Oceans & Potions

by Emery Belle

  Before we could swim out of the canoe, a fierce-looking merman with flowing brown hair and fiery orange eyes approached us. He was holding a three-pronged spear in one hand and what looked like a leather-bound book in another, and he and Sebastian exchanged a few words while I kept my gaze locked on the spear.

  After they finished speaking, the merman consulted his book and looked me over, then nodded to Sebastian and jabbed his spear toward my wrist. I shrieked and attempted to swim away, but Sebastian stopped me with a hand on my arm and a reassuring smile. He gestured for me to watch, then held out his own wrist and allowed the merman to press his spear into his skin; when he pulled his hand away, he showed me the small picture of a leprechaun’s pot of gold that had been etched into his skin. I held out my wrist reluctantly and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself against the inevitable pain, but was surprised when the spear passing over my skin felt like nothing more than a light, pleasant tickling sensation.

  The merman used his spear to tug up the handle of the bronze door, and when it popped open he swam backward a few feet so Sebastian and I could enter. As soon as we stepped inside, the water dried up immediately and our bubbles evaporated, and I took several deep breaths of air as we descended a short rope ladder to a heavy bronze gate guarded by two statuesque centaurs holding gold-tipped swords.

  As we approached, they crossed their spears over the gate, blocking our passage, and the one on the left said, “Your marks, please.”

  I frowned uncertainly at him, but Sebastian held out his wrist, then motioned for me to do the same. The centaur passed the tip of his sword over them, and the pot of gold etched into my skin burned bright green.

  With a satisfied nod, the centaur stepped back, and the gates swung open to reveal a long hallway that looked to have been carved from solid gold. I ran my fingers along the walls as I followed Sebastian down the hallway toward a leprechaun wearing a snazzy three-piece suit and sitting behind a high desk carved with an intricate four-leaf clover design. He was busy weighing two enormous piles of silver on an equally enormous gold scale and held up a finger as we approached. He took his time examining the scale, marked a series of numbers down in the ledger in front of him, then looked up at us from behind half-moon spectacles.

  “State your business.”

  “We need to access safe deposit box number 7359,” Sebastian said, holding out a slip of paper with the code Preston had given me. The leprechaun squinted down at the code, then slid down from his seat and motioned for Sebastian and me to follow him further down the hallway.

  We stopped in front of a heavy steel door carved with two handprints, and I watched in fascination as the leprechaun pressed his own hands against the prints on the door—they were a perfect match. The door creaked open, and the leprechaun ushered us through it before stepping back into the hallway, bowing low, and closing the door carefully behind us.

  I looked around, expecting to see rows of safe deposit boxes lining the walls, but the room was completely empty save for a small glass stand in the middle of the floor bearing one tiny box. Sebastian was already walking toward it briskly, and I hurried to catch up, standing beside him as he held his wand over the box and traced out the numbers of Preston’s code.

  The box emitted a series of whirls and clanks before it popped open and filled with a glowing white light that brought stars to my eyes. The light faded almost immediately to reveal the box’s roomy interior, which was stuffed full of bundles of paperwork tied together with string.

  The topmost papers featured sketches of yeti women posing in sleek evening gowns, and I rifled through the piles until I came to a series of drawings I immediately recognized as the color-changing furs that debuted at the Snow Bunny Fashion Show. Pinned to the drawings was the contract that Preston had mentioned, and I flipped through it to find, just as he promised, two signatures—his and Emeril’s.

  “Looks like Preston was telling the truth,” I said, folding up the contract and tucking it into my pocket for safekeeping.

  Preston hadn’t given me explicit permission to remove the contract from the safe deposit box, but now that I’d seen it, I knew I needed to find a way to slip it into Kellen’s hands… without him knowing it had come from me, of course. The contract didn’t outright prove Preston’s innocence, but it would go a long way toward dismantling his supposed motive for wanting Emeril out of the picture.

