I panicked as the churning wave rolled me over, and choked when gritty seawater filled my nose and mouth. If I could stand, I knew it wouldn't be very deep, but I couldn't seem to get my feet under me.

Then the wave reached its maximum stretch, and for a moment the water was almost still. I felt sand under my hands and knees and broke the surface choking and gasping for air. The shoreward rush had actually pushed me farther onto the beach, and normally I'd be high and dry.

Now I struggled to my feet in water that reached above my knees, and took a few stumbling steps shoreward. Then the wave began its retreat.

It felt like something grabbed my ankles and yanked them from under me. Desperately clawing at the pebbly sand, I tried to keep the wave from dragging me backward into deeper water. If I got pulled into a channel, I'd drown for sure.

Another incoming wave hit me from behind as the retreating one dragged me from below. I went under, helpless in the water's grip.

Maybe it was real, or maybe I imagined it, but even with my eyes squeezed shut I realized I could 'see' the water's energy all around me.

Ropey tendrils of it wrapped around my legs like the tentacles of a monster, pulling me to its heart. Yet even as my lungs burned and panic scattered my thoughts, I realized it wasn't malevolent.

I'd called out to it, and it had simply answered.

Perhaps sensing its legacy in the salt of my blood, the immense spirit of the sea had reached out to claim its own.

On instinct, I called out to it again in my mind, demanding that it let me go. I sent my whole will into the command, lacing it with whatever traces of power I had to give.

And to my relief, the sea released me, dropping me like a child losing interest in a toy. The wave flowed over and around me, benign as a draining bath, and left me choking and shivering in a few inches of foamy water.

Seconds later, I heard shouting and squinted through stinging eyes to see someone dashing towards me down the shore. The neighbor guy, I realized, as he slung an arm around me and dragged me to my feet. We stumbled together up to the dry sand and collapsed.

I lay stunned, and Neighbor Guy started making a lot of noise. Momentarily I realized he was speaking to me. Or shouting, to be exact.

"C'mon man, talk to me! You okay? Do you need an ambulance? Fuck's sake, say something!"

I blinked and tried to sit up. "I'm okay," I rasped.

My throat was raw from choking on sandy seawater, and my whole body started to shake with cold. The water was freezing this time of year.

"Oh my God. Thank God." He hung his head in relief. His skin was dark brown, and he looked lean and athletic. I guessed he was younger than me by a few years, early twenties maybe. "Shit, man," he said. "That was some scary shit. I never seen that before."

"What?" I asked, alarmed.

"A fuckin' freak wave," he said.

"Oh. Me either." For a second I'd been afraid he was talking about the magic.

I started coughing again. It hurt more this time, but in a different way. As the shock and cold wore off, the beating I'd taken against the rocks started to make itself known.

"Hey...Can you help me back to my house?" I asked, holding my ribs. It didn't seem like anything was broken, but bruises and scrapes hurt enough.

"Oh, yeah man. Sure." He helped me roughly to my feet, and I winced as he slipped an arm under mine and squeezed my bruised ribs. A somewhat torturous time later, we reached the top of the steps and the cliff.

I had to stop for a minute to catch my breath, and Neighbor Guy frowned.

"Dude, you don't look so good," he said.

"I'm fi—"

"Whoa!" He caught me before I fell. My left knee hurt, and the long climb hadn't done it any favors.

"I'm fine," I said, trying again. "Just help me get to my house."

He obliged, and a few minutes later we limped up to the porch and through the sliding glass doors.

"Thanks," I said, falling into one of the dining chairs and kicking off my sodden shoes. "I owe you one."

"Hey, don't mention it."

I suppose I should have said something more, or been more gracious somehow, but I was wet and cold, and there was sand in my everywhere.

Carefully, I pushed myself back to my feet. "I'm gonna change," I said. "Thanks again for the help."

I left him in the living room and went to take my second shower of the day.

