Page 3 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)

Chapter 2

MARLIN

I force more air out of my lungs.

The pressure inside my chest turns into an unpleasant burning sensation as I push my body onwards, propelling myself through the water. Black spots dance across my vision as I near the flags, a 5-meter mark from my destination.

I refuse to breathe until I hit that wall.

The human body is a wondrous thing, but at times like this, it truly is a pain in the ass. The connection between one’s mind and body is a fickle one, a parasitic relationship that feeds off one another and insists giving up is the only option.

The mind is the weakest part of the body. Always encouraging the latter to admit defeat before the limits have been attained.

I kick through the numbness creeping up my legs and stroke through the pressure threatening to explode in my chest. The lower body is always the first to lose function, an inevitable inconvenience given the amount of oxygen leg muscles consume.

It’s pathetic, really. The strongest component tapping out first.

Reminds me a little bit of Gus.

The thought puts me in good spirits as I glide towards the wall and finally allow my head to breach the surface. My body instinctively takes over, hastily gulping down oxygen to chase away the fire residing in my lungs.

I give my body exactly sixty seconds to replenish itself before I push off the wall and do it again.

And again.

And again.

The school reporter covering varsity sports did an article on my success last year. Securing gold in every event, my outstanding performance at Nationals was credited to “ the inspiring dedication Marlin displays at every practice is one we should all hope to achieve.”

The reporter was an imbecile.

My success has nothing to do with my so-called dedication to jumping into a cold pool every morning. I wouldn’t even go as far as to say I enjoy the sport I spend countless hours training for.

No. It is not dedication that gets me out of bed before dawn every morning. It is the need for control .

Regulating one’s breathing only goes so far. I like to know that the fear attached to drowning, the automatic panic that kicks in when there’s no more oxygen, is something that can be manipulated into something useful.

If I cannot learn how to control myself, there is no point in controlling others.

Which would be no fun at all.

My rotator cuffs scream furiously as I continue doing laps, a refreshing reminder that I can feel things just as others do.

By the time I remove my goggles, almost two hours has passed. Hauling myself out of the pool, I stroll casually to where a pair of familiar green eyes await me.

“Gus must be in a pissy mood if you’ve hunted me down this early.”

Calista smirks, lowering her stiletto boots from a nearby chair, “He was down four pounds this morning and wouldn’t stop whining about it.”

“That’s because he was fucking Lionel last night. If he doesn’t want to do cardio, he should pick someone who won’t fight back.”

I lean down and grab my towel. Calista watches me dry myself off, her eyes shamelessly raking over my mostly naked body.

“Some men just aren’t built for cardio.”

“Clearly.”

I turn and walk into the men’s changeroom. Calista’s boots click against the floor as she follows me, not bothering to turn around when I peel off my speedo.

“I thought practices started tomorrow. ”

“They do.” Turning to open my locker, I give her my back as I carefully pull out the folded dress pants, “I was getting one last productive practice in before the others arrive.”

“What every swimmer wants to hear from their captain.” She smirks, watching me pull up my pants, “Still going commando, I see.”

“A team captain is merely a figurehead. I simply ensure everyone knows their role on the team.” I zip up my pants with a shrug, “And why would I ruin these creases with an underwear line?”

Calista laughs, the movement spilling blond curls over her leather jacket. She was always a pretty girl, but the years have transformed the little princess into a beautiful woman. Rosy cheeks sharpened into high cheekbones, pink lips grew round and pouty, and those big green eyes became more wicked with each passing year.

She is the epitome of a dangerous woman. Confident in her sexuality and not afraid to walk in six-inch stilettos with a knife up her sleeve.

“What is it you’re looking for?” Pulling out my dress shirt, I slide it over my shoulders, “I find it hard to believe you would track me down just for a chat.”

She gasps, “Are we not old friends?”

I raise a brow, slowly buttoning my shirt, “I’m waiting.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” She smiles, sliding closer to finish the last button, “Gus isn’t the only one who filled out.”

“Pity. I’m still waiting for your boobs to do the same. ”

Calista laughs, dropping her hand from my chest, “I remember someone trying to cop a feel when these itty bitties came in.”

I smirk, “And I remember someone breaking my jaw when that happened. Now, are you going to tell me why you’re here or should I risk another broken jaw?”

“You know why I’m here. Hand it over.”

Turning my back to her, I reach inside my locker and grab the ring tucked inside my suit pocket. Sliding it onto my middle finger, I twist it around until the family crest shines back at me.

