Page 29 of Summer L.A.W.

Crystal forgot the battle, the gills, the Sea Witch’s threat. She forgot everything but Mason.

And under the light of the setting sun and rising moon, Crystal let herself drown—not in fear this time, but in Mason’s strength and possibly love.

8

Sahara had claimed her usual spot at the long table, scrolls and grimoires stacked like defensive fortifications. She traced one finger down a page of cramped script, lips moving silently for a moment before she glanced up at the group.

“Here,” she said, tapping the parchment. “The records aren’t consistent, but the patterns are clear. Sea witches have been in human folklore for millennia, across nearly every coastal culture. Some were feared as monsters, some revered as protectors—but nearly all were women tied to the ocean’s raw power.”

Crystal bristled. “Raw power, huh? Sounds like my Royal Navy family.”

Sahara ignored her. “They command storms, winds, and waves. They can whisper to sea creatures, even birds. Magic for them is practical: charms, incantations, weather knots sold to sailors desperate to buy safe passage. And…” her eyes flicked toward Crystal. “They draw power from the moon. Especially during the full phase.”

Victoria groaned. “Wonderful. Saltwater Ursula with a lunar obsession.”

“Not Ursula,” Sahara corrected, holding up a hand. “The legends are dual. Half the tales describe them as destructive, like wrecking ships, drowning men, luring them with spells. But the other half? They’re guardians. Women betrayed, wronged, or heartbroken who transformed into sea spirits. Some benevolent. Some tragic.”

Magda frowned. “Enter Stan.”

“Who?” Crystal asked with a wry smile.

The rest of the witches who had witnessed her break-up meltdown laughed, glad to have their smart-ass Crystal back.

Sahara nodded. “Yes. There’s one called the Sea Witch of Block Island, said to be the ghost of a persecuted woman, haunting the coast, dragging ships down. In Norse tales, they’re shapeshifters. In Greece, there’s Circe—the daughter of the sun god Helios, and the Oceanid Perse, a sea nymph. Circe mastered transformation. She turned disrespectful sailors into pigs.”

“Transformation,” Crystal echoed, fingers brushing the damp gills behind her ears.

Joell leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And what exactly does that mean for our witch?”

Sahara shut the book with a soft thud. “It means the Sea Witch may not be lying. Crystal could be what some of the old stories warned about: a witch of the land touched by the sea. A dual nature. Human and not.”

The room went still.

Then Mason muttered from the corner, “Great. She’s half witch, half mermaid, and I’m the idiot who thought gills were the weird part.”

Lioness flipped a damp sketchbook onto the table. “Where is Rayna, by the way?”

Joell arched a brow. “Rayna’s been spending a lot of time at her brownstone in Brooklyn to be with Major Ex-files.”

“Convenient,” Mason muttered. “You’d think apocalyptic sea monsters would be on the group calendar.”

Just then, Rayna rushed in. “You’ll never believe what the Army’s covert paranormal group is looking at.”

“Let me guess,” Joell said. “A Sea monster?”

Rayna stopped in her tracks. “How did you know?” She dropped her bag onto the nearest chair, scattering a few of Sahara’s scrolls. “Sorry, I’m late. Adam called. His unit’s radar picked up something moving off Montauk. Too fast for a submarine, too small for a whale. They’re scrambling ships.”

Mason leaned back, arms crossed. “That’s comforting. Nothing like government ships poking the ocean with a stick.”

Joell’s gaze sharpened. “How close is it?”

“Close enough that they’re nervous,” Rayna said grimly. “The sonar pinged like it was Jaws, circling. Twice.”

Crystal’s stomach lurched. She pressed a palm against the table, suddenly aware of dampness beading along her skin. The glass of water in front of her trembled, ripples spreading in concentric rings.

Mason folded his arms. “You and your Major Ex-files are a bit late. We already flipped off a Siren and a Sea Witch.

Despite her unease, Crystal barked out a laugh, but it broke off when the pressure behind her ears throbbed again. She placed her hands over her ears, and the room muffled. For one wild second, she swore she heard her name whispered in the crash of distant waves.