Page 49 of Summer L.A.W.

“You shouldn’t be.” Her hand trembled as she reached for his wrist, fingers brushing the compass still clenched there. The metal burned faintly through his skin, but he didn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You called; I came.”

Her lips twisted in a weak smile. “You could have texted.”

Behind them, the witches were all talking at once. Magda was muttering about resonance loops, Sahara warning that the compass was “broadcasting,” and Rayna arguing that they should throw the damn thing into a containment circle before it fried the mansion’s circuits.

Joell barked, “Quiet!” The noise died instantly. She turned to Sahara. “Give it to me straight. Can we close whatever this is?”

She hesitated. “Yes. But not yet. The Sea Witch opened a channel through their link. Severing it too soon could drag one of them back under.”

“Which one?” Rayna asked.

No one answered.

The floor vibrated, rhythmically—one pulse, then another. Books shuddered on their shelves. The bowl of water beside Sahara sloshed over the rim and spilled across the table.

Lioness glanced toward the windows. “Please tell me that’s fog.”

It wasn’t.

Through the glass, waves rolled across the front lawn—real water, black and luminous, swallowing the grass inch by inch. The sea had found them.

Mason turned to Joell. “Guess we’re out of time.”

She drew a blade from inside her coat, etched with faint runes that glowed like embers. “Then we make time.”

The runes along Joell’s blade flared red as she planted herself between the windows and the others. “Positions!”

The witches flew into motion. Magda slammed both palms to the floorboards; golden sigils fanned out from her touch, tracing glowing veins across the wood. Rayna moved to the nearest wall, her hands sweeping in tight circles to stabilize the flickering wards. Sahara’s bowl shattered under the strain, sending water slithering toward the doors where it rose, hissing, to meet the incoming tide.

Lioness flipped open her sketchbook mid-stride, charcoal already in hand. “All right, sea cow, let’s see how you like this.” She drew so fast the lines smoked, spirals and anchors and waves twisting together until her sketch rose off the page. It looked like an ethereal barrier that braced itself against the oncoming surge.

Outside, the sea reared up. It wasn’t just water anymore. A shape took form inside the cresting wave. It seemed as if it were made of foam and shadow. Her face formed from storm clouds, and her eyes were twin abysses.

“The Sea Witch,” Magda breathed.

“How in the world—” Sahara muttered. Then she groaned. “She enlarged the ley line. Made it a channel.”

Crystal shuddered. The tether snapped taut, an invisible hook dragging at her chest. “She’s pulling me back!”

Mason caught her before she slid off the sofa. “Not happening.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, anchoring her to the physical world with sheer human stubbornness.

“She’s feeding on fear,” Sahara shouted over the roar. “She’s using it to strengthen the current!”

“Then starve her!” Rayna yelled. Her fingers sparked, weaving bright bands of ward-light that stretched like ropes across the room.

Crystal’s pulse thundered in her ears. The Sea Witch’s voice poured through the tether. “Mine… mine… mine…” Each word sounded like a tide pulling harder. She couldn’t fight it. Not with panic clawing at her throat.

Mason’s hand pressed to her cheek. “Look at me.”

She did.

His eyes were calm and steady, grounding, a still point in the chaos. “You said once the ocean listens to emotion. So, change the song.”

Her laugh was a broken whisper. “You’re quoting me now?”

“Damn right.” His thumb traced the corner of her mouth. “Fear’s not your element, sweetheart.”