Of Songs and Seashells: Magically Ever After, #2

By T.M. Franklin

An immortal woman.
An ancient curse.
A deadly pact.

Lily has roamed the earth for centuries, unable to die but also unable to truly live, lest her secret be discovered.

 

Unfortunately, saving a young boy from an almost-deadly accident attracts a handsome stranger's rapt attention.

 

He sees her in a way few others have before, putting them both at risk and awakening an ancient curse.

 

After years of searching and nearly losing all hope, Lily's finally found something—and someone—to live for. But will that be enough to save them from what is coming?

 

Equal parts puzzle and page-turner, Of Songs and Seashells is a modern continuation of the classic fairy tale The Little Mermaid. We promise you've never read anything quite like it before. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.M. Franklin
• Release date: May 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201629816

Book preview

Prologue

Then

It was the most painful kind of betrayal. Her beloved sea—the warm, salted waters that had been her home, her refuge for her whole life—turned its back on her, dragging her down until her lungs burned with the lack of air.

She’d never needed it before. Air. But during her brief time among the humans, she’d learned to appreciate its freshness, the soothing balm of breathing . . . the taste of scents on her tongue.

Beneath the wild surface of the ocean, there was no air . . . no relief from the aching pressure on her chest. And her two legs were all but useless fighting against the sea’s persistent pull.

She gazed up at the shadow of the ship’s bulk above her, longing for the impossible. He’d turned his back on her. Broken her heart, and—unknowingly as it might have been—condemned her to death.

Well, she could have saved herself, of course. If she’d taken his life, she could have returned to the sea . . . her family . . . her life before. She’d come close. Had stood over his bed on her shaking, worthless legs, a knife clutched in her hand as she gazed down at him and his new wife, her own heart aching with loss.

But in the end, she just couldn’t do it. Even though she knew it would be the end of her own life, she couldn’t take his to save her own.

No.

No, she loved him even then.

So she’d staggered to the deck of the ship and cast the knife into the waves. Was it her imagination that the water turned red where it fell, drops like blood splashing up before the sea claimed the weapon for its own? With one last glance toward his chamber, she climbed over the gunwale and threw herself into the churning water, resigned to oblivion.

It might not be so bad, she’d thought as she plunged into the depths. To become sea foam. Traveling along the surface of the water for all eternity. Would she even be aware of it?

She saw the sky lighten beyond the surface of the water. A new dawn, perhaps the last she’d ever see. Would she feel the sun’s warmth upon her when she was nothing more than mist?

Did it matter?

Cold seeped into her fingertips, her toes, working its way from the surface of her skin through muscle and bone until a heavy numbness settled through her being. It wasn’t so bad, dying, she realized. It was actually kind of peaceful. Perhaps it would simply be like falling asleep, drifting away into nothingness.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

It took a moment before she realized that the downward pull had stopped, and instead, she was floating toward the surface. When she broke through, she choked in surprise before dragging in deep lungfuls of pure, salted air. She was so stunned, so shocked by the all-consuming relief of breathing that it took a moment before she could comprehend that she was continuing to float upward, drawn out of the sea—up, up, up—until her bare toes left the water.

But she still didn’t stop.

What—what is happening? she gasped, surprised to find that her voice had returned. She laughed in sheer joy as she rose above the water, then let out a few trilling notes.

Her song was back, as well.

When she’d traded away her voice for a chance at love, she’d had no idea she would miss it so much, but as she rose into the sky, the sun warm on her face, music poured from her throat as if it had been waiting to reclaim its place.

The ship soon became a mere blot on the wide expanse of ocean blue. Was this death, she wondered. If so, it was not so terrible a thing. She turned away finally, looking up and around at the nearly cloudless sky, surprised to find others around her. Transparent beings floated about, then gathered around, their movements warm breezes against her skin.

Who are you? she asked.

Daughters of the air, they responded.

They’d told her then why she’d been spared, how her selflessness had given her a second chance.

Three hundred years of good deeds, and one day, she could claim her immortal soul.

At the time, she’d been grateful for her reprieve . . . honored by the calling.

Thrilled at the possibilities.

But it turns out, for every gift, there is a price.

And three hundred years of good deeds? Such a thing is easier said than done.

ONE

Now

Lily sat on the cliff edge, feet dangling freely over the 150-foot drop, the sea breeze ruffling her hair. It blew across her eyes and she fingered it lightly, studying the strands.

Pink. She’d chosen the color on a whim, then completely forgotten about it. Forgotten about many things, actually, her hair being the least of her worries.

