There, resting in the palm of his tiny hand, was the source of the pulsing light.
The nautilus.
Its pink-yellow spiral glowed brighter.
Intrigued, Shelly approached it, her feet squelching as they pressed into the drenched carpet, one step after the other. Reaching out her hand, Shelly could see the delicate flesh of her fingertips illuminated by its strange glow. As if in response to her presence, the shell flashed faster and grew so bright that she had to squint. She froze when she heard a voice.
“My dear, sweet child. Go ahead. Don’t be afraid.” The voice was rich, and kind, and as deep as the sea itself. A voice full of laughter, it seemed to emanate from inside the shell.
“H-hello?” Shelly whispered, unable to take her eyes from the vibrant nautilus.
“Go ahead, dear . . . take it. It was my gift for you. Go on. Take it. Take it!”
Shelly touched the nautilus.
And fell through the floor.
Cold water enveloped Shelly as she plunged.
She spiraled down through what appeared to be tangles of kelp. What was happening to her? Where was she going? Finally, she somersaulted to a stop in a dim underwater cavern.
She began to swim, holding her breath, not sure where she was going but knowing she needed to find an exit, to find air. But seaweed snagged at her ankles, trapping her.
“Leave here . . . turn back!” came a tiny, pained voice as clear as day, even that far underwater.
Shelly looked down and saw faces on the seaweed. And with her heart racing and air running out, she realized it wasn’t seaweed at all, but withered gray life-forms with sallow eyes and gaping, contorted mouths. They were nothing she had ever studied or seen in the aquarium. They couldn’t be talking to her, though. She must have imagined it.
A current gripped her and sucked her down.
She tried to swim against it, but it was too strong. Her lungs ached, fit to burst.
Suddenly, an enormous crystal ball clamped around her, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. But then the water drained from the enclosure, and she was able to breathe, though she spluttered and spat and pounded her fists on the curved crystal.
“Help! Let me out!” she yelled. Everything looked distorted through the glass. She could barely make out the underwater cavern. Glass bottles lined the rough-hewn walls, and there were glowing anemones and the eyes of those . . . things. She gasped as something huge, bulbous, and black swam past her. What was that?
“Lose something, dear?” The same deep, rich voice she’d heard in Dawson’s bedroom emanated from the shadowy corner of the cavern. “So coy!” A black tentacle shot out of the gloom and rapped on the glass. Shelly cowered, fear gripping her.
“Wh-what do you want?” she gasped.
Suddenly, the black tentacle reappeared, unfurling to show off an empty coffee cup.
Shelly felt her cheeks turn hot. She knew tossing that cup in the water had been a huge mistake. She knew it had been wrong. But she had done it anyway. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to!”
“Use my ocean as your—oh, what do you landlubbers call it? Dump?”
Shelly’s heart thumped fast.
Then the voice softened. “But don’t be afraid, my child. I’m here to help poor unfortunate souls like yourself. Souls who have problems that need fixing. It’s what I do!” The voice broke into a dark, churlish chuckle. Where was it coming from? Was there a creature with tentacles that could . . . talk?
“What happened to me? Where am I?” Shelly said, her voice echoing in the crystal ball. Peering down, she could faintly make out some sort of clawed, spiny pedestal that held it.
“You are a poor unfortunate soul,” the voice replied. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? My dear, you can trust Auntie Ursula.” There was another flash of something swimming through the cavern.
Shelly shied away from the glass, sitting in the ball with her arms wrapped around her knees. Was she a poor unfortunate soul? All the things that had gone wrong in her life lately flashed through her head. Her parents splitting. Her father moving out. Her moving with Dawson and their mother into the townhouse and changing schools. The Semester of No Friends, as she’d come to think of it—those few months at the beginning of the year. And now that she had friends—Kendall, Attina, and Alana—all she could think of was losing them. And where was she? Dreaming? How had she gotten there? Her memory was fuzzy, but she recalled the nautilus in the dark.
“Ursula . . . can you let me out of here?” asked Shelly.
“In time,” replied Ursula. “But first, what do you want even more than that?”
That caught Shelly off guard. She thought about it and said, “To be happy?”
“Is that it? Come on, now. I’m a very busy woman. Go ahead and make your wish.”
“A wish? You can grant wishes?” asked Shelly. The words felt funny leaving her mouth. How was any of this strange dream possible, if it even was a dream?
“Of course I can, silly girl,” said Ursula. “Now, what’ll it be?”
“But who . . .” Shelly began, feeling a stab of fear. “But what are you?”
“Oh, a good question, my dear. Some call me the sea witch.”
“You’re a witch?” Shelly asked, straining to get a glimpse of her captor in the dark. Something shifted in the shadows. She caught sight of a flash of what looked like white hair and a ripple of more black tentacles. Shelly backed against the curved glass, but then the voice probed at her again.
“Some called me the protector of Triton Bay, but not in many moons.”
“Well, are you a witch . . . or a protector?” asked Shelly.
“Would you believe that I’m both?” A deep chuckle—booming like thunder—emanated from the watery shadows. “Now, hurry up and make your wish. I really haven’t got all day.”
Shelly couldn’t explain it, but she felt like the voice understood her.
“One wish?” Shelly said, then bit her lip. She closed her eyes. What did she want more than anything? To
