[SEVEN . KIMORA] // ARE YOU ONE OF THE CURED KIDS

Paul kisses me goodbye but I don't want him or Marko to leave.

I need comfort and someone to blame. I'm perfect, I'm supposed to be as perfect as I can possibly be but how could I be? I just killed someone with magic, magic that was supposed to save.

They must never know that I altered my magic, that I planned to trap the girl's soul and instead ended up stopping her heart. It had to be done if I wanted to protect my friends, to protect both the witches and vampires of Santa Carla.

"Are you sure?" Marko looks at me from beside Darla who rests on him. "Are you sure that we have to leave?"

The girl's corpse lays covered with a dirty old beach towel someone had stuffed in the blades of a severed jet engine. I sigh and pull away from Paul who reluctantly lets me go. I wonder if would he do the same if he knew that I ended her life.

Paul's hunting was something he loathed though it was necessary. He only hunted those he deemed cruel or rude. I would qualify too because I, Kimora of the coven of sharp stones did what I did to protect those I love.

"Yes." I look off towards the bright world of the boardwalk seemingly one hundred miles away, coated in the magic and wonder that children dream of but hiding the nightmares that creep into seemingly innocent dreams.

I turn my back on them and look towards the cold waters that snake towards the red line of caution. The salt is stronger here, almost reminding me of the vampire's cave but it's different here and for some reason, I can't put a finger on why.

The moon, a deep silver reflects off the waters, staying stagnant despite its anger. A puff of seafoam washes towards me, kissing my shoes before floating away and sinking under the midnight waves.

I look back, expecting the vampires to still be waiting but instead of the colorful embroidery of Marko's jacket or the soft blue gaze of Paul, it's Darla.

"We aren't invoking any spirits." Her dark eyes train on me. "Not ones that we were warned not to. Not only you but me."

"Then I will." I turn back to the waters, reaching down to plant my fingers into the sand.

The waves react to the magic in my blood, swimming forward to cool my fingertips without an incantation or spell. The orange of my magic explodes, flaring up and then falling into the waters before shifting into a new color and matching with the waves.

"Come to me. Come to me. Come to me." I close my eyes.

The waters open to me, not like they would to just any witch but as they would to a witch who has studied the magic of the tides, learned of the gods who protected them, and was drawn to them.

I am none of those things but it's coming to me far too easy. As easy as it is for Angel to grow plants with her hands with a gentle guide or Darla to evoke the darkness at her will. Here the water is coming to me and I can hear the spirits speaking in a strange language through the bubbling of the blue-capped spear.

"Kimora, stop it."

I walk closer to the waves, feeling the pressure of them thrashing against my ankles.

"Kimora!"

My eyes rip open as the magic of the waves leaves me cold in an instant and the souls forget about my magic.

The water grabs me but I manage to pull myself out of the dark blue, staggering up to the sand with Darla snatching me by the hand up the mounds.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Darla shoves me so hard that I barely have time to react. I hit the sand as she stands above, black sparks of fog moving around her fingertips and up and down her palms.

Before I leap up and pull her down with me, she throws her hands out to the left, not at me. Her fingers start to shake, eyes wide as she looks out at the strengthening waves and the human-sized shadow gliding across the blue.

"What?" I point and pull myself up, the pain burning in the deepest parts of my spine no match to the fear of what that could be.

I didn't call any god, all I called was the waves and that was out of sheer reaction of being so close to the magic. To the spirits speaking their own tongues that I wanted so badly to understand.

The figure walks on the water, with no hesitation or anything. Just one foot over the other, face covered by some obstruction that seems to be an ever-shifting cloak hood. Its head stays stuck in place, with no movement.

A golden gaze flashes as the figure makes it over to us, a dark face under the hood of the cloak that flows down over fine muscles and a lean body. He's ethereal, glowing in silver like the millions of miniature chains that hang at his throat, all shimmering and shining like the moon herself.

A silky voice flows from the cloaked spirit. "Two children, calling upon gods and goddesses you have no comprehension of."

His face balls up with controlled anger as he finally stops, hands pressed to his side. The waves keep him afloat, calming at the very softening of his voice.

"I called no one." I defend myself, biting down on my tongue so hard that I can taste the blood on my tongue.

"But you were going to." He's blunt and cold, looking at me with some strange hatred.

"Maybe so." I say.

"We're sorry, we'll leave." Darla clamps her hand on my wrist.

The spirit shakes his head, the colors in his cloak turning a dark shade of purple. "No. You have unfinished business and I can tell that you have plans of doing it in the waters. The waters do not belong to mankind, whether they are completely human or not so all things go through me."

"What are you?" I ask.

The spirit blinks. "What are you?"

I take a deep breath and step forward towards the shoreline, lifting my voice as the creature stands still like a predator waiting to leap on its prey.

"We are witches."

"I know." The creature blinks again. "Water witchling."

That can't be true. I've never felt connected to the waters. But I did hear those voices, despite them all being incoherent.

"I haven't found my permanent magic yet." I stand closer to my sister, inspecting the figure as the waters start to flow faster.

The figure closes it's eyes again, shutting off the bright gold.

"I am a soul of the sea that got out and you are an idiot who the waters listen to. The gods won't like you very well or the spirits." The figure grins, teeth so white that it resembles the snow-capped mountains of home.

Darla whips around. "What is all of this about?"

"I don't know, honest."

The figure narrows it's eyes. "Quite frankly, I don't like you either. I could drag you under these waves until you drown and feed my fish with your flesh but that wouldn't be that productive of me, would it?"

Darla doesn't say anything but I can tell the threat has scared her. It would scare me too if it wasn't for the fact that whatever could come next might be worst than the latter.

"My spirits are hungry for revenge and now it's up to you to feed them those who hurt them."

"How?" I echo as the winds howl, tugging at my hair. All this is unreal. It's no way that this isn't some dream that I've been trapped in.

The being looks to the beach towel, extending a long and crooked finger. "Like that."

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