Page 75 of Anchored to the Storm

“Confused?”

He rolled his neck. “Makes two of us. Think you’re up for lying in your bed?”

I wasn’t sure I could even keep my eyes open, much less walk out of the pool. “Sure.”

Styx waited…

I didn’t move.

He grumbled, “I’m like your goddamn knight on a white horse, carrying you to bed every time you fucking faint or grow fucking fangs.”

I laughed at the old coot as he scooped up my limp body and carried me out of the pool. Water dripped from my clothing, wetting his. “This relationship is a little twisted, Gramps.”

“Oh, gross.”

He set me on the bed. “And always taking your damn wet clothes off.” He pulled off my jeans and socks, then stripped my T-shirt over my head.

Suddenly, my stomach cramped violently. I groaned and rolled to my side, facing the water. “I think a troll is in my stomach, wearing razors for a hat and shoes.” A blanket was placed over me and tucked around my sides. Noma… I sighed. “You were there to see her do that.”

“When permitted.”

“I wish she were here now.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.” He stood. “Mind if I watch over you for a bit?”

Eyes closed and falling to sleep, I smirked. “Do I really have a choice?”

“Good point.”

Overhead lights were turned off—the brightness against my eyelids told me so—then I heard the old leather couch creak.

Sometimes it’s the little things that count most. “I love you, Grandpa.”

There was a gasp, then, “Good night, son.”

Sometime later that night, or early in the morning, I felt a wet nose play with mine. Still half asleep, I smiled. “Hi.”

Lips brushed mine. “W-Wake, Mad-G. T-Time.”

“Time for what?” Blindly, my lips searched for hers again.

“B-Blood and h-heart.”

My eyes shot open. “What does that mean?”

The couch behind her was empty. Where’s—I heard Styx’s bedroom door shut.

In the glow of the pool’s blue lighting, Saleeni was wearing some sort of seaweed crown. It was adorable on her, though somewhat creepy, decorated with pearls and odd human things like an old tiny fishing hook, a key, and an earring.

In her palms, she presented another seaweed headpiece. It also had pearls woven in, plus very old items: a pocket watch, a bronze spoon, and tiny wire eyeglasses.

In bed, I rested on an elbow, intently watching her beautiful face as she placed it on my head. “Saleeni⁠—”

She shook her head, holding the universal ‘Shh’ sign to her lips.

Instead of wanting me to talk, she gestured for me to join her in the water.

Enchanted by her calm presence, I got up and slowly walked down the stairs. With every step, I felt the water welcome me and ask for permission to guide me. Mind-blowing, yes, but natural, if that makes sense. It told me to trust her and the process.