  I replaced the contents of the box and closed the lid, and after Sebastian retraced the code over it we made our way out of the safe deposit room and past the leprechaun, who was so entranced by the new pile of gold he was stuffing onto the scale that he barely registered our departure. Back up the ladder, we waved goodbye to the merman and climbed into the canoe, and before long Sebastian was helping me onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk once more.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to tug my hand away, but he kept his fingers wrapped around mine, his honey-brown eyes sweeping over my face. I gave him an awkward grin and squirmed uncomfortably, and when I tugged my hand away again, he let go, though a look of reluctance crossed his face.

  He didn’t say a word as we strolled back down the boardwalk, and I chattered on like a chimp who’d drunk one too many watermelon whiplashes to cover the awkward silence. When we reached the end of the shops, dodging out of the way of an ogre peddling what looked like genuine eyeballs out of a dirt-covered cart, Sebastian led me down the boardwalk stairs to the golden sand below.

  He walked toward the water, which was clear as glass on this glorious late-summer day, and stared out at the horizon, where a few sailboats were bobbing gently in the light breeze. I stood beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, and could feel the nerves rolling off him like waves.

  “I know I have a bit of a… reputation,” he said after a time, still keeping his eyes trained on the boats, “but I like you, Wren, and I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime. Would that be okay?”

  I gazed down at my feet and traced my toe along the waterline, where hundreds of miniscule crabs, glittering in the sun, were burying themselves in the sand as the water crashed over them. I tried to imagine myself out on a date with Sebastian, camped out in a cozy corner of a romantic restaurant while he held my hand across the table, but, in my mind, his face kept getting replaced with someone else’s. I drew a breath, and his shoulders tensed, as if he knew what was coming.

  “I’m flattered,” I said softly, chancing a glance over at him, but he was still staring forward resolutely. I knew I needed to choose my next words carefully—not only did I want to let him down easily, but at the end of the day, Sebastian was my coworker, and I couldn’t let things get awkward between us or else Sandrine would be the least of my problems at the office. “But I just got out of an eight-year relationship before I came to the island… and let’s just say it didn’t end well. I’m not really in a place right now to start dating someone. I hope you can understand.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either.

  Sebastian was quiet for a long time, and I had just started squirming uncomfortably again when he said, so softly I could barely hear him, “I understand.” He gave me a swift smile. “I’ve got to get back to the office… those obituaries aren’t going to write themselves, you know.”

  And before I could say anything else, he turned and walked away, kicking up clouds of sand around him as I wondered, ever so briefly, if I’d just made a mistake.

  Squawks, growls, snorts, and guffaws greeted my ears as I pushed open the door to Talons and Tailfeathers and wormed my way around the various cages and kennels toward Hunter and Garnet, who were leaning over a tank filled with gelatinous creatures glowing orange and sporting spikes the size of my hand.

  “Good, you’re here!” Garnet said excitedly, throwing her arm around me as I joined them. “The manager wanted to wait until you arrived before we started the selection process.” She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me over to the front counter, where a short, plump little wizard
with a bad combover and a green mole on his chin sat idly stroking a gorgeous gray cat, who was purring happily.

  “G’day!” he said when he looked up and saw the three of us standing eagerly in front of him. “Welcome to Talons and Tailfeathers. I’m Frank, and I’ll be helping you through the familiar selection process.”

  He climbed heavily out of his chair and headed toward the back of the store, the cat prancing behind him, and led us into a small, plain room completely empty other than a folding chair. “It’s so there aren’t any distractions,” he said when he saw me looking at it. “Some of our animals get a little… excited… during the selection process, and we don’t want things to get out of hand.”

  He shook his head and muttered something to himself about liabilities, and I swallowed back a ball of anxiety that had formed in the back of my throat. Just what kind of animals were we going to be dealing with here? I glanced over at my classmates—Hunter also looked like he’d swallowed something particularly unpleasant, but Garnet’s whole face was lit up with excitement as she practically ran to the chair and plopped herself into it.

