for their wellbeing.
