Chapter 9
Nine
Darla
“Ilove you, too,” I sob into the night wind.
He’s gone. Moby is gone.
His human form, anyway.
About one hundred yards from shore, his powerful blueish-gray body rises from the water to release air from his blowhole, and I sink down helplessly onto the leather seat. He didn’t sound very confident at all that the sea witch would grant his request. Will I never see Moby again as a human?
If he’s not human, I won’t be able to hear his voice.
Make love to him.
Have a life together on the land.
Marry him.
“But we love each other,” I say uselessly, as if the fates—or maybe the sea witch—are listening and care enough to help me.
They don’t. There is no sound, apart from the lapping water and the rumbling engine of the jet ski.
The lack of Moby’s deep voice is like missing my heart.
Perhaps I am. Perhaps it’s swimming out of the cove right now, beckoning me with his giant tale, probably wanting me to go back to the resort where it’s safe.
But I don’t want to go home without Moby.
And I’m sick of playing it safe.
I want my man back.
Infused by a thunderbolt of determination, I whip the jet ski around and gun the machine toward the mouth of the cove.
Moby waits for me on the other side, his head sticking out of the water, like the first time we met.
His eyes narrow as I come closer, because I’m not slowing down and in fact, I blow right past him, heading for…
I don’t know where. The middle of the ocean. Or something.
Well, it’s pitch black out there, so I’m guessing I only make it about a mile, before my nerves kick in and I cut the engine. I might be shaking out of fear now, but I’m more determined than ever to fight to keep my love.
Moby circles the jet ski, blowing angry plumes of hot air from his blow hole, his enormous body creating wake that rocks me to and fro. He nudges the jet ski in the direction of the resort, but I shake my head.
“I’m not going back without you,” I shout at him. “Bring me the sea witch.”
He slaps his tail down forcefully in the water. I’m guessing that’s a no.
“Sea witch!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
I wrap my arms around my bikini-clad body, trying to warm up, but the air is freezing.
The water that splashes against my ankles is ice cold.
And the way Moby is looking at me, he is seconds from swallowing me whole and transporting me back to the resort inside of his great big body.
While there is something about that mode of transportation that I find appealing, that won’t solve our immediate problem.
“Sea witch!” I yell again, my voice tremulous.
Reality is beginning to set in. She might not appear. I might really lose my Moby.
Hot tears spring to my eyes and I try one last time.
“Sea wit—”
A green glow spreads beneath the water, right below my jet ski.
Followed by a blast. Water plumes everywhere and my jet ski topples, sending me pinwheeling into the ocean. I sink down into the icy murk, though I’m only there for a few seconds before a great being rises beneath me, lifting me to the surface on his mighty back.
Moby.
I gasp for air once I surface, my cheek pressed to his sleek, rubbery flesh. The entire length of him vibrates and rumbles, making distressed sounds, and I rub his flank in circles, letting him know that I’m all right.
For now.
Because we’re not alone.
There is a creature elevating from the ocean’s choppy surface, illuminated by that sickly green glow. When the figure comes into view, I blink several times, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Eyes like an owl, a body like a giant sea horse. Hair of seaweed.
No mouth.
No nose.
This thing is straight out of a nightmare.
“A-are you the sea witch?” I ask, shaking uncontrollably.
“I am.” Her response comes from all around me. Is she projecting her voice from her mind? “You must be the reason Moby left us for the humans. Temporarily, of course,” she finishes with a sinister chuckle.
I want to cower against Moby’s back, but I force myself to sit up.
Lift my chin, as if I’m the brave girl Moby believes me to be.
Maybe I am? After all, I conquered my fear of jet skiing today.
I’ve stood up to my mother. Now, I’m taking on a sea witch.
“Please. Make him human again. Allow him to stay with me. Without a time limit. Please. I’m begging you. ”
“Why would I do that?”
My throat stings, along with my eyes. “Because I love him so much.”
Even though she doesn’t have a mouth, I can tell she’s smirking. “If you’d told him that before he shifted back to a whale, he could have been yours as a human forever. You would have ended the Blight.”
Beneath me, Moby groans, long and low. A plea.
I’m too stunned to react, though, my stomach filling with lead. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper, tears escaping. “I’ve wanted to say it all day. I thought it was too soon.”
“Unfortunately, you only get one chance,” laughs the sea witch.
Frustration claws at my chest. “Why do you laugh at our misery?”
“Should I care about your misery, simply because you’re pretty?” asks the sea witch, her head ticking left in an inhuman movement. “No one cares about mine.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I whisper, wondering about her life. How she came to be regarded as a witch. Did she crave the fear of others or was inspiring fear her only choice?
My leg is starting to ache from being in the same position so long. Wincing, I roll onto my side and stretch it out, sighing in relief when the muscles uncramp.
“What is that?” the sea witch demands to know, her long bony finger extending to point at my pattern of scars.
“I had an accident a few years ago,” I explain.
She rolls her eyes. “Clearly, but what is the ink on top?”
“Oh, it’s a tattoo. I started a business called Beautiful Scars for people who have scars like mine. I design tattoos for their specific scars to turn them into something extra beautiful.”
For a split second, the sea witch appears slightly touched, but she quickly recovers, hissing, “You humans and your emphasis on beauty.” She draws out a pause, as if she’s at a loss for what to do next. “There is no way it’s possible to love someone after a single day.”
I stroke Moby’s slick back. “It’s possible if we’re soul mates.”
She is visibly disgusted by that suggestion. Not to mention skeptical. “Fine. I have an idea. Since you claim to love this whale and because beauty is so important to you, would you trade his good looks to have him stay a human forever?”
“Yes,” I breathe, without hesitating. “In a heartbeat. I don’t care what he looks like, I just want…his heart with mine at all times.”
Again, the sea witch doesn’t appear to believe me. “We’ll see about that.”
With a wave of her bony finger, the whale beneath me begins to grow warm.
A vibration passes through him, emitting a brief glow before Moby swims beside me in the water—as a human.
Just not the one I remember. His head is waxed clean of hair and his face is disfigured, as if it has been burned in a fire.
His grey eyes are the same, though, staring back at me among the scar tissue.
They watch me steadily, in trepidation of my reaction.
But there is only one reaction possible. Joy.
Crying out, I throw myself into his arms, sobbing in relief when his embrace closes around me and squeezes. “My little human,” he says thickly. “You really do love me.”
“Of course, I do. I love you so much,” I wheeze, hardly able to believe my luck.
I cling to Moby as he swims us to the jet ski, his hands grasping me around the waist and settling me onto the seat. As he’s climbing up behind me, holding me tightly to heat me, I focus on the sea witch through a veil of tears. “Thank you,” I whisper.
She’s silent for a prolonged beat. “It really is true love,” she marvels. “I didn’t think such a thing existed.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it was a pleasure to prove you wrong.”
A laugh nearly bubbles out of her.
She traps it at the last second.
“Moby will remain human now and live a normal human lifespan. With the love of his life, apparently. So happy for you. Mean it.” With an exaggerated eye roll, she waves her hand at us and begins to sink below the ocean surface once more.
I catch her smile just before she disappears completely.
Moby and I are halfway to the resort before I turn to look up at him…
…and realize the sea witch has restored his original human face and form.
“Did you miss my handsome face?” he teases, kissing my temple.
“All I ever needed was your heart,” I say, nuzzling my nose into his chin.
“You have it, Darla,” he vows, as the resort comes into view ahead, a bright beacon on the horizon, symbolic of our incredible future. “For the rest of our lives.”