CHAPTER EIGHT
ELLIOT
I throw myself into the mind-numbing motion, trying to think about anything but her.
Grab trash. Throw it into the garbage bag. Grab a can. Toss it into the recycling bin.
Over and over, praying it’ll numb the thoughts.
Except it doesn’t.
You should go to her. She needs you.
“What she needs is to learn to control her magic before she or someone else gets hurt.”
And how exactly do you plan on helping her? You’re not a witch.
“I don’t even think she’s aware of what’s going on.
She was clearly in denial that it wasn’t faulty water pressure.
” I straighten to my full height, stretching out the ache in my lower back after hours of bending over picking up trash since before sunrise.
I love this little town, but every year the crowds it draws get larger and larger, and with increased people comes increased litter.
Something the animals living here should not have to deal with.
She’s not fooling anyone. No you, not me, not even herself. You saw the look on her face.
I wipe the perspiration from my brow and stare up at the sun climbing higher in the sky.
“Yeah, but if she’s a witch and we’re in a magical town, why is she denying it? And why is it out of control? Something just doesn’t add up.”
“Hey, Elliot, I think we’ve got everything in this section!” Ryan calls as he sprints across the sand in my direction. “We’re gonna hit some waves and then meet up at The Salty Siren for burgers and brews. You in?”
Go to her.
“Hey, Ryan.” We shake hands before pulling each other into a quick bro hug, slapping each other on the back. “I’d love to, but I’ve got some work to do on the house. Leaky faucet I’ve been meaning to fix on my next day off. Old houses, you know?”
“Oh, why don’t we stop by your place first? We could get that fixed in a jiffy and still make it out to the waves.”
“I appreciate it, man, but you guys have fun. It’s been a long week at work too. I could use some rest.”
“Alright, dude, but if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” We bump fists before he turns and jogs back across the sand toward the rest of the group and the cars parked up the road.
Our house doesn’t have a leaky faucet…
“No,” I mutter, staring out at the ocean, “but we do have a witch who caused one to visit.”
Gin immediately begins barking the second I knock on the solid wood door of the Prescott house. I rock back on my heels, unable to keep the grin off my face as muffled cursing and scrambling sounds echo from inside.
“Ginifred Penelope Prescott, if you knock over one more—”
A loud crash cuts her off.
I bite back a laugh right as the door jerks open.
Catherine peers out at me through the narrow opening, her heart-shaped face flushed pink like she sprinted across the house.
Her amethyst hair is twisted into a messy bun that’s half falling apart, loose curls sticking to her cheeks.
There’s flour dusted over one shoulder of her oversized sweatshirt and something blue smeared on her wrist.
“Elliot.” Her tone goes flat. “What are you doing here?”
Her bright blue eyes drift from my face down to the package I’m holding, suspicion sharpening her expression.
“What’s that?”
“A housewarming gift?” I lift the box slightly.
“I’m not moving here. I’m dog-sitting for the summer.” She crosses her arms over her chest just as the dog in question barrels between her legs.
Gin launches at me like she hasn’t seen me in years instead of two days, barking wildly and nearly knocking the box from my hands.
“Traitor,” Catherine mutters to the dog. “Down, Gin! Oh my goddess—stop licking him!”
Gin ignores every word, paws planted on my chest as her tail whips hard enough to start its own weather system.
I laugh and scratch behind her ears. “Pretty sure she likes me.”
“She likes everyone. Last week she tried to follow the mailman home.”
“That’s because I have depth.”
“You have fish energy.”
I gasp dramatically. “Rude.”
Catherine rolls her eyes, but I catch the corner of her mouth twitching upward before she notices me noticing.
“Okay then.” I shift the package in my hands. “Not a housewarming gift. A welcome-back-to-town gift.”
“I thought breakfast at the café was the welcome-back gift.”
“That was more of a panic-response-to-near-drowning thing.”
“I was not drowning.”
“You were getting aggressively acquainted with the undertow.”
She points at me. “And you are exaggerating.”
“And you are avoiding the topic.”
