Page 1 of The Witches Catalogue of Wanderlust Essentials (Natural Magic #2)

February 5, 1905, Montauk, NY

T he twin sisters sat perched on the catwalk above the Montauk lighthouse, scanning the ocean for a sign. High above the water, cloaked in profound darkness, they were mere slips of shadow. They were as close to invisible as one could become without attempting any conjuring, which would surely wake their father.

Some thirty feet below, their father, who was also the lighthouse keeper, slumbered soundly in his bed, none the wiser for their midnight antics. In his valerian tea-infused dreams, the sea was calm, and the light shone bright–the same as any other night. On any other night, the lighthouse beacon was visible from a distance of nineteen nautical miles. The locals referred to the inside passage to Manhattan as “The Devil’s Belt.” Shipwrecks were frequent and fatal.

The sisters were not particularly concerned about shipwrecks on that night, however. Although the lighthouse lamps had not been lit, their family’s powerful wards also protected the coast. Tonight, magic enchanted the tides to push all ships away from the shore. There had been Merfolk sightings in recent nights. The precautions were necessary for the safety of the local captains, crew, and all aboard. Superstition surrounded the Merfolk’s shoreline songs, which were believed to wreck ships.

The sisters had never seen Merfolk up close, or even at a distance. They hadn’t even sighted a single one of the Merfolk’s cruder cousins, the sirens.

Mythical creatures used to be common in New York, but a long war between two species made them rare. It was more likely to see Merfolk in Europe, the Middle East, or even the West Coast of the United States. But the girls’ father would never have let them go to any of these places. He barely even allowed them to leave the fully warded lighthouse.

Father had warned them repeatedly to stay away from the dangerous creatures. Sirens could be feral and unpredictable. And Merfolk, though more refined, were notoriously private, which should be respected. The prudent thing, he told them, would be to stay indoors and wear wax earplugs, to avoid seeing or hearing them at all.

“It’s not forever,” Father had insisted. “In a few days’ time, the Merfolk will move along and we can all go about our normal business again.”

But the twin sisters were not about to miss their one, and possibly only, chance to gaze upon such rare and special creatures! They wore their earplugs out of respect to their father, and they planned to keep their distance, but they refused to stay indoors. Just to make sure he didn’t worry about them too much, they’d added a few drops of a sleeping draught to his evening tea.

Eyes keen and tuned to the horizon, they waited for a sign.

Had the moon been full, their symmetry would have been striking. Holding hands, broomsticks at the ready, they appeared to be crafted from a single cut, scissored carefully along a fold.

They weren’t even sure what they were looking for. A long-haired beauty, basking on a rock in the night air? Strange half-human fish frolicking and leaping amidst the waves? Both options seemed unlikely. Too cliched. So they waited.

Finally, they saw something unusual. It was little more than a distant glow in the water near the horizon. The glow grew brighter as it moved toward them, rising from the depths and speeding toward the shore. It spilled a bioluminescence that flared and spread sparks in its wake. At once the sea was full of stars. Tiny green lights in a moonless sky. They flickered and faded.

It has to be them, the sisters thought at the same time. Words were rarely necessary between them when they were holding hands. But now their fingers slid apart. They stepped onto the railing and mounted their brooms. And then in unison, they sped off past the rocky shore out to sea, to better observe the comet streaking through the water.

Just below the surface, something zoomed toward the beach, weaving this way and that, never surfacing.

Faster ! The sisters’ eyes met as they turned back toward the shore to keep pace with the deep sea emissary swimming below them. As they flew close enough to skim the surface behind him, their legs became speckled with glowing foam.

They weren’t sure what they’d been expecting to see, but it certainly was not a larger-than-life Merman carrying a tightly woven seagrass basket with a tiny Merbaby bundled up inside. They could just barely make out her precious face, glowing beneath the waves.

Finally, the Merman came to a stop. He pushed his way to the surface and held the basket up into the air, as if he were making an offering to someone. Then he gently set the basket back down on the surface and swam away. There was no time to study him before he dove again, racing away from the child and back into the night twice as fast as he’d arrived.

For a moment, the basket bobbed on the waves. And then it began to sink.

The sisters gasped and reached for each other’s hands. Their eyes met again, as they questioned what they ought to do. But before they could even speak, a large, dark shadow passed overhead. The twins felt this more than saw it, because such was the darkness of this night.

Simultaneously, the sisters looked up and down and up again, worry creasing their brows.

Whatever is that ?

The giant dirigible had seemed to appear from out of nowhere. It floated noiselessly, perfectly camouflaged against the night sky. Its cunning concealment masked its approach, leaving them to scatter only when it loomed.

They watched as it skimmed the surface between them, and then suddenly, before either of them could pull out a wand, the solitary figure of a young man appeared upon the scaffolding at the bow of the airship.