With a sigh, she brushed her fingers through her hair, willing the shaved sides to grow out, the pink to lighten to a platinum hue. When she’d been a child, changing her hair had been a favored pastime, and she’d spent hours with her sisters playing dress up and . . .

She stopped that train of thought before it could go any further. Thinking about her sisters only brought pain, and Lily’d had enough pain lately.

Enough for a lifetime, actually.

She pondered the blonde for a moment, then darkened it slightly to a golden, streaky tone, the cut shoulder-length and simple. Better not to stand out, after all. Over the years she’d learned that moving to a new place, a new home, went much smoother if she tried to fit in.

Better to be invisible than to be too noticeable.

Lily toyed with the earring she always wore, blue-green glass she’d had as long as she could remember—the only remnant of her old life. Sometimes she indulged in a bit of self-pity, of what-ifs, imagining what the past decades might have been like if she’d never left her home and family for a dream that would never be.

But there wasn’t much point to it, so Lily tried not to think about it very often.

She stood, unable to resist the call of the sea any longer, and with a deep breath, she leapt off the cliff, riding the air currents upward for a long moment. The sensation still sent a thrill through her, the ability to fly a dizzying high only equaled by the stomach-dropping feeling of diving toward the churning waves. She sliced the surface, all sounds muted as she plunged into the murky blue-green depths. Even now, it felt like her true home, the water warm and welcoming, though most would find it bone-chillingly cold and dark.

A remnant of her old life. Same as her song.

Same as her scream.

Peace settled under her skin as she propelled herself through the water, but no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t stay under for long. The need for air drove her up until she broke the surface with a deep, breathless gasp. The sea was calm today, and she floated on her back in the rolling waves for a moment, before diving under once again.

Oh, how she longed to stay.

She couldn’t, though. Lily had boxes to unpack, supplies to purchase, plenty of things to do other than frolicking in the ocean. She moved to the surface and stroked lazily toward the shore, her eyes drifting toward the cliff where her little cottage stood framed by pine trees. A home, at last. At least for a little while.

Lily had lost track of how long she’d wandered this time. Weeks? Months, perhaps? She’d seen the ad for a seaside cottage on the Internet and decided to purchase it without even visiting the town. It was quiet, isolated, and close to the sea. That was all she’d really needed to know. She longed to settle. Rest. Away from people and any other creatures that could cause her harm. Or even those who simply might need her help.

All Lily wanted was to be left alone.

A movement caught her attention and she frowned. A young boy was walking along the cliff edge, making his way toward a steep path that led to the beach below. He stumbled and a shower of rocks rolled down the path, but before Lily could even open her mouth to try and shout a warning, the edge gave way, and the boy slipped over with a terrified shriek. He clung to the side of the cliff, white-knuckled fist tight around a protruding root, his screams nearly swallowed by the roar of the sea.

Nobody would hear him. Nobody but Lily.

She cursed under her breath and shot up from the water, riding the air currents to the boy as fast as they could carry her. His grip on the root slipped and he cried out before it broke off altogether, sending him plunging toward the shore below.

Lily got there in time. She caught him in her arms and floated up to the cliff edge, landing with a few quick steps before she dropped to her knees, her heart pounding with fear and worry.

She set the boy on his feet, running her hands over his arms, looking for injuries. Are you all right? she asked. When he only sobbed in reply, she took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake. Are you hurt?

The boy hiccupped and shook his head, unable to speak.

Lily let out a relieved sigh and frowned at the frightened boy. It’s all right, she said, pushing back her own fear and forcing a note of gruff, yet reassuring calm into her voice. You’re okay.

His face was wet with tears, snot trickling from his nose, and Lily grimaced, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. Of course, she was wearing soaking wet shorts and a t-shirt, so she had nothing to offer him. She glanced toward her cottage, then back at the boy. Lily knew she should send him on his way, preferably with a stern talking to so he never came back.

But he was just so incredibly pathetic.

Would you like some chocolate milk? she asked him before she could think too much about it. That always makes me feel better.

The boy, still gasping, hesitated, then nodded slowly.

Do you think you can walk? she asked. Or should I carry you?

Fear pushed aside for a moment, the boy looked affronted. I can walk, he rasped, his voice still clogged with tears.

All right then. She stood and waved him along. Let’s go.

He fell into step next to her, and she could feel his eyes on her.

I don’t know you, he said. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.

She cast him a sideways glance. We could forget the chocolate milk and you could go back to wherever you came from.