It’s a bit ostentatious for my taste, the skull with tentacles leaking out of its eye sockets and gaping mouth, but my mother felt it was on brand for her particular form of torture.

It can be quite exasperating dealing with the Sea Witch on a daily basis.

“And if I’m not in a sharing mood?”

The edge of Calista’s favourite blade digs into the base of my neck. I chuckle, turning around slowly so she doesn’t puncture something vital.

“Let’s not get too hasty. I was simply testing the waters to see how excited you were to hear about Wolf Hollow’s latest transplant.”

She smiles, digging in her knife to draw a drop of blood.

“Let’s assume I am ecstatic to hear what you found out about the new girl. Now, if you will be so kind.”

The blade stays glued to my neck until the report is out of my locker and safely in her hands .

“That’s a good boy.” She purrs, finally removing the knife from my throat.

I reach up and wipe away the blood, being careful not to stain the collar of my shirt.

“Melody St. James is the newest and brightest resident of Wolf Hollow. Background information is on the second page, family history on the third, and the last few pages have some images I pulled from her school files.”

Calista hums, flipping through the pages, “A choir girl? How adorable.”

“That opinion might change once you reach the third page.” I walk over to the bathroom mirror and check my hair, “Erik Prince was the mother’s second husband. The first one died unexpectedly one Sunday afternoon.”

“After the neighbour filed noise reports of broken glass and bruises around the woman’s neck.” Her lips purse together, “Let me guess. Mommy got tired of daddy’s fists and took matters into her own hands.”

Adjusting my collar one last time, I turn and lean against the counter, “That’s where it gets interesting. Take a look at the police file I attached for you.”

Calista reads silently, her nails scraping against a nearby locker. I study her impeccable posture, trying to pinpoint what sport could have caused it.

Dance or gymnastics would be at the top of the list. She’s too muscular for a ballerina and too flexible for a powerlifter .

“Well, well. The new girl might be more interesting than I thought.” She flips the page and lets out a delighted gasp, “And look how pretty she is! Oh, how I love dark hair.”

“It’s red. Dark red.” I correct her, picturing the long ends brushing Melody’s torso. Her fair skin illuminated the red strands in the most marvellous way, and I couldn’t help but imagine how they would look wrapped around my fist.

“You paid her a visit last night, didn’t you?” Calista clucks her tongue, “Taunting the poor girl already. I would expect nothing less of you.”

“I was simply making sure she felt welcomed in her new home.” A grin splits my face, “And I was confirming all the facts in my report were correct.”

“Uh huh. Tell me, did you learn anything not already in here?”

This is my favourite game. Calista sets out a challenge, knowing perfectly well I will come out with exactly what she’s looking for.

“Let me think.” I say it slowly, trying to prolong the enjoyment, “Height is 5’2 and I would place her weight anywhere between 110 and 130 lbs given the narrow ribcage and slender leg shape.”

“Boring.” She fakes a yawn, “I do hope you didn’t stay up all night measuring the girl’s clothing size.”

My smile widens, “Melody likes to wear her t-shirts one size too big so they're easier to tuck into little plaid skirts. She separates her clothes based on colour and does the same thing with her makeup. She is left-handed, although often uses her right hand for cleaning tasks.”

“Charming yet superficial. Have you lost your touch, Marlin?” Calista flashes her teeth, a challenge glinting in her eyes, “I might have to find a replacement for you too.”

I stare her down, enjoying this moment far more than the hours I spent in the pool this morning.

I find it difficult to feel passion, as so many others do, but I do find pleasure from a few different sources. Sex, of course, is one of them, but mental stimulation has always held an equally high reward for me.

Truly, there is no greater stimulation than studying a new enigma.

“Her mother’s death left a hole in Melody’s life, one that is connected to her love of music. She no longer sings and refuses to entertain her stepfather even when he offers to play the piano for her. If I had to guess, I would say singing was an intimate activity she shared with her mother, and now that she’s gone, Melody finds herself with no muse and no voice.”

Calista starts to clap, but I hold up a hand, halting her applause.

“My personal favourite, however,” I pause, savouring the last piece of an unfinished puzzle, “Is that she can be very intimidating with a pair of scissors.”

Laughter echoes through the changeroom, the familiar cackle pulling my lips into a smile. The delivery of the last one was meant to sound foolish, but it holds the most important morsel of information I have on Melody St. James.

When she thought someone was in her room, she didn’t run and hide.

She was ready to fight back.

Oh, how I do love a challenge.