He stood there for a second or two, considering the night. He was close. Too close. They held their breath and recited a spell of protection, but it was too late.

When the man dove, his body came close to colliding with one twin. She pulled away, but lost her balance, plunging headfirst into the icy cold sea.

Her broom hovered, riderless. Then it plunged in after her.

“Minodaura!” the remaining sister shrieked.

* * *

February 5, 1905, Brighton Beach, NY

Coming back to the shore was a mistake, Sophie thought. An expensive mistake. The ocean air was supposed to be good for her health. After all, that was the entire reason she and Isaac had spent a month at the Brighton Beach Hotel last summer. They had had little savings, but what little they had, they’d spent on the extended holiday. Fresh air, steak dinners, and a change of scenery were what the doctor prescribed.

Easy for the doctor to make such suggestions, Isaac joked. He didn’t have to foot the bill.

It was worth it, though. By the time she’d returned to Newark, Sophie was expecting again. This time, she was sure, would be different.

The beach in February was nothing like it had been in August. The early morning cold sliced through her shabby clothing like a blade. It chilled her to the bone. Her mother, were she still alive, would have scolded her for venturing out on a night like this.

“Are you trying to catch your death?” she would have shouted. Sophie could just hear her.

“Would that be so terrible?” Sophie shouted back now. Her mother had been gone for five years, and she’d lost her father to the sea long ago as well. She had no one.

No one besides Isaac. But who knew for how long? How long would any man stay with a barren woman like her? Isaac had always wanted a family. And so had she. That’s why she’d married him.

She turned toward the water, barely able to keep her eyes open. Tears streamed down her cheeks, coaxed out by the wind, only to freeze on her face as they spilled out. The tears blurred everything, but she didn’t care. It felt so good to cry, at last. Sophie never cried. She was a good girl. She put on a brave face and she did what she was told. She had faith. Sophie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She’d had faith. Now she had nothing. Not even a lousy handkerchief.

One hundred paces behind her, Isaac shouted her name and begged her to come back to the room.

“Come back,” he screamed. “I don’t want another wife. I don’t care about the money. We can try again. Or we can take a break from trying, Sophie. We don’t have to have any kids. You’re enough for me. Whatever you want to do.”

Isaac meant it, too. But he knew she didn’t feel the same way. As much as his wife loved him, he would never be enough. She wanted a child. She needed a child. He’d never felt more powerless.

Coming back was a mistake, Isaac realized now. A terrible miscalculation. Brighton Beach summers were wonderful, full of races, theater, and families enjoying the boardwalk and piazzas. They’d built sandcastles like they were children themselves and written their favorite baby names in the sand. It was like a second honeymoon. Or more like a first, since they hadn’t had the money for a honeymoon when they were married five years ago. But last summer, even though he’d been out of work, he’d splurged. They’d spent the modest inheritance from his mother. The timing was perfect, he’d rationalized. He’d go back to work in the fall. Nobody hired in the heat of summer. He was sure his mother would have approved. How his mother had longed for a grandchild! It seemed like a fitting way to spend the windfall.

There was almost nothing left now, and he was still unemployed. He needed to cast a broader net and look for work outside of Newark. Perhaps he’d even look here, he’d thought. He was not a fisherman, but he knew his way around a theater. Brighton Beach had several. Including one owned by Sophie’s stepbrother. If only she’d get over her prejudices about Burnie. He’d offered Isaac a job more than once.

Brighton Beach in winter was a whole different world than summer. A cold and foreboding one. The ocean was angry. The waves pounding on the shore reminded him of a feral animal licking its chops. It could swallow you whole. It might swallow Sophie whole if he didn’t stop her. He was gaining on her now, running. It wasn’t like Sophie to argue with him and run out into the night.

Did she mean to walk straight into the ocean? She’d been like a stranger tonight, insisting he find someone else, someone less “broken” than her.

“Sophie, wait! Please!” Isaac pleaded. “Put on your coat at least. Let me walk with you.” He approached warily, holding the brown mohair coat out in front of himself like a bullfighter.

Sophie heard the crunch of sand behind her and spun around to see her husband holding out her coat. He moved toward her cautiously, like she was an animal that might bolt. She couldn’t blame him.

Isaac was cold, of course. He might have even said he was freezing as he chased after his grieving wife. But that was not half so cold as he felt upon seeing her tear-stained face. Beautiful Sophie, who never cried, who always found the silver lining. She had not even cried when her own mother died. But now, illuminated by the cruel gray-gold light before dawn, she looked as if the flood of tears might erode all that was left of her. Her face was a fragile ruin. Isaac could hear whimpering as well, though Sophie’s lips did not appear to be moving.

