Page 27 of The Witches Catalogue of Wanderlust Essentials (Natural Magic #2)

Chapter 15

Between Two Worlds

I t was well past midnight, and Goldie was awake. She’d had a hard time sleeping for the past two weeks. This was unusual for her. She’d always slept soundly. But lately, the sound of the crashing waves kept waking her up.

Something about meeting Cosimo had emboldened her. She no longer confined herself to the sidewalk. Lately she’d been walking on the beach. She walked right up along the edge of the waterline, chasing the bubbles as they sank back into the sand. Once or twice she’d worried that she’d gone too far this time. She worried that she might have come too close to the creeping tide. And then she’d set some boundaries.

“No!” She pointed a finger at the water and scolded it every time it came too close to her bare feet.

Immediately, the water receded.

This had only emboldened her. She crept even closer, following the waves as they swept back out to sea.

“Don’t even think about it!” Goldie shouted at the next wave cresting. It turned in on itself, flattened out, and headed back to sea. She wanted to believe she had done it, but it made little sense. Who was she to tell the ocean what to do?

It was a fun game, however, and it had almost made her feel safe. For the first time in her life, she felt brave enough to explore the tidepools full of tiny hermit crabs, orange sea stars, and purple urchins.

She’d been doing great, right up until the morning when she saw the tiny sea turtle struggling, upside down in the shallows. Without even thinking about it, she’d stepped right in to save him.

The rash was painful, and the peeling afterward was ugly. But it hadn’t been the end of the world. Far from it. She hadn’t died. That night, one of the few she’d slept soundly, she’d dreamt she was swimming under the water. Someone kept calling her name. She could still hear the echo of that voice she couldn’t quite place. It felt like it ought to be familiar.

Tonight, the sky was clear and the full moon gleamed, reflected in the rippling fountain at the center of the “Grotto.” Goldie rose from bed, pulled on a robe and padded out to her sculpture garden to admire her own handiwork.

Kitty the whale with her delicate pattern of delft blue tiles and Fausto, the hot pink Seahorse, shone in the starlight, their mirrored bits making the most of the light.

Over in the corner, the wooden bench swing rocked gently in the night breeze. Or was it Octavia the Octopus’s purple pebbled glass embrace that supplied the movement? Her tentacles wound their way through the slats, cozying up to anyone who sat there.

Even the smallest of her creations, Gary, the orange Garibaldi lantern, glowed brightly in the branches he was suspended from. Lit from within, he appeared happy to be swimming through a “kelp” forest of tree branches.

Of all the homes Goldie had inhabited for the past hundred years, this one felt the most like her own. She wasn’t pretending for anyone here. She’d poured her heart and soul into these creations, accepting the inspiration without questioning its source for once.

Barefoot, she paced the perimeter, touching each one of her tiled creations as she passed, as if they were more than mounds of glass and mortar. She caressed them tenderly, as if they were her sleeping children.

She paused by the sea turtle, her newest creation, inspired by the beach rescue. She had yet to name him, and he was nearly complete. Goldie was quite pleased with how he was coming together from bits of tumbled brown and green glass and salvaged Catalina tiles. She was proud of the detail on the flippers. It had been painstaking to cut and grind the tiles just so, and she’d injured herself a few times. But it was worth it.

Goldie glanced down at her hands, surprised to see that all of those injuries healed now, almost miraculously, without a single scar. She clenched and unclenched her hands, noticing that the stiffness that had plagued her and hindered her creativity in recent years was also gone. The wrinkled skin on the back of her hands had smoothed itself out. The age spots were gone. Her skin felt softer, plumper, and more resilient.

When she crossed to stare at her own reflection in the fountain, there was no mistaking it. She had definitely made a change. It wasn’t just how she felt; it was how she looked as well. Or could it just be a trick of moonlight? As she waved a hand above the water, she watched her image change, from a smooth surfaced version of her young self to old and rippled, then back again.

In the distance, she could hear the ever-present pounding of the waves. Each one seemed to call her true name. Onda … crash. Lune…. sigh. The sound of the water receding through tumbling stones on the beach was like a summoning spell. Around her and her stone companions, the empty night swelled. The wind was full of calls and echoes that only reminded her of her loneliness. She knew she would not sleep any more. She was far too restless to lie still in her bed. Goldie had to move.

Goldie crossed back through the garden and stepped into the mudroom to pull on her wellies. She swapped her robe for a long raincoat. She could take her walk now and sleep in the morning.

One foot in front of the other, she made her way down the hill. She felt she wasn’t walking so much as flowing through the cool, humid night. The motion was soothing. It grounded her, chasing away the emptiness. Soon she broke into a jog, the beat of her feet matching the rhythm of the waves that called to her.

