Page 30 of The Scent of Salt & Sand

Pushing aside her trepidation and focusing on the happiness Dean brought, she twirled around the living room. Nearly tripping over her gift, she let out a breathy laugh and steadied herself against an accent table.

Her gaze lingered on the vibrant leaves before lifting to meet her reflection’s. Her cheeks were bubblegum pink with mirth, and she pressed her cool fingers against them. She’d answered the door without putting on any makeup, but that didn’t matter. The skin around her eyes and lips remained smooth, and her forehead wrinkled only when she lifted her eyebrows. She stared at herself intently, raising each eyebrow one at a time, and feeling extraordinarily human when unlined skin rested across her still brow.

She dropped her hands, releasing the card onto the table. The back of the card stared up at her, and on it the words To: Mel.

“Mel?” She cringed.

A nauseating palpitation took hold inside her chest, squeezing her lungs and forcing her breath out in labored grunts.

I love you, Mel. The shadow of a dream stirred and her vision doubled. Over the past month she’d gotten better at holding the flickering visions at bay, but she needed answers and today she had more than images. She had a name.

She darted from the living room and raced to her bedside table. She grabbed her phone and pressed the blue Internet icon, thankful she’d listened to all of the technology tutorials Harmony had bored them with.

“Okay, Google, if you can bring me information about anything in this realm, show me Melanie Blackwell.” She jabbed the search square and waited the 0.14 seconds for Google to return with an answer. “Wow.” She rolled the phone over, expecting to see residue from some sort of other-realmly magic. “You’re fast.”

There were pages and pages of results. Too many if Melody wanted to continue living her own life. “Hmm.” She squinted, forcing herself to remember more of the dream. “Melanie Blackwell, St. David’s. And search.” The second search result made her feel like her heart was lodged in her throat.

Melanie Lane Blackwell Obituary—Visitation and Funeral Information—Floral Haven.

With a shaky finger, she tapped the blue lettering. The obituary was short, mentioning the family members she was survived by, the career at St. David’s she’d worked the entirety of her short life to excel at, and the fiancé she’d loved dearly. Melody scrolled down to the page’s “Memories” section and read boxes and boxes of well wishes and comments left by friends and family. Hillary Kerns had posted a picture with the caption, Such a happy day!

Melody couldn’t move. She could barely breathe as she studied the women in the picture. One was Melanie. She recognized her from her photo accompanying the obituary. Her deep brown doe eyes glistened off the screen as she smiled at the camera, showing off her left hand and the sparkling diamond ring perched on her finger. The same ring Melody had seen in her vision, flickering and ghostlike, on her first day working at Siren Tours. But what made the pit in her stomach deepen, threatening to swallow her whole, was the woman Melanie clutched next to her.

She swiped her fingers over the image, zooming in on the woman’s smiling face. “I know her.”

Three swift knocks echoed from the door. Melody flinched so hard she lost her grip on the phone. It slapped against the floor. The knocks repeated, this time with more force. Melody plucked her phone up off of the carpet, slipped it into her pocket, and tightened the robe around her before scurrying down the hall.

“That was quick.” The last word came out a strained whisper.

“I won’t bother to ask who you were expecting.” Melody’s stomach knotted as Rhapsody’s predatory glare traced her body.

“Don’t be rude, Melody,” Harmony scolded.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She cleared her throat and offered a sweeping gesture toward the living room. “Please, come in.”

Rhapsody brushed past her, sliding off her trench coat and tossing it across Melody’s shoulder. Sand-crusted droplets seeped through Melody’s bathrobe, spreading sticky salt against her skin.

“Rhapsody just arrived,” Harmony explained.

“And you are the first one of my girls I wanted to see.” Beads of water dripped from Rhapsody’s hair and splatted around her feet.

Melody lifted her gaze from the floor, taking in the gentle slopes of Rhapsody’s body. “Me? Why me?” she asked, even though she already knew.

Rhapsody wore her true skin as she would a tailored suit. Streaks of sunlight glinted off her honey-colored scales, and they rippled shades of deep gold the dim light in Tartarus could never reveal.

Harmony sighed. “We’re aging quickly. We don’t have much time left, and you’re not doing what has to be done.”

“Yes I am.” Her meek tone revealed the lie.

Rhapsody scoffed. “Harmony tells me you’ve been with the same man for weeks now, yet he’s still alive. You mustn’t play with your food, my dear.”

“But I’m not. I—”

“Stop lying!” Rhapsody barked with unabashed ferocity, her carnivorous gaze fastened to Melody. “At least you seem to be good at one thing. Your makeup looks…” She took a step closer, squinting.

Oh no. Melody’s stomach clenched. Please don’t notice I’m not wearing any. Please. She flinched as each of Rhapsody’s inspective looks struck her clean skin.

“Wonderful. Completely flawless.”