  “Can I go first?” she asked, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “I’ve been waiting for this day since I got my first toy wand, and they”—she waved her hands dismissively toward Hunter and me—“have only known what a familiar is for about two seconds.”

  Under normal circumstances I might have been a little insulted, but nothing about this day—or this island—was normal, and, to be fair, she had a point. Hunter looked at me and shrugged, and I nodded to Frank to show that we agreed.

  “Very well,” Frank said, snapping his heels together smartly. He whipped out his wand and tapped Garnet on the head three times with it while murmuring words in an indecipherable language. The tip of his wand glowed a brilliant purple, and soon Garnet’s face took on the same color.

  “What are you doing?” I asked nervously as Garnet levitated a few inches off the chair.

  “Testing her aura,” Frank said, frowning at me. “Now be quiet, or you’ll alter the integrity of my reading.”

  Garnet glared at me and pressed a finger to her lips, and I fell back beside Hunter, who shot me an amused look. Frank continued with his aura reading, circling Garnet and waving his wand over her head until he stepped back, looking delighted, and said, “I have just the right familiar for you! Wait here.” He hurried from the room, the cat hot on his heels, and Garnet practically thrummed with feverish excitement as we waited for him to return.

  A few minutes later, the door opened and Frank bounded back in, followed by a rush of air as a huge, skeletal birdlike creature with red leathery wings soared in after him. I immediately recognized the creature as the same type that had been perched in the tree above The Feisty Frog when I’d gone there to meet Cole, and I turned to Garnet to gauge her reaction only to find her mouth hanging open and her eyes shining with happiness.

  “A nightswallow,” she breathed, stepping forward to brush her hands over the creature’s wings. “He’s so beautiful.”

  “Newly hatched,” Frank said proudly as the nightswallow spread his wings and began preening himself. “We’ve had his egg incubating for nearly a decade now, and he only made his appearance a week ago.” He grinned at Garnet. “Now I know why… he was waiting for you.” The creature opened his mouth and let out a squawk of agreement, and Garnet clapped her hands in delight.

  “Do you think he’ll let me ride him?” she breathed, circling the nightswallow.

  He sat back on his haunches and spread his wings, allowing Garnet to clamber onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his bony neck, then shrieked as he took flight rather suddenly, soaring around the room in circles until gently landing again and allowing Garnet to slide off his back. She patted his head, and he let out a low, rumbling purr that sounded almost catlike before he stood to attention, his wings tucked at his sides, and looked at Garnet with an eager gleam in his eye.

  “He wants a treat,” Frank said, sliding his hand into his pocket and removing a tin of sardines. He tossed one to the nightswallow, who caught it in mid-air and tipped back his head to swallow it whole. Then, before Frank could pluck out another sardine, the nightswallow lurched forward, seized the entire can, and, with a squawk of happiness, downed the entire thing—metal and all—in the blink of an eye.

  “I’m going to name him Midnight,” Garnet said, stroking the nightswallow’s bony neck while he made a series of alarming hacking sounds before regurgitating the empty sardine can directly onto my foot. Frank bustled around writing up Midnight’s paperwork while Hunter settled himself into the chair, looking excited. A few minutes later, Frank was reading Hunter’s aura while a soft blue glow enveloped his face.

  “Hmm, this one’s a little tougher,” Frank said, screwing up his face in concentration while Hunter levitated off the chair. “You’re a bit of a closed book, aren’t you? Not like your friend over there, who wears her emotions right on her sleeve for everybody to see.”

  He tipped his head toward Garnet, who was so engrossed with her familiar that she didn’t even register Frank’s words. A soft look crossed Hunter’s face as he watched Garnet dragging a toy mouse around on a string in front of Midnight while he pranced and lunged after it. When he finally caught it, he presented it back to her with a distinct look of pride on his skeletal face.

  Frank snapped his fingers to draw Hunter’s attention back to him, then tapped him on the head three more times with his wand. The blue glow around Hunter flickered for a moment and then burned brighter, and Frank’s face lit up.

