No, he wouldn’t. He’d escaped, and he’d never go back to live in the solitude of the sea.
He wished he’d known about the curse. Of course, when he was alive, if someone told him that curses were reality and not myth, he would have laughed them all the way to the asylum.
So, in 1857, having taken the plunge from a cliff into the ocean to end his own life, he was shocked that water claimed his soul, transformed him into a ruthless monster, a killing machine. He would give anything to change his fate.
The shack, deep in the woods, was already standing way back when he was alive and working at the Seaside Inn under Mykaela’s many-times-great grandfather. How ironic, to step right back into his old life.
He walked inside, shutting the door behind him. Even without light, he could see well enough to avoid the small table salvaged from the trash outside a beachfront home and one folding chair. One of the benefits of living on the bottom of the ocean, he mused.
He lit the oil lamp, now an antique, and gazed at the walls of the shed, where he’d taped pictures of the murder victims. Nineteen-year-old Megan, seventeen-year-old Charity and Candy. He’d torn them from telephone poles, posters pleading for information to help catch their killer.
Beneath each picture, he’d taped a copy of that person’s police report, along with their obituaries, news reports and anything else about the murders he could find. A map was posted by the pictures, with a thumbtack where each body was found.
His brain was already scanning the details, everything from what time of day bodies were discovered to what the girls were wearing, trying to draw connections between the victims. Searching for that one detail that would reveal the killer.
The only thing any of the girls shared in common was the mark left behind. The outline of a bottle-nosed dolphin, not carved, but burned into their right wrist. If a Soul of the Sea fed on enough human souls, he or she would have the power to magically brand the victim’s skin that way.
Dylan didn’t have that kind of power—he hadn’t drained a soul in over a decade—but not every sea-dwelling monster shared his affinity for mankind.
The first girl to drown, Megan, turned up the very day he arrived in Harmony Harbor. Her battered body just washed to the shore next to where he stood.
When he saw the symbol engraved on Megan’s limp wrist, he knew it was a message, but he ignored it. He hoped there would be no more murders, as he watched the town from the edge of the woods and tried to find a way to incorporate himself into their world.
After seeing Mykaela and Charity pulled into the water, he’d had no choice but to try to save them, though it meant exposing himself, and his location, to his enemies. When Candy’s body washed up on the beach, he still denied the sea’s demand. He didn’t return to the ocean, as he knew the killer wanted. Instead, he’d hidden in his shack, trying to find a way to stop the murders.
Because if he could find the creature doing this, then he could stop him without having to go back to sea. All he wanted was to be human again, to feel again. To be alive.
Mykaela made him feel that way. He felt as if she was his breath, his heartbeat, filling all the voids the curse left. Her eyes twinkled like emerald jewels, and her brown curls always smelled like chamomile and lavender. When her full, naturally rosy lips smiled at him, everything else faded into the background. It wasn’t just her beauty that drew him to her, though. It wasn’t her beauty at all.
It was her soul, the purity of it. He could smell it, the way a human smelled dinner cooking. It was stronger than the average human’s, and more powerful than she could ever imagine. Every time she was near, her soul called to his hunger and his body begged him to consume it, absorb it the way any other Soul of the Sea would do, without regret.
He never would. He knew he should leave—return to the ocean or go to another town. She would be safer if he did. Although he prided himself on his self-control, he didn’t have the discipline to stay away from her.
Chapter Five
The Lake
“So, are you going to be okay while I’m gone?” Jared asked Mykaela as they ate lunch at the Diner.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She took a bite of her grilled ham and cheese sandwich, swallowing before she asked, “When are you leaving?”
“At nightfall,” he said. “And you promise you’ll stay away from the water?”
“Why?” She slurped her sweet tea through the straw. She was definitely not going near the water for a very long time, but why did Jared not want her to?
“Because you don’t know how to swim.”
“Because you and Mom never let me within ten feet of the water.”
“For your own good. Just trust me.”
The bell above the door rang and a girl strolled in, wearing a red mini-skirt, matching tank top and stilettos. She tossed her raven hair over her shoulder as she slid onto a stool at the counter.
