Page 88 of Seas the Reckoning

“You’re right. You are amazing just as you are.”

“Although I wouldn’t mind a bit more pep in my step right now. Does the letter say anything about that?”

“No, but”—a grin spreads across my face— “you do realize this means we are related.”

Distantly. Even so, Starla’s grin spreads to match my own.

I pluck the shell necklace from the headstone, joining my friend and kneeling in the sand in front of her.

“How do we do it?” she asks.

Inktus didn’t specify.

I answer the only way that makes sense to me.

Grammy treats magic like a living, breathing being. She acts like she can feel its intentions, and for once, I understand. Peace washes over me as I begin to sing, and I feel no pain.

“I trust you with my voice. Take it.”

Warmth works its way up and out of my throat, leaving a cooling sensation behind. The shell glows bright, like a star in the night sky. I hand it to Starla.

“It’s so warm. Did it work? Can you talk?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, answering my own question. I put a hand to my throat.

I try to sing instead. Nothing comes out.

“I wanted to see the song at full force!” one of the naiads sulks.

“Maybe another time. She could come back,” one of the others consoles her.

I’m doubting it. While they have technically been helpful, I feel no desire to return to this place, but it feels rude to say so.

Starla pulls the necklace over her head.

“We’d better hurry so we can get this back to you,” she says. “Thomas? Can you take us back to your boat? Then we can sort the overseas bit once we’re back at the docks with cell service?”

He grins.

“I’d be delighted! Whale Express is in operation again!”

Thomas lets us out into the waves, having somehow managed to find his sailboat in the water, even though I’m sure it has to have moved from where we left it.

“Told you I’ve got an excellent sense of direction,” he says before anyone can question it.

We all crowd onto the boat, and Thomas dons his weathered captain’s hat and a pair of khaki shorts so he’s not completely nude as we make our way to shore.

The rest of us have clothes tucked in the boat that do not smell like whale breath. Whether he brushes his teeth or not, spending more than a day out in the open water has left everyone smelling a bit fishy. Not that I’m going to complain. If anything, Thomas deserves endless thanks from us.

“We truly could not have done this without you,” I tell him.

“Least I could do for Malcolm, and you’re all such nice folks. It was a pleasure, honestly. If I’m ever in Carolina Beach, I’ll look you up.”

“I’ll give you whatever you’d like to eat or drink free at the Sea Wench,” Starla declares.

“I don’t run a restaurant, and I’m not sure what help a dive service would be to a whale, but I’d be happy to act as a swim buddy if you’d like me to show you around the local waters,” I volunteer.

Thomas grins at us both but somehow looks more excited about a personalized tour of the local fish than he does Starla’s cuisine.