Read Online Madly by Amy Alward - Free Book Online

This is my chance to . . .” I run out of words.
    Dad reaches out to me. “It’s your choice, Sam. But we can’t pay to help you get any of these things. Kirsty’s fees, your transport out into the Wilds, anything you might need along the way . . . Any of it.”
    â€œKirsty will help me out. Help us out.”
    Thankfully, they seem to come to a mutual agreement. “You’ll have to break it to Granddad tomorrow morning.”
    â€œI might not have time for that.” I hand over the scroll.
    Dad reads the name of the ingredient and draws in a sharp breath. “My goodness.”
    â€œWhat is it?” asks Mum.
    â€œFull moon oyster merpearl. Crushed. Thirty grams,” I recite, already having it memorized.
    â€œDo we have it in the stockroom?” Dad asks.
    I shake my head. “I just checked before coming upstairs.” The jars had skipped straight from an empty jar of Merlin’s beard to merrimack plant. No merpearl in stock—I’m not that lucky.
    â€œBut the next Rising is tonight!” Mum says. “I saw it on the news.”
    â€œI know.” I knew it as soon as I read the ingredient.
    â€œYou don’t have any time to lose, then,” says Dad. He hands back the scroll. “Kirsty—you keep her safe.”
    â€œI will, John.” She chucks me my backpack from the floor. “Meet me outside in five.”
    I nod, grinning and darting around my bedroom, throwing anything I can find into the bag, barely stopping to think about where I might be going. What do you pack to go fishing for merpearls? I change into my most Finder-like gear: cargo trousers, a black T-shirt, and warm hoodie. I throw in my waterproof jacket and a torch. Then I pack my most important item: my potions diary. It’s a thick string-bound notebook with a sturdy brown leather cover. It’s by far my most prized possession. In here are all my recipes, all my notes about ingredients, all my dreams of new and different mixes. It’s my brain in paper form.
    In our library we have potion diaries belonging to almost every Kemi going back nearly five hundred years. There are a few key ones missing: my great-grandmother Cleo’s, for example, and the journal of Thomas Kemi, the founder of the store. But the remaining journals form the great archive of Kemi knowledge, and it is by far our biggest asset.
    I slot mine in the front pocket of my backpack.
    I kiss Mum and Dad good-bye and race downstairs and out the side door. I swing my backpack up onto the floor of Kirsty’s 4×4 and climb into the front.
    â€œReady?” she says.
    I bite my lip and nod. We have two hours to do a two-and-a-half-hour drive, plus find a boat willing to take us out to the Rising at the last minute. I sense that our chances aren’t good, but what else can we do?
    Before another thought can enter my brain, Kirsty slams down her foot on the accelerator, her fingers reaching out and flicking a switch on the dashboard that sends a surge of heavy metal music into the night air. If anyone opened a window to complain, we wouldn’t know it—already we’re around the corner and bombing down the twisted side streets, aiming straight for the highway heading south: to the Wilds of Nova.
    I chew at the edges of my fingers, the buzz of Kirsty’s subwoofer not helping my nerves.
    Some parts of the Wilds are more accessible than others, like where we’re going—Syrene Beach. It’s the closest Rising to Kingstown and the only one in Nova. No one will have time to get anywhere else. You have to have a pass to get in, but it’s one of the easiest to acquire. Syrene Beach is always featured in any guidebook or tourism advert for Nova: “Come witness the only Rising visible from the shore!” “See the beauty of Aphroditas and her mermaid clan!” “Go wild in the Wilds: the hottest party beach in Nova!”
    No one is quite