Jared let out a low whistle. “Of all the days to go on a hunting trip.”
“Fate’s twisted like that.” Glancing out the window next to her, a sign for the Pub caught her eye.
“What’s that?”
“What is with the names these people come up with? For the businesses, I mean. They’re so unoriginal. I mean, the Pub, the Diner. At least Mike’s Everything isn’t called the Store.”
“Ha-ha. I never really thought about it.” He glanced over his shoulder and then slipped out of the booth. “Be right back,” he said, eying the goddess at the bar. “Maybe.”
As he left, Gabby, who worked at the Diner as a server, came up to the table with more tea. She refilled Mykaela’s glass, and then sat down across from her. “How are you doing, sugar?” she asked. “With everything that’s going on?”
“I’m fine,” she said, even though she knew Gabby wasn’t asking out of concern. She’d known Gabby for years, so she knew she was only asking so she could have something to blab to the grapevine about. “Hanging in there.”
“It must be like déjà vu for you.” Her face stirred with faux sympathy. “Three women now. Just like when your father—”
“Mykaela,” Dylan’s voice broke through their conversation. “Fancy running into you here.”
“Hi, Dylan.” Mykaela chuckled at the old-fashioned greeting and glanced across the table. Gabby’s cheeks flushed bright red while she stared at him.
“Hi.” The waitress leaned forward, extending her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Gabriella.”
“We call her Gabby,” Mykaela said, a little afraid Dylan would notice the cleavage Gabby was trying to show off. “Because she can gossip like there’s no tomorrow.”
Gabby glared at Mykaela, and the dirty look turned to a scowl when Dylan looked at her just long enough to lift his hand in a wave. “I’m Dylan.” Turning back to Mykaela, he held up a paper bag. He smiled at her, his eyes shining an intense shade of light blue. “I was going to eat on the bluff. It’d be more fun if you joined me.”
She smiled at him. “I’d love to join you.” She turned back to Gabby. “Can you get me a box for this? And a to-go cup for my tea?”
Gabby was too busy staring at Dylan to hear her at first. Snapping back into focus, she gave a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. Sure.”
Mykaela slid out of the booth and followed Gabby up to the counter, Dylan close behind, and soon they were walking down the sidewalk toward the woods.
“So, are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” He glanced around before they crossed the street.
“The truth. How you got hurt. I don’t buy your shipwreck story.”
He nodded once, a slow movement in step with his legs. “You don’t.”
She shook her head. “Some piece of your boat would have washed up with you. Especially by now.”
“The truth isn’t as interesting as you would think.”
“I highly doubt that,” she said. “Like I said, it’s not every day a mysterious stranger washes up on the beach—alive.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I’m not asking you to spill all of your personal baggage.” She slid her hands into her back pockets, glancing up at him. “I’d just like to know something real about you.”
As they entered the thatch of trees, he continued to kick his feet across the dead leaves, staring ahead, his eyes glazing over. “My family—they’re not like yours. They’re mean. Selfish. They’re cut off from emotions.”
He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the ground. “They want me to be like them. And for a long time, I was.” He glanced at her, those analytical eyes gauging her reaction. “But I’m not, anymore. No matter how hard they push me, I can’t strive to be something I don’t want to be.”
She nodded, hoping he’d continue.
“I ran away, and I’ve been running ever since.” His eyes darkened. “But, I can’t run forever.”
She knew she couldn’t say anything to make his situation better. “I’m sorry you were forced to go through that, to get what you wanted from life.”
He gave her a weak smile. “It’s a small price to pay.”
“Still.” She stepped over a branch. “It’s kind of sad.”
“Tell me,” he said, lifting up a low-sweeping tree limb so she could walk underneath. “What do you do when you’re not chasing kittens in the woods?”
She laughed. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Work. Read.”
“What do you read?”
She blushed. “I’m not telling you,” she said, nudging his ribcage with her elbow. “You’ll make fun of me.”
