Shattered by the Sea Lord - Starla Night Page 0,82
“Of the trap?”
Angie opened her eyes. “Of the water.”
At the same moment, Meg also said, “Get out of the water.”
They looked at each other, eyes wide.
“That’s a little odd.” Angie tapped her lip with her index finger. “I suppose we are mother and daughter.”
“Yeah, we’re on the same wavelength.” Meg laughed uncomfortably.
Val crunched another seaweed chip. “I thought the old reef was safe.”
“I know, it is.” Meg flubbed her lips. “That’s so weird. Whatever. Ignore me.”
Dannika hadn’t had any warning when Eliot had died. The storm hadn’t even made landfall, dissipating long before it reached her guest cottage as a mild gust of wind and a nasty black cloud. She’d had no idea that he’d already been ripped away from her forever.
But now she was a mer. She’d drunk the elixir and accepted Ciran’s Sea Opal. Dannika rubbed the sphere in her caftan pocket. She felt him.
And the mind-body connection was real.
It was the source of her power.
She’d pushed it away. She’d filled her heart with fears. So many fears, like the squid crowding Meg until she suffocated.
Dannika opened her mouth to say something.
Bex did it first. “Maybe it’s not safe.”
Everyone stared at her.
“Maybe you’re feeling a message.” Bex touched her chest. “Maybe you should hear it.”
“Oh, no. The children can’t lose another familiar comfort,” Angie said. “Besides, I’m used to this anxiety. Ask me how I was when I used to plan my husband’s big soirees.”
“When you were living a lie,” Bex said. “And ignoring the truth in your heart.”
Angie stopped smiling. “Yes, well… I don’t want to scare them…”
“Kids!” Meg screamed, running for the shore. “Get out of the water!”
Chapter Thirty
Angie watched Meg race down to the shore screaming. Her brows lifted. “So much for not scaring anyone.”
The kids hustled out of the water.
Hadali went to Bex. “What is it, Mom?”
She put an arm around him. “Keep everybody up here by Val.”
“Why?” Tulu carried his youngest brother with him while the others staggered, wet and dripping, behind them. “What happened?”
“Call it a bad feeling.” Meg touching each of the children as if to count they were all present. “Mother’s intuition.”
They milled uncertainly.
“Hey, kids.” Val summoned them to her side of the table. “You know what we can do on the interior of the island? A pirate treasure hunt!”
“Pirate treasure hunt?” the younger kids chorused.
“How it works is, I make a map with my fellow pirate leaders.” She winked at Hadali and Tulu. “And we make a list of the island’s secret treasures. Then you go and find them, and whoever gets them all first is the winner!”
Val was the true treasure.
And the amazing thing was how she kept coming up with new ideas to entertain the children.
“Are you sure you weren’t a preschool teacher instead of a pilot?” Meg asked while the kids got together and decided on teams.
“Camp counselor.” Val rubbed her ragged collar. “Ten years. I’ve got all my badges. This is just the top of my carpetbag of tricks.”
“Entertaining the kids will save our lives.”
“Well, I hope it helps, seeing as there’s not much else I can do but sit by this radio and hope somebody stumbles upon our island.”
The radio crackled.
“Warn them about the reef,” Bex said. “I destroyed the big part but there are still fragments. They can bottom out.”
The kids gathered around Val in their pirate treasure teams.
“We’re ready for the pirate treasure hunt,” Hadali announced.
“Well, then, the first thing we need to find is ten seashells. Let’s—”
“All our secrets are coming out today, ha ha.” Meg cleared her throat. “Why don’t you show Val?”
“Can we?” the kids chorused.
“Sure,” Meg said.
“I’m a little curious myself,” Dannika said.
The younger kids skipped ahead.
“It’s at the top of the crater.” Hadali brought over Val’s crutch. “You will need your staff.”
Val grabbed his hand, oofed to her feet, and leaned on the crutch. Up the hill, past the shower and deep into the interior they completed a short, sharp hike to the tallest point of the island.
The Bahamas were not volcanic islands, so weather or something else must have sculpted the “crater” from the ancient limestone. Vines trailed over the sides. Inside, at the bottom in a lake, a massive, weathered phallic statue thrust from two boulders. It did indeed resemble a short, squat, somewhat deflated male genitalia.
“Huh.” Val panted and leaned on her crutch. “Cock-and-Balls, you say…”
“It’s, ah, not the most poetic name.” Meg laughed awkwardly. “But this was the