The boy chewed on his lip for a moment, considering. I guess it’s okay, he said finally.

She nodded curtly.

I’m Wyatt, he said.

She nodded again.

He stopped and gave her an annoyed look. What’s your name?

Were children always so pushy? It’d been awhile since Lily had spent time with any of them. Lily generally avoided children. She avoided everyone.

She crossed her arms. Lily, she replied.

There, he said, taking a little hop as he started toward the cottage again. Now we’re not strangers.

Lily couldn’t keep from barking out a little surprised laugh.

They entered the cottage and she led him through the maze of unpacked boxes to the small bathroom, letting him wash his face while she went to put on some dry clothes. She found him sitting at the kitchen table when she returned and smiled at him before she dug in an open box sitting on the butcher block countertop and pulled out two glasses. You’re lucky I stopped for milk on the way, she said, grabbing the half-empty carton out of the ancient fridge, then a container of chocolate milk mix from another box.

Wyatt looked around at the mess, his fingers tapping against his legs. I didn’t know anyone lived here, he said.

Lily poured two glasses of milk and scooped in some chocolate, stirring it briskly. I only moved in yesterday, she said. Haven’t even had a chance to go into town yet.

She placed one glass in front of him, then moved a box out of the way so she could sit across from him. You’re kind of young to be wandering around up here all by yourself, aren’t you?

The boy’s blue eyes narrowed as he gulped the milk. He lowered the glass, revealing a chocolate mustache across his upper lip. I’m almost eleven, he said, offense clear in his tone.

Lily arched a brow. "Well, you almost didn’t get there, she said. The cliffs are dangerous."

Wyatt swallowed at the memory. I wasn’t paying attention, he admitted finally. I got distracted by a cool-looking rock and tripped.

Lily nodded. Rocks can be distracting.

He took another sip of milk, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. After a moment, he set the glass down with a thud. How did you do that? he asked.

She tried not to let him see her stiffen. Do what?

You— He squinted at her, as if trying to work out a puzzle. How did you save me?

I heard you fall, and I managed to grab you and pull you up, she said slowly. Like perhaps Wyatt wasn’t that bright. Lucky for you.

No, Wyatt replied, lifting his chin slightly. "You didn’t pull me up. You caught me."

She snorted. No. I pulled you up. How in the world could I have caught you?

You flew!

Lily gave him an incredulous look. Sweetie, I can’t fly. That doesn’t make any sense.

I know what I saw.

You were scared out of your mind.

I still know what I saw. The boy was stubborn. "You caught me, and you carried me up to the top. Don’t lie. That’s wrong."

I’m not lying.

Are too!

Am not! Lily felt about ten years old herself. Look, kid. I don’t know what to tell you. She shrugged and leaned back to sprawl casually in her chair. You have an active imagination.

His eyes narrowed. Challenge accepted.

Are you a fairy?

Lily snorted. Now she was offended. No.

A witch?

No.

He screwed up his face, obviously trying to think of other creatures that could fly. A pegasus?

Surprised, Lily laughed. Are you saying I look like a horse?

He shrugged. A shapeshifting pegasus?

She said nothing, and Wyatt stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. I get it. It’s a secret, he said. If anyone knew, it could cause trouble for you.

It’s not—

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. That’s what always happens in my books. People are afraid of things they don’t understand. When they’re afraid, they get mean.

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Lily asked, Are you sure you’re only ten?

Wyatt grinned. Uncle Bash says I’m too smart for my age.

I bet he does.

Don’t worry, he said. I won’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to be up here anyway. If you get in trouble, I get in trouble.

There’s nothing to tell!

But I won’t. He gave her a steady look. And you won’t either, right?

Lily wanted to argue, but what was the point. Right.

Wyatt’s smile lit up his whole face. Cool, he said. Does that mean we’re friends? I’ve never had a friend who could fly before.

Lily rolled her eyes and got up to take both glasses to the sink. She handed Wyatt a paper towel. Wipe your face and I’ll give you a ride home, she said. When his eyes widened with excitement, she added, "In my car."

His shoulders fell a little, but he got up and followed her out the door. Can I come back again? he asked.

Probably not a good idea. The last thing she needed was a kid hanging around.

Wyatt frowned. Why not?

Man, this kid was exhausting. We’ll see.

That’s what grownups say then they mean no.

"Well, that’s what I say when I mean we’ll see." Lily opened the passenger door of her little car so he could get in.

He climbed in and buckled his seat belt. "You really won’t tell my grandma, will you? She’d be