When was the last time she had run like this? Not since she’d felt the twinges and pains of her old age. It had been late to arrive, but it had eventually crept up on her. It had to have been thirty years since she’d run like this, so freely, with no pain whatsoever. She laughed out loud, raising her arms, fanning out her fingers and sweeping her hands through the air as if she were doing the breaststroke. Behind her, her hair lifted on the wind, streaming out like a flag. If anyone had been watching, they might have thought her mad. She didn’t care. She ran into the night, speeding toward the sea, as if she were racing home. As if she was still in a dream.

Perhaps that was what this was? Her dreams had certainly grown more vivid of late.

Goldie jogged past the Casino and down the path toward the rocky beach. There the waves were crashing in bursts of brilliant white bioluminescent light. Serendipity. There had been no word of the phenomenon on the news or the radio. It made her feel special to be the only one there to see. Like the show was being put on just for her.

The stones and sand crunched beneath her feet as she got closer. The surf was screaming her name now, but she kept running right up to and into the water’s edge, delighted at the patterns that swirled around her tall waterproof boots. So delighted that she didn’t even notice the icy sting of the tiny droplets that splashed onto her arms, leg, and face.

“Ondalune? What are you doing?” someone shouted. The familiar voice rang out from the shadows of a beach cabana, breaking her reverie.

She spun around, so surprised to find that she was not alone, that she was disoriented for a moment. A wave broke behind her, causing her to lose her footing and filling one of her boots with ice cold ocean water. She flinched at the jolt of electricity that shot through her body and stumbled back toward the land and the voice in the night.

“Is that you, Cosimo?” she managed to croak as she flung herself onto the sand. Her skin was crawling, as if the water in the boot contained a thousand stinging jellyfish. She could feel her right foot beginning to swell. She had to get the boot off. Quickly.

She could see him now, headed down the beach toward her. His black hair shone in the moonlight, and his dark eyes glittered. Gone were the hat and gloves. He was dressed simply, wearing a black T-shirt, running shorts, and a pair of running shoes without socks. His long, dark limbs were lithe and toned. His skin was perfect. Sleek and smooth, gleaming in the cold night air, as if he were carved of stone. His body was as timeless as his face, and just as much a mystery to her. She fell sideways as the boot dislodged.

“What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?” She wasn’t in so much pain as to miss how little he was wearing. She noticed the complete absence of gooseflesh on his body, despite the chill that was in the air. A chill she had just become acutely aware of herself.

Her teeth were chattering. The hem of her thin cotton nightgown had also gotten soaked. She lifted it away from her skin, closing her eyes, in part to will away the stinging, and also because she was afraid to look. Last time she’d gotten lucky. But who knew how long it would take her to heal from this exposure? Her doctors had warned her that the disease could become progressive, each reaction worsening. What had she been thinking, acting out so recklessly? Foolishly.

Cosimo dropped to the sand beside her.

“What am I doing here in my running clothing?” His velvety voice wrapped around her like a warm, dry towel. There was a hint of laughter and wonder to it. “I think I told you about my condition. It’s made me into a creature of the night. I stopped to admire the bioluminescence. And now, perhaps you want to tell me why you are glowing?”

Goldie opened one eye cautiously to survey the damage. A moment later, both her eyes flew open. He wasn’t kidding.

It wasn’t just her foot. Tiny bright speckles sparkled all over her body like a map of the heavens. Everywhere the water had splashed against her glowed with an otherworldly iridescent sheen. The tiny spots practically pulsed with a blue-green light. Suddenly, her skin felt like it was growing too tight. She couldn't swallow. Goldie recalled the doctor’s warning again. She tried to speak, but gasped instead. How short the distance to the ocean had been, and how far the distance to her house, where she kept her emergency injections, was now.

“Ondalune?” Cosimo stared at her, concern radiating from the depths of his unfathomably dark eyes.

Why are you using that name? The edges of her world were ruffling like wind across the water.

And then his arms were around her, paradoxically cold and warm at once.

“Shhhh,” he soothed, whispering in her ear. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She didn’t have the energy to protest as he held her foot in his hands, massaging the sting away. His cool touch put an immediate stop to the prick of pins and stab of needles. It left only a trail of warmth in its wake. From here, he moved up her legs, gently extinguishing the pinpricks of light on her knees and the back of one thigh. Then he moved on to her arm. Finally, his hands raked through her hair, erasing the white dots that clung to her strands. His touch left behind golden streaks that she hadn’t seen for decades. After he kissed her cheek, he bent his head and exhaled against her collarbone. She felt the dry winds of a distant desert chasing the last vestiges of the sea’s damp ache away.

By the time he lifted his head and released her, she was completely dry and back to her normal self.

Not that there was anything normal about her. Of this she had never been more sure.

“What were you thinking, Ondalune?” Cosimo rested his head in his hands.

Goldie didn’t have any answers. Only questions.

“Who are you really, Cosimo?” She swallowed, staring out past the surf where she could see a pair of dolphins chasing each other. Their glowing trails formed a helix that was completely intertwined. The tide was turning, and she swore she could hear them calling to one another to head back out into the channel. “And what am I?”