Getting out of my clothes was an ordeal, and the first water than ran down the drain was pink with blood from the long shallow scrapes that grazed me from shoulder to hip. But besides this and an array of bruises, I was unhurt. If I'd struck my head, or if the rocks hadn't been so smooth, I would have fared much worse.

Warm and sand-free at last, I dried off and dressed in the softest, loosest clothing I could find. In the living room, I discovered that Neighbor Guy was still there.

"Hey," he waved. "I thought I should hang out and make sure you're okay."

"Oh. Thanks, er..." I realized I couldn't keep calling him Neighbor Guy forever. "I'm Ari, by the way."

"Christopher," he said, giving me a lopsided grin. "But call me Chris."

I moved gingerly to the sofa and sat down, and he dropped into a chair.

"So, like, that was something else, right?"

Clearly he was determined to make conversation. I figured the least I could do was entertain him for a few minutes, given that he'd saved my life—or at least been ready to.

"Yeah. I didn't even see it coming."

"What were you doing down there, anyway?" he asked.

"Um...meditating," I answered. It was the truth, after all, and I'd never been good at making up convincing lies.

"Oh?" To my surprise, he looked interested. "I noticed your tat," he pointed to the star on my forehead. "Are you a witch?"

That caught me off guard. "Er..."

"It's a magical symbol, right? I'm into that stuff myself."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it is. I'm not a witch, though." Was I?

"But you're into magic and stuff?"

I decided to go with a half-truth. "I study it. Academically, I mean. At the university."

"Wait—they teach magic?" He looked at me, incredulous.

This is why I hated talking about my field of study. "Not exactly. It's more like the history of the traditions and practices of ancient people, from an archaeological standpoint. " Maybe if I bored him, he'd leave.

"Sweet. I always thought history was cool. If I'd done the college thing I'd probably have studied something like that."

I decided to be polite. "So what do you do?"

His face brightened. "I'm a freelance music artist." He pulled his wallet out and handed me a card. Black sans serif font on a white background declared it belonged to "Christopher Nicks — Freelance Music Artist." I hoped his music was better than his graphic design skills.

"I guess I don't know much about the music industry," I offered. "Do you, like, play in clubs?"

He proceeded to tell me exactly what he did, in great detail. So much for me boring him. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, but he talked an awful lot, and forty-five minutes later I was beginning to wish I'd drowned after all.

"...and so my parents let me crash here and look after their place," he was saying. "Seems like a nice area, but kinda far from the city for my taste. What about you? You live alone?"

"Oh, no. My boyfriend lives here too," I said.

Something crossed his face, there and gone before I could read it. "Oh yeah? Where's he now?"

"Business trip." I glanced at the clock and decided to make my excuse. "Actually, I need to call him about something." I stood and shook his hand. He took it without hesitation. At least he wasn't homophobic. "It was really nice to meet you. And thanks again for earlier."

"No problem, man," he grinned. "We'll have to hang out again soon. Stay dry," he called as he let himself out. I stood for a moment and watched him walking back along the cliffs to the row of houses. About halfway there, he turned and caught me still watching him through the window. He waved, and I waved back.

I winced and turned away from the window. I really did need to call Soren, although for the moment I was actually glad he wasn't here. He already took a dim view of my decision to continue studying the practical side of magic, and almost getting myself killed by a basic element would likely not improve his opinion.

Fetching my phone, which I'd thankfully not taken on my walk, I dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail.

I sighed, but wasn't alarmed. His father's house was located in a dead zone. There were no cell signals, and even satellite data didn't work in the steep canyon geography. There was a landline though, and I tried that next.

No one picked up, and I didn't leave a message.

The feeling of frustration building in my chest made me nervous. I needed to be careful. There were a million ways to mess up a relationship, which most people learn by experience. But my experience was sorely lacking.

Before Soren, I'd had exactly one boyfriend, and been on a grand total of three dates. Two of which didn't count, because I didn't realize they were dates until they were over. I'm oblivious that way.

Deciding the best thing to do was not think about it, I made myself some toast and then headed for the university. I had important things to do too, after all.