Her expression shutters instantly.
“Elliot—”
“At the café, when the water—”
“The water was a freak accident,” she snaps. “I already told you.”
The second the words leave her mouth, the air changes.
Magic thickens around us, humid and electric.
I feel it before I see it.
Then every sprinkler in the front yard bursts to life.
Water blasts directly at us from every angle.
Catherine shrieks as icy spray smacks us full in the face. Gin loses her ever-loving mind, barking hysterically before sprinting straight into the streams like this is the greatest moment of her life.
“Oh, come on.” I bark out a laugh, throwing an arm over my face as another sprinkler rotates toward us like it has a personal vendetta. “Really? If this isn’t water magic—”
“It’s not me!” Catherine yells over the spraying water while trying to catch the zooming golden doodle. “Gin! Stop helping!”
Gin responds by body-slamming directly through the strongest stream.
Water arcs twenty feet into the air.
A nearby hanging flower pot explodes.
“Oh, that seems safe,” I mutter.
“It’s not funny!”
“You’re right.” Another stream nails me in the chest. “It’s hilarious.”
She glares at me, completely soaked now. Her sweatshirt clings to her frame, curls plastered to her cheeks while the sprinklers continue firing at random like they’ve achieved sentience.
Then, all at once, every stream lifts upward.
Both of us freeze.
The water twists into floating ribbons above the lawn, spinning wildly in the air like miniature waterspouts.
Gin barks at them furiously.
“Oh,” Catherine whispers, staring upward. “That’s new.”
One of the ribbons suddenly whips toward us.
“Inside!” I grab the front door handle.
I scoop Gin into one arm while Catherine ducks under another wave of floating water and stumbles inside after me. The second the door slams shut behind us, the hovering streams splatter harmlessly against the wood outside.
Silence.
Then Gin shakes.
Violently.
Water sprays everywhere.
Catherine groans while wiping her face. “I hate this town.”
“You literally grew up here.”
“Exactly.”
I set Gin down and point toward the front door, where water still drips ominously beneath the frame.
“If that wasn’t you,” I say carefully, “you should probably explain why water keeps trying to assassinate me whenever you’re around.”
“It is not trying to assassinate you.”
“The jury’s still out.”
She sighs heavily and turns down the hallway. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet you keep inviting me inside.”
“I absolutely did not invite you inside.”
“You failed to throw me out. Same thing.”
“That’s not how trespassing laws work.”
I follow her into a large sunlit kitchen with sea-glass tiles and wide windows overlooking the backyard. Everything smells faintly of cinnamon and coffee.
Catherine grabs two mugs and pours coffee from the pot on the counter.
She lifts a brow. “You’re dripping on the floor.”
“You’re dripping on the floor,” I echo.
“That’s because your weird sea-shifter aura brought chaos into my kitchen.”
I take the mug she slides toward me. “Sea-shifter aura sounds majestic.”
“It sounds damp.”
“Fair.”
She drops heavily into one of the chairs at the table. Exhaustion flickers across her face now that the sarcasm has faded.
“Elliot.” The edge leaves her voice “Why are you really here?”
I set the soggy box on the counter.
“Because Crescent Cove is my home,” I tell her. “And because your magic is spiraling out of control.”
Her jaw tightens.
“It could hurt someone.”
Including you.
The words stay lodged in my throat.
“I told you already,” she says, staring into her coffee. “It’s not me. I gave up magic a long time ago when it gave up on me.”
Something in her voice twists unexpectedly in my chest.
I sit across from her, gentler this time.
“Cat—”
“It’s Catherine.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, sharp and challenging.
I lean back in my chair. “Okay… Wren.”
A muscle ticks in her jaw.
“Don’t call me that.”
“But it bothers you so beautifully.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You noticed.”
She glares at me.
Then her coffee rises straight out of the mug.
We both stare as the dark liquid hovers midair.
“Oh no,” Catherine whispers.
The coffee splashes directly across the counter between us.
I slowly lift an eyebrow.
She drops her forehead into her hands with a muffled groan.