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and made his way toward her slowly. Surprisingly, she didn’t move or try to run away.

“Did you hear that?” Sophie whispered.

“Hear what?” Isaac dabbed at her tears and folded her into his arms. He slid her coat over her shoulders.

“Shhh.” Sophie shook off the coat and stood up straighter. She’d heard something. Something impossible.

“Soph–” Isaac tried again to place the coat on her shoulders, a little more firmly this time. He’d been about to reference the hour, and that neither of them had slept, when he heard the whimpering sound again.

“You hear it, too?” Sophie swallowed. “It’s not just me? I mean, it’s not my imagination?”

“I heard something,” Isaac admitted. “But I’m not sure what it was. Probably a bird.”

They heard it again. Louder this time. More insistent.

“That doesn’t sound like a bird.” Sophie shook her head. She slipped her arms into the coat and cocked an ear to listen. “I think it’s coming from over there, beneath the boardwalk.”

The sun had risen past the horizon now, tinging the clouds with a beautiful rosy glow that recalled the summer sunsets they’d enjoyed here together. Isaac wanted to grab Sophie’s hand and ask her if she remembered the sunsets, but it didn’t seem appropriate now. He was just glad she’d stopped crying. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of wagons and the cry of the seagulls, actual birds. They sounded nothing like the wails coming from beneath the promenade.

“My gods!” Isaac exclaimed. “I think you’re right. That’s–”

“Definitely not a bird,” Sophie exclaimed.

They both took off running toward the promenade, but Sophie reached the tightly woven seagrass basket first. It was full of colorful rags and long strands of velvety seaweed. At the center, most improbably, was a pink-cheeked infant! Her golden blond curls clung to her scalp in wet ringlets. Her fingers were practically blue with the cold and there was a fine, lacelike rash on her arms. This did nothing to diminish how beautiful she was. She was probably the most gorgeous baby that Isaac had ever seen. He blinked twice.

“Is that what I think it is?” Isaac gasped.

“We need to bring her back to the hotel.” Sophie already had her coat off, and was trying to swaddle the infant in it.

“Wait, Sophie.” Isaac took off his own coat and handed it to her. “Put your coat back on. You’re already chilled to the bone, I’m sure. I can just hear what your mother would say.”

“We need to warm her up.” Sophie rocked the baby in her arms and massaged her limbs. “She’s got some kind of rash. I think she might be sick. We have to get her back to our room immediately.”

“Don’t you think we ought to send for someone?” Isaac frowned. “The police?”

“To what end?” Sophie’s eyes darkened and her brows knit together.

“To find her parents?” Isaac spoke carefully.

“What kind of parents would leave a child on a frigid beach to die?” Sophie held the child to her chest, rocking it to soothe it. Isaac had to admit it was working. The baby stared at him placidly now, her large green eyes like twin gems.

“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. “But what if that’s not what happened? What if she was kidnapped?”

“Well, then, I suppose we’ll read about it in the news, won’t we?” Sophie replied in a singsong voice, speaking more to the baby than to her husband. The child leaned into her, resting its cheek against her breastbone. She felt as if her heart might stop. An hour ago, she’d felt as though her whole life was crumbling, too weak to go on. And now she felt strong enough to slay dragons, if such things existed.

“What is your name?” Sophie cooed. “Wherever did you come from?” Her sing-song words were rhythmic, timed with the graceful bouncing and swaying motions she was performing to keep the baby calm and soothed. It was almost like she was doing ballet. Isaac had never seen her dance this way before. He didn’t even know his wife knew how to do ballet. He stared at the two of them.

The baby was looking into Sophie’s eyes now. He could see tears forming in his wife’s eyes again. But not the same tears. These tears welled up without spilling over. They didn’t make her lids any redder or make her eyes swell. They made her eyes shine.

“Isaac?” Sophie murmured. “Do you think there’s any chance we might–”

“Consider moving to Brighton Beach?” Isaac finished her sentence and stepped closer. He should have been cold, but the golden light of the sun settled around him like a blanket. He began to bounce and sway, matching his wife’s rhythm.

“I was going to say something else.” Sophie’s brow furrowed a bit, and Isaac suppressed the urge to press a finger to her forehead, to smooth it out.

“I know.” He smiled. “But I was one step ahead of you. I was thinking this might be a nice place to raise a family.” Seeing that the infant was falling asleep, he was whispering now.

A single tear spilled out from Sophie’s eye and landed on the child’s cheek. For a moment, the tear sparkled like a prism, orange sunlight creating the illusion of an iridescent patch of skin.

Isaac’s shoes brimmed with sand, but he continued to step and sway from side to side. He reached out his arms to Sophie.

“Do you think I might have a turn holding her now?”