Page 13 of Bring Me Your Midnight

Eerie silence.

Tears stream down my face, and I take a deep breath and try to regain my composure. The currents are getting worse, eroding our island and killing our sea creatures. Hurting the things we love.

My mother says they’re under control, that the coven leaders are taking care of things, but watching a sea lion be drowned by its home is not control.

It’s failure.

I think back to that night five years ago when I almost drowned, to my father’s angry voice as he blamed it on my mother. What will he say to her tonight in the safety of their room, in whispers that can’t get past the door? Will he blame this on her as well, or were his words unfounded, brought on by the terror of almost losing his only child?

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

The boat slows as it approaches the docks on the Witchery, and Ivy and I walk inside together. She leans against the wall of the ferry, and I rest my head on her shoulder and exhale.

“You okay?”

“I’m okay,” I assure her.

“The currents are getting worse,” she says.

“I know.” I pause and lower my voice. “Ivy, what if that had been a person? A mainlander? It’s only a matter of time before that happens, and if Landon and I aren’t married when it does—”

My mother walks over, and I cut myself off, but I don’t miss the worry in Ivy’s eyes.

“Let’s get you girls home, hm?” she says. We walk toward the exit, and she wraps an arm around each of us. “Tonight was an incredible success. Well done.”

We follow my father off the ferry, over the rickety bridge and onto the dock. The clouds are getting heavier, concealing the moon and the stars. Everything is dark.

We stop at Ivy’s house first, and I give her a tight hug before she heads inside.

“Do you really think that’s a risk?” Ivy whispers as she hugs me back. “What you said about the currents drowning a mainlander?”

“I think we’ve got time before that happens,” I say, not wanting to make her worry more than I already have. “Mom says the council has it under control.” I squeeze Ivy tight, and she nods and heads inside.

My parents are walking slowly, their arms around each other, delighting in the memories of the night. I follow behind them, the lullaby still playing in my head, punctuated by the sounds of the sea lion slipping away.

I grip Landon’s sea glass tightly in my palm, its sharp edges digging into my skin.

When we get home, my mother walks to the kitchen and pours two glasses of wine while my father lights a fire.

“Would you like to join us, Tana?” she asks.

“I’m tired,” I say.

“Of course. Get some rest, sweetheart.”

I nod and head up the stairs, the sound of my parents’ happy laughter following me as I go.

I love that sound.

My room is dark, and I set the piece of sea glass on my dresser. I don’t bother turning on the light before I unzip my dress and fill my lungs for what feels like the first time tonight. I walk into my bathroom and wash my face, pull my hair up, and brush my teeth.

I’m about to crawl into bed when a dim light outside catches my attention. I pick up the sea glass and open the window, invitingthe sound of the waves into my room. I sit on the window seat and roll the glass around in my hand, watching the world outside.

My head rests against the wall as I look out into the black night. The light gets brighter and brighter, coming from the lawn, a small brilliance against the darkness. I rise up on my knees and lean my head out the window, trying to focus on the light, and that’s when I see it.

A single moonflower, hanging contentedly over the perfectly trimmed grass.

A shiver crawls up my spine.