“Okay,” she mutters. “Fine. Maybe something weird is happening.”
“Strong opening defense.”
She peeks at me through her fingers. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
“A little.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
Another pause.
“…Currently, I do.”
I grin into my coffee.
She exhales slowly before finally speaking.
“Ever since I stepped back into Crescent Cove, things have been happening.” Her voice softens.
“At first I thought it was bad plumbing or weird coincidences, but…” She shakes her head.
“I haven’t used magic in years. I shut it off.
Buried it. And now it’s like…” She swallows hard.
“Like it’s been trapped too long and it’s exploding out of me. ”
The kitchen lights flicker.
Water drips upward from the sink.
“I used to be one of the strongest elemental witches in town,” she continues quietly. “Before my mom got sick.”
A sharp ache pulls through me.
“After she died…” Her breath catches slightly. “Magic couldn’t save her. None of it could. So I stopped using it.”
The hovering droplets around the kitchen tremble.
“I left Crescent Cove. I moved on. And now I’m back, and suddenly everything’s chaos again.” Her eyes harden as she looks at me. “But I’m only here until my aunt comes home. Then I’ll leave, and your precious town won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
Before I can answer, the faucet behind her suddenly blasts on full force.
She yelps and spins around just as the hose attachment detaches from the sink like a possessed water snake.
“Whoa—”
The hose whips wildly through the kitchen, spraying water everywhere.
I lunge for it while Catherine ducks.
Gin starts barking like she’s witnessing the greatest sporting event ever.
“Grab it!” Catherine shouts through laughter and panic.
“I’m trying!”
The hose sprays directly into my face.
She snorts.
“You’re laughing at me right now?”
“You look ridiculous!”
“I’m fighting for my life!”
Water surges across the kitchen counter, knocking over a bowl of fruit. Oranges roll everywhere while Gin enthusiastically chases them.
Finally, I tackle the hose against the sink and throw a towel over the nozzle.
The water sputters to a stop.
Heavy breathing fills the kitchen.
Dripping water patters onto the tile floor.
Catherine stares at the destruction around us before slowly dragging one hand down her face.
“…Goddess damn it.”
I can’t help it.
I laugh. A real laugh this time.
To my surprise, after a second, she laughs too.
It’s quiet at first. Breathless. Disbelieving.
Then she shakes her head and looks at me.
“So.” She lets out a ragged breath. “What now?”
I finally push the soggy box toward her and open it.
Inside are several books on elemental magic, old maps, and handwritten notes.
“I may only be a sea lion shifter, not a witch, but I did some research,” I say. “Crescent Cove sits on a magical ley line. Your aunt’s house is built over one of the strongest points.”
Her brows furrow as she leans closer to the map.
“I knew the town attracted magical beings,” she murmurs, “but I didn’t know about the ley lines.”
“Explains why your magic suddenly supercharged.”
She studies the map another moment before blinking and glancing back up at me.
“Wait. Go back.” She points at me. “Did you say sea lion shifter?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a real thing?”
I stare at her blankly. “You literally control water.”
“Yeah, but sea lions are weird.”
“Weird?” I place a hand dramatically against my chest. “We are majestic aquatic predators.”
“You bark at fish.”
“We communicate powerfully.”
“You nap on rocks.”
“We embrace self-care.”
She laughs again despite herself, bright and sudden enough to make warmth settle low in my ribs.
I slide the books toward her.
“Your magic isn’t going away, Wren. Fighting it is only making things worse.” I gesture around the soaked kitchen. “Exhibit A.”
“I’m not trying to do magic at all.”
“Exactly. It’s your nature. Water moves whether you want it to or not.”
Her expression falters slightly.
The sink behind us suddenly rattles ominously.
Both of us slowly turn toward it.
“Don’t,” Catherine warns the plumbing.
The faucet explodes again.
“Oh, come on!” she cries.
I burst out laughing as I run for the sink again.
“You still think this isn’t funny?” she shouts while dodging another spray.
“No.” Grinning, I grab her wrist and pull her beside me. “I think this is definitely the beginning.”