Page 33 of Summer L.A.W.

“Crystal—”

“I’m not her,” she said sharply, almost a snarl. “I’m not. I won’t be.”

Mason didn’t flinch. He reached out, steady as always, brushing wet strands of hair from her cheek. “Then stop trying to fight it alone.”

Her hands trembled where they clutched the blanket. For one reckless moment, she wanted to bury her face in his chest and believe him. Believe that she wasn’t drowning inch by inch.

Instead, she whispered, “What if the ocean’s right, Mason? What if I’m both?”

He looked at her for a long moment, then pulled her against him anyway. “Then I guess we figure it out. Together.”

The Coast Guard cutter pitched hard over the waves, spray drenching them. The crew looked none too happy to have a handful of witches aboard, and even less thrilled at the silver-tipped seagull pacing across the deck.

“Navy’s already filing this under ‘not our circus,’” Mason muttered, gripping a rail as the cutter heaved again. “They punted it straight to the Coast Guard.”

“Better for us,” Rayna said crisply. “Less oversight, fewer brass breathing down our necks. Just one small, easily capsized boat between her and us.”

Lioness crouched at the bow, sketchbook open, eyes narrowed to slits against the wind. “She’s close. Testing us again. Like a cat pawing at a fishbowl.”

Sahara checked the compass in her lap. The water inside pulsed darkly, beating like a heart. “East by northeast. Moving fast.”

The lookout above shouted, “Something big off the port side!”

Every head snapped toward the horizon. A swell rolled higher than the rest, not cresting but rising, carrying something vast beneath it.

Crystal felt the pull in her chest, the throb in her ears, the whisper of her name in the crash of the ocean. Her hands gripped the rail until her knuckles went white. “She’s here.”

Mason snaked his arm around her waist and held her tight to his side.

The swell broke. Something long and pale sliced through the water, kelp-hair streaming, eyes black and menacing. The Sea Witch rose with the wave. Her gaze fixed on the cutter, she grinned like it was prey.

The ship lurched sideways as the swell hit, men shouted, witches scrambled for balance. Salt water slammed across the deck.

Lioness’s pencil snapped. “Yeah,” she muttered grimly. “We definitely know where she is now.”

The cutter’s engines screamed as the captain fought the helm. “All hands, brace!”

The prow knifed into the next swell, but the wave didn’t break. It rose, coiling. The Sea Witch’s laughter rolled across the water like thunder. A wall of seawater surged toward them, taller than a house.

“Mag shields! Now!” Rayna barked.

Sahara and Joell slammed their palms together, a lattice of orange-gold light erupting over the bow. The wave hit like a bomb. Spray blasted sideways, and the shield held, but barely.

“Again!” Crystal shouted. Her own magic roared to life, a whirlpool of aquamarine light. She flung it outward, trying to turn the Sea Witch’s current aside. For one heartbeat, the ocean obeyed her. Then the Sea Witch caught her spell in both hands and twisted.

Pain stabbed through Crystal’s chest as her power was yanked taut.

“She’s using your link,” Mason realized. “Cut it, Crystal!”

“I can’t!”

The Sea Witch rose higher, dripping fury, her body half water, half woman. The air itself hummed with salt and rage. Kelp streamed from her arms like ribbons, and from her mouth poured a torrent of words in no known tongue, but every syllable sounded like a curse.

Lioness slammed a fresh page onto her sketchpad, charcoal flying. “Buy me thirty seconds!”

“Thirty?!” Rayna shouted over the wind. “I’ll give you ten!”

The witches braced shoulder-to-shoulder. Magda thrust both hands toward the sea, drawing runes that glowed like green fire. Sahara whispered something ancient, and the compass in her lap blazed white, sending a spear of light at the dark water.