The Sea Witch and the Mermaid (The Seaforth Chronicles Book 3)

by B. J. Smash

  That name I did not approve of. It sounded like he was calling me poop. Maybe he was. Ian had called me “Number Two” the entire boat trip, implying that Ivy was number one, that she was more advanced. I had been mad at him, as I am second to no one.

  I thought now that I might try to convince him to call me by my real name. “Mr. McCallister. You can just call me Zinnia.”

  “Just call her Zinnia,” Ivy whispered, almost pleading with him.

  “I suppose I can do that. And you—you must call me Ian. I don’t like to be called Mr. McCallister. It makes me sound like an old man. Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We do.” He was no old man, and he was quite a handsome middle-aged man. I think he was like thirty-eight or something.

  “All right then, Zinnia. Take a seat,” Ian said. “Or maybe I’ll call you Zin. It rhymes with sin.”

  To this, Ivy whacked him on the arm.

  “Ouch!” He smirked and rubbed his shoulder.

  I pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table from Ian, and sat down. My butt sank into the velvety cushion, and I was reminded of one of the ballrooms that the Fae kept right on the ocean side of Merribay. Set into the side of the mountain, it was half in the earth and half out. The glass dome, which was around five stories high, came out from the ceiling and down to the earth. You could see the ocean from inside this building, and when the moon was full it would reflect off the water and glisten like diamonds.

  When the moon was full, they threw a ball to celebrate it. The benches along the wall were lined with burgundy cushions even more plush than this. The dancing was continuous, and the music filled you with such joy and elation that everyone had a wonderful time. Once in a while the little folk, who don’t like to be called “little folk,” as they preferred to be called fairies, flew around and enjoyed themselves partaking of the tastiest of foods. The Fae and little folk enjoyed the foods by scent and essence, oftentimes not actually eating any of it. Sometimes their wings lit up, reminding me of fireflies. One of my favorite features: they had tiny dragons. They weren’t very big, maybe the size of a kitten or puppy, and there weren’t very many of them. They would get food from the buffet tables and bring it to you.

  “So,” Ian said, pulling me from my reverie. He paused, and he leaned his elbow on the side of his chair and fidgeted with his bottom lip. He was deciding on his words. “Tell me. How is life on Magella’s boat?”

  Ivy rolled her eyes and slouched down in her chair. I knew she thought he was being rude for asking, but I didn’t expect him to sugarcoat his words.

  “It could be better,” I said.

  “Yes, one would think anything would be better than living with that old sea witch. I could think of a thousand things I would prefer to do,” Ian said, but he was only getting started. “Lie on a bed of nails, walk the plank of doom on a pirate’s ship, sleep on a bed of coals, unroll toilet paper rolls and then roll them back up, eat sardines for a year—actually, I like sardines, so that may be cheating. But maybe not after eating them for a year straight—”

  Ivy, embarrassed, interrupted him by plopping her arms on the table and burying her head. “Oh my gosh,” she said, exasperated, her voice muted from hiding her face.

  “Well…she made her bed, and now she must lie in it,” Ian concluded.

  I thought about rolling his paper up and hitting him with it. And yet, he thought he was talking to the old Zinnia. How could he possibly know that Magella had already broken my spirit? I knew his kind all too well. He was assessing me, trying to see my reaction. Unfortunately for him, I had what I called a “criminal’s mind.” Nothing I was too proud of anymore. But I could read a person instantly and gauge what they were thinking. At any given time, thirty or forty ideas and explanations would flow through my mind, and within seconds I would pinpoint and pick out the exact thing he or she wanted to hear. Usually the best ideas were highlighted in a yellow aura. Right now, he wanted to see if Magella had broken me. He wanted to see if I would stand my ground, and he also was expecting snotty Zinnia to answer. Too bad for him, I wasn’t snotty anymore.

  People can change.

  I ignored my thoughts this time and just said, “It’s not fun. You are correct.” But then I couldn’t help myself. “I myself like sardines. They aren’t bad. And I would prefer to unroll toilet paper rolls and then roll them back up, or maybe even hang upside down in the valley and let the vultures pick at the bottoms of my feet…than live with Magella.”

