Free Seawitch by Kat Richardson

such things frequently.”
    “Constantly, in fact.”
    He turned his head suddenly and frowned at me.
    “It’s always here. Most of it’s like air,” I explained, waving my off hand through the salt-scented breeze. “Most people can’t see it until it’s so thick they choke on it. But I see it all the time. And I can look harder at it to see more if I want, but then I tend to get a little . . . ghostly myself.”
    He almost covered it up, but I still saw the rapid flicker at the corners of his eyes as he repressed the impulse to widen his stare in surprise. “You saw that at the boat and again at Reeve’s,” I said. “You almost said something, but then you caught yourself. Didn’t you?”
    He hesitated—I’d never known Solis to do that. Then he tightened his mouth into a stubborn line, looking angry, and took in a long breath through his nose.
    “Oh, damn it. Just look. Look at me. Look as hard as you can. This isn’t some kind of illusion,” I shouted, and I dropped into the Grey, letting it slam up over me like a steel trap snapping closed.
    I hadn’t fallen that fast and hard into the Grey in years and I wasn’t entirely prepared for the sensation of dropping through cold water and mist, falling into the grip of something uncanny and ungentle. I lurched and stumbled onto uneven ground that seemed to shift and roll beneath me, and the sea of mist swirled into hints of faces and forms that snatched and snarled before they resolved into nothing more than raw ghost-stuff. I elbowed something icy aside, mentally counted to ten, and shoved my way back out to the normal world.
    This time Solis actually did take a step away from me and his eyes were larger than they should have been. His right hand twitched upward and he stopped it and his movement away from me. Then he put his hand out and touched the edge of my coat.
    “I told you it’s not a trick. I’m really here.”
    “And a moment ago, you really weren’t.”
    “Not quite. I was here but not in a state you could observe. At least that’s the best explanation I can make.”
    He frowned, muttering as if to himself, “I didn’t see you, but then you were where you could not have been.” He pinned me with his gaze, as if having made up his mind: He wasn’t going to let me out of his sight now. “It startled me every time. I thought I must have missed your movement, but I’m not that easily fooled. This makes me no happier, but for now . . .” He shrugged, dismissing the rest of his thought. “But tell me what you think you saw at Reeve’s.”
    I sighed and shook my head, letting the sound of the lapping breakers fill the pause while I pretended not to hear the insult of his doubt. “Something was watching us from the bushes and it wasn’t a cat. It was some kind of paranormal creature about the size of a large dog.”
    Solis snorted. “A dobhar-chú?”
    “Oh, now you’re scoffing . . . ? After I do the Harper Blaine, Disappearing Girl act?” I shook my head in exasperation, but I did notice his expression wasn’t as doubtful as it had been. I put off my annoyance for the sake of getting on. “Really, I have no idea. It wasn’t something I’ve ever seen before. It wasn’t a ghost. It was something smart enough and mean enough to frighten Reeve into a heart attack, though. It wasn’t me he was staring at but whatever was in the bushes. And then there was some kind of . . . magical smoke from the fountain and that’s when the shit hit the fan.”
    “Huh,” Solis grunted, and turned his gaze away again. “If he were afraid of something watching him—be it a monster or not—that implies someone who feels threatened by what he said.”
    “Or what he would have said if they hadn’t stopped him,” I suggested.
    Solis nodded. “Possibly. But he had already departed from a logical discussion. . . .”
    I scoffed this time. “According to you, everything you’ve heard and seen since Reeve sat down is a departure