  “I’ve got it!” he said, hurrying out of the room. We heard him rummaging around in the store for a few minutes before he returned, looking rather pleased with himself. At first he seemed to be empty-handed, until a closer look revealed a lizard on his shoulder that had taken on the exact color, pattern, and texture of his shirt.

  “This here’s Dolly, and she’s a doppelganger,” Frank said, sidling up to Hunter so the creature could transfer onto his shoulder. As soon as Dolly touched Hunter’s plaid shirt, her skin morphed to match its pattern, with the exception of her tail, which had brushed up against Hunter’s hair and now sprouted identical brown fuzz.

  “She’s a special girl,” Frank said, tickling the doppelganger under her chin with his pinky finger. She let out a hiss and rubbed up against him with her cheek, which faded in color to match his sallow skin. “She’s one of the most intelligent creatures I’ve ever had the pleasure of raising. Eager to please, too, and always looking for a job to do. I reckon she’s going to be downright useful to you once she starts her training.”

  He watched Dolly fondly as she scurried around Hunter’s shoulders, at one point climbing right up the back of his neck and perching on top of his head while looking around the room with interest. By now, I was growing more excited and impatient by the minute—if Hunter’s and Garnet’s familiars were such amazing creatures, what was in store for me?

  Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. Frank pulled his gaze away from Dolly and focused his attention on me, and I practically ran to the chair in the middle of the room and plopped into it. The wizard pulled out his wand, tapped my head three times, and murmured the words to reveal my aura, which turned out to be a brilliant orange color that cast the entire room in a vivid glow.

  As I hovered over the chair, Frank circled around me, his brow furrowed in concentration, until he let out a delighted gasp and dropped his wand to his side. I dropped back down to the chair—hard—and winced as a burst of pain seared through my bottom.

  “Sorry!” Frank gasped, his hand on his chest. “I didn’t mean to release you so quickly… but I’m all of a dither! Oh, I can’t believe this… the time has finally come. Just wait until I tell him, he’ll be so excited…”

  Frank’s enthusiasm was infectious, and by the time he bounded out of the room, still muttering happily to himself, my insides were squirming with excitement. Even Hunter and Garnet managed to pry their eyes away from th
eir familiars long enough for Frank to come back, his cheeks colored with pleasure, a long leash trailing from his hand to reveal, on the other end of it… a dog?

  And not just any dog. Quite possibly the ugliest dog I’d ever seen in my life.

  He was short and squat, with a bloated stomach that swayed dangerously close to the ground and stubby legs covered in so many rolls of fat they were barely recognizable as legs. His fur was a muddy brown color that grew in uneven patches, sticking up wildly in some places and completely barren in others, giving off the effect that he had just stuck his paw in an electrical socket. His face was round and puffy, and boasted a snub nose, an alarming underbite, and a fat pink tongue that lolled out of the side of his mouth, dripping great strings of saliva onto the floor.

  “What is this?” I asked in mild horror as the dog suddenly let out a great sigh and plopped down on his side, his jowls spread all around his face like jelly. He looked up at me with warm, liquid brown eyes as his nose sniffed the air hopefully, no doubt hunting for treats.

  “This is Pierre,” Frank said, bending down to stroke the dog’s head. “He’s our longest resident here at Talons and Tailfeathers… going on twenty years. I was afraid he’d never find his witch or wizard… and yet here you are.”

  He grinned at me while I stared back at him, and then around at the doppelganger and nightswallow, certain there had been some kind of mistake. Hunter and Garnet were watching me with a mixture of pity and amusement, which I swear was echoed on their familiars’ faces. The nightswallow stepped forward with a squawk, bent his head curiously toward Pierre, and nipped at his tail. The dog didn’t even lift his head, just thumped his tail lazily against the ground, his nose still twitching a mile a minute.

  “But there must be some mistake,” I said, a tickling sensation crawling unpleasantly up the back of my throat. “I’m allergic to dogs.”