  He stopped fiddling with his bottom lip and he furrowed his brow, tilting his head to get a better look at me. He then burst out into laughter and hit the arm of his chair. Ivy jerked her head up from the table to observe him.

  “I see she hasn’t broken you yet.” He smiled. “That could be a good thing. You hang in there, Number Two—er, Zinnia. If it were me, I would have jumped ship by now.”

  I could tell that he knew I was not the same Zinnia. That I had maybe changed. In his own way, he was being civil or even…nice. He did surprise me with the next thing he said. “Maybe after your year is up, you can come to the good side, and you can work for me.”

  My lungs burned as we spoke. I doubted that I’d live the year through, and so his suggestion went in one ear and out the other. Besides, he’d probably have me working below Ivy as a helper. No way.

  But this made my sister relax and smile. She smoothed her hair and sat back in her seat. I knew he was trying to give me hope, and so did she. My sister wasn’t the best at reading people. She was an innocent. She always expected people to be good, and was surprised when they weren’t. I, on the other hand, had always expected the worst and received the worst.

  “Will you be staying for lunch?” he asked us.

  “Oh…no. We are going into the forest right now. We might stop by and see Izadora,” Ivy said.

  To this, I slightly squinted my eyes and bit the insides of my cheek. I had never agreed to go visit Izadora. That was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Ian saw the slight change in my appearance. He was quick, and I had to think that nothing ever escaped Ian. It would be hard for someone to pull the wool over such a man’s eyes.

  “You girls stay away from the white bridge,” he said jokingly, but he looked thoughtful as he smoothed his eyebrow.

  “We shan’t be going that way.” I smiled.

  “Oh no—of course not,” Ivy piped in.

  We all knew what the white bridge signified—possible freedom, but more than likely doom. The white bridge was one of the ways into the world of the Fae. Or, if you’d rather, fairyland. The bridge was a passageway over the brook. I had found out that they could not cross the water without the bridge, and it was beyond me why no one, namely Izadora, had not had it destroyed. Maybe it was not within her power to destroy it?

  “Nope. We shall steer clear of there.” She nudged my arm. “You ready?”

  I nodded my head and stood up, pushing the chair back in. My sister did the same, and we walked over the smooth white marble floor and left through the fancy French doors that led to the garden.

  I glanced once, just slightly over my shoulder, to find that Ian was watching us leave. I knew one thing for certain: he didn’t trust me.

  Chapter Three

  The garden was strange. It defied all laws of nature. Plants that should be dead and gone were thriving. Lush green plants and jewel-colored flowers dotted the bushes. We had walked past a bench and then down a long path with many winds and bends. My sister continually looked over her shoulder as though she expected someone to follow us.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She turned to look at me, her golden hair shifting on her shoulders. “Oh, nothing,” she lied. Her eyes were wide and just as beautiful as two emeralds sitting in the sun.

  “You seem tense,” I said.

  “Nah. I’m just checking out the flowers and stuff. Come on now, let’s get into the forest,” she said.

  I didn’t see the hurry. This place
was calming and enjoyable. I felt like I’d been transported to the tropics, and with my bones always cold from swimming in the sea, this was nice. I followed her pace though, and we sped through a long lane filled with cherry trees. To my knowledge, cherry trees were not blooming at this time of year either, and yet the pinkish petals fluttered everywhere, landing on the ground, forming a mystical path. The trees were filled with the beautiful rose scented blossoms.

  We reached what looked like a dead tree. A rowan. I knew the significance of a rowan tree. Magic.

  When we turned to walk down the path toward the gate, I couldn’t help but mention the drastic change.

  “Everything on this path is dead,” I said.

  “So it would seem. But it grows. The limbs grow fast, and intertwine. Sometimes, they have to be cut back twice a week,” Ivy said. “There is the gate now.” She pointed and ran ahead. The gate was set between two tall stoned walls and covered in ivy. She fidgeted with it, and it opened up with a loud squeak.

  I walked through and into the woods while she shut the squeaky gate behind us. So, this was how easy it was for my sister to get to the forest of Merribay. I couldn’t help but have a pang of jealousy sweep through me. All those times that I had to trek through Hunter’s Hollow—ten miles—and this was it? All she had to do was walk through an enchanted garden and voilà! I tamped down my feelings and forced a half grin. So what? I thought. I was here now. What did it matter?

  We walked on, past a giant yew tree filled with colorful scarves and ribbons. I’d heard about this famous tree. Izadora’s tree. All of these ornamental pieces of cloth were somehow requests or something. I didn’t understand it very well, but it was rather pretty with all the colors swaying in the breeze.

  Honestly, just being in the forest perked me up. I loved the smell of pine and fir trees. I sniffed at the air and kept walking, crunching a pinecone beneath my foot. That was when I noticed that my sister had no shoes on. She always was a little weird.

  “Doesn’t that hurt your feet?” I asked.

  She turned to look at me. “No. Well, sometimes. But not really.” She scrunched her face up. “Sometimes I wear the slippers I had loaned you in the land of the elven.”

  “Slippers? What slippers?” I couldn’t remember what she was talking about.

  “You don’t remember? I let you wear them so that you wouldn’t have to wear your heels.”

  “Oh yes,” I lied. I didn’t remember, though. When they had removed the memories of my magic, they had also taken some regular memories, I think.

  “We are going to stop in to see Izadora for a moment. We won’t stay, but we need to set up chairs and blow up balloons for Granddad’s birthday party,” Ivy informed me. “I didn’t want to mention it at Gran’s in front of him.”

  “You mean to say that you didn’t want to mention it until now because you didn’t think I’d come along if I knew we were headed to Izadora’s.”

  “True. Forgive me?” she said. Her innocent face and slightly pouting lips swayed me.

  “I forgive you.” It’s not like Izadora could do anything worse to me than Magella already had.

  Ahead of us was a path. The tree limbs intertwined overhead and formed a circle, and purple wisteria hung down in wispy trails. The forest floor was covered in an unnatural green-colored grass.

  “This path is enchanted,” I whispered.

  Ivy nodded her head up and down. “Izadora’s is this way.”

  We stepped upon the green grass, and it was like we were swept into another time. The silence was uncanny and the air pure, almost smooth to breathe. I knew this to be the work of a great mind.

  “I had forgotten Granddad’s birthday, Ivy. The days just seem to blend. Do we have time to go into town so that I can buy him a present?” I asked.

  “It’s all right, Zin. He’s so glad to have you back, that’s present enough.”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But I want to get him something.”

  Exiting the path, we stepped onto more green grass. The lawn was filled with tiny patches of purple flowers and then tiny patches of white flowers. I knew these flowers to be rare, but here they were. The treetops ahead were thick, but you could still make out the structure of the tree house. I felt envious. As a young teen, I had always wanted a tree house. It was a form of freedom.

  We climbed the stairs and walked the planked bridge to Izadora’s. The old woman had every kind of herb hanging from pots and lining the walkway. The porch held even more mysterious plants, and a big chunk of wood transformed into a table sat to the side. Ivy walked right through the open door and into the kitchen, but I was forced to pause. I couldn’t figure out why I felt like I needed to stop but I searched around, looking for something unknown. When I looked above her doorway, I noticed a horseshoe made of pure gold. It was a luck symbol, but it seemed to be staring down at me.

  Confused, Ivy said, “Come in.”

  I tried stepping forward, but something held me back.

  “It is okay, Zinnia. You may come inside,” Izadora said. “Anyone with the water symbol tattooed on them has to be given permission.” She stood behind the table in her kitchen, pouring flour into a mixing bowl. She wore a simple beige-colored shift dress, and her trademark blue robe hung on a hook by the refrigerator. She paused to look up at me.

  I did indeed have the water symbol tattoo, but all of a sudden I could move again, and walked right through the doorway.

  “And so we meet again,” she said to me. Her white hair stood up everywhere, reminding me of Einstein.

  I snickered, more out of pity for myself than anything. The last time I had seen Izadora, she had been participating in the stripping of my powers. Magella had done a good job on her own, but Izadora had basically finished me off with her forgetting tea.

  “Have a seat,” she commanded. The old woman was scary. Even if I had my powers—all of them—I would still think twice about crossing her. And it wasn’t just me that she frightened. She frightened her own sister as well. Magella talked big and had plenty to say about Izadora, but when boiled right down to it, she could talk the talk but not walk the walk.

  I sat down at the wooden table. The kitchen was cozy. The walls were decorated in white wallpaper with faint silver teacup designs. She had several pots and pans hanging above her countertop. From where I sat, you could see into the living area, where a tree came up through the middle of the floor. The ceiling was wide open, and yet it felt nice and warm in here.

  Izadora poured some oil in the mixing bowl and began to stir the contents. Her arms were old and wrinkly, but she had oomph. “I’m making your grandfather a birthday cake. He loves red velvet cake.”

  It pleased me to know that she thought enough of my grandfather (her nephew, after all) to make him a birthday cake. So, even if she hated me, she wouldn’t kill me, because she liked him. Then again, maybe she should just put me out of my misery.

  “I won’t harm you,” she said.

  If I didn’t know any better, I would think that she had just read my thoughts. Long ago, I had asked Magella some questions about Izadora. One of the questions was, “Can she read minds?”

  Magella had said, “I can’t answer that one. It’s questionable. I do not think so, but she has an uncanny way of knowing things.”

  Izadora smiled now. “So, how is life with my sister? It’s not all you thought it would be, am I right?”

  She was referring to the beginning. When Ivy and I had first come to Maine and our father had been kidnapped, I had chosen Magella over her.

  I went to answer her, but the trek up the stairs had caused me to inhale too deeply. Lucky me, I was starting a coughing fit. I hacked away, coughing up phlegm.

  “Oh my,” Izadora said, but I could barely see her through the tears that formed in my eyes.

  Ivy ran over and pulled my right arm above my head—something Gran used to do to us when we got something stuck in our throats as children. I couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t going to help.


  I continued to cough and Izadora brought me a trash can, which I threw up in. She walked away and returned with a teacup filled with warm liquid. “Drink this down,” she said.

  I couldn’t even breathe, but I managed to put the cup to my lips with Ivy’s help, and I swallowed down the contents of the cup. It tasted bitter with just a hint of honey. Inhaling, I sat up straighter.

  “Thank you,” I muttered.

  Izadora’s face screwed up, and her lips tightened. “Well, now, I guess you’ve answered my question. Life with Magella is not so grand.”

  Ivy sat down next to me, with her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes reminded me of a puppy dogs, and she had pity written all over her face. I didn’t like to be pitied.

  “I see she hasn’t been treating you well,” Izadora said.

  I shook my head from side to side to signify “no.”

  “Izadora, isn’t there something you can do?” my sister pleaded.

  Izadora clucked her tongue and said, “I cannot interfere with my sister’s magic. That boat sailed long ago when Zinnia here decided to cast a spell over the gateway to the land of the elven. In our rules, she has to serve a punishment.” Her brows lifted, and she looked at my sister. “She made her bed, and now she lies in it.”

  So, this was the second time today that I would have to hear those words.

  “But, Izadora! You must help her somehow. She’s ill.”

  “You do mean sick, not mentally ill. Correct?” Izadora snickered.

  “Oh, Izadora. Must you be that way?” Ivy asked.

  Honestly, I just wanted to leave. It was one thing for me to feel sorry for myself, but I hated to have other people make a fuss over me. “I’ll be okay,” I said. I knew I was lying, but I wanted to get off the subject.

  “I can do one small thing.” She walked to her cupboard and took out a small paper bag that had been folded over and taped. “Take these. They are throat lozenges. I made them myself not too long ago. You are welcome to them.” She handed me the bag, and I reached up and took them.