“Will not.” He offered up his pinky. “Pinky swear.”
She felt her cheeks flush again as she looked at his extended pinky finger, slightly bent and waiting for hers. She curled her pinky around his, and didn’t even care that his hands were cold. “I’m a huge fan of Edgar Allan Poe.”
He tilted his head. “You like poetry?”
“Not really,” she said, frowning. “But I like his work, especially the short stories. It’s literary genius.”
“What’s your favorite piece?”
“The Lake,” she said, and it made her recall the beautiful, heartbreaking stanzas. Scarcely aware of her words, she recited:
“Death was in that poisonous wave,
And in its gulf a fitting grave
For him who thence could solace bring
To his lone imagining—
Whose solitary soul could make
An Eden of that dim lake.”
“Impressive.” Dylan’s soft voice sucked her back to reality, and she wanted to bury her face in her hands in humiliation.
“Dorky.”
“No.” He smiled down at her. “It’s a beautiful piece. I remember when it…” He glanced away from her. “When I read it for the first time. I was captivated.”
“Captivated, huh?” She slowed to a stop as they came upon the bluff.
“Yes, captivated.” A grin flashed across his face. “Kind of like the first time I saw you.”
She stumbled at the sudden boldness—from what she’d seen, it just wasn’t like him, but she loved it. She was sure her face was red-hot by now.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady her. “That was inappropriate.”
“No,” she said, blushing. “No, it’s okay.”
She was hoping he would kiss her, or somehow show he was interested in her as more than a friend, but he didn’t.
As they walked toward home that evening, she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, and became frustrated with herself for feeling that way.
“Mykaela! Over here!”
She turned to find out who called, but only saw a bunch of people scattered around a bonfire. She scanned them and found Susan perched on Tyler’s lap. Susan waved her arm in the air. “Mykaela!”
She headed over to them, motioning for Dylan to follow. He strolled behind, hands in his pockets.
“Join us.” Susan pointed to the spot next to her.
Mykaela sat down. “This is Dylan.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Susan said, as he sat down next to Mykaela. “New people spur tons of gossip. This is my boyfriend, Tyler.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.”
Susan gasped. “Wow! I love your accent. Where are you from?”
“Ireland,” he said.
“What’s it like there?” She leaned forward in interest. “Is it pretty and green like everyone says? Have you seen the Loch Ness monster?”
“It’s been years. I don’t remember much,” he said. “But Loch Ness is a Scottish lake, not Irish. Anyway, I’m pretty sure the monster is a hoax.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Rachel said. “There are all kinds of creatures we don’t know about, lurking underneath the water’s surface.”
“Yeah,” Gabby giggled. “Like mermaids.”
“Mermaids?” Tyler scoffed. “Please.”
“No, they exist. Any old fisherman will tell you that,” Rachel insisted.
Dylan rubbed his hands over the knees of his jeans.
“If by ‘old fisherman’ you mean your grandfather, he doesn’t count, because the guy’s a drunk lunatic.”
Susan shoved her elbow into Tyler’s ribcage and shot him a glare. “What’s your grandfather say about them?”
“He says when people drown in the sea, the water claims their souls.” Light from the bonfire flickered across Rachel’s dark, mousy features, making her story seem scarier. “It turns them into monsters, hungry for blood and violence. They’re jealous of humans, missing the life they left behind, so they’ll attack us if they see us.”
“Scary.” Tyler’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“Shut up,” Susan said. “You think we’re so smart we know every creature on the planet?”
“No, but I don’t think people turn into mermaids when they drown.”
“What is she doing here?”
Everyone turned to see Brad and Jared standing at the edge of the circle. Jared kicked his friend’s leg, but Brad glared at Mykaela.
Dylan went rigid next to her. “Last time I checked, this was a public beach.”
“Nobody wants you here,” Brad said to Mykaela.
“Brad,” Susan scolded. “Don’t be an ass.”
“I told you to stay away from her.” Brad was talking to Susan, but his eyes never left Mykaela.
Susan narrowed her eyes. “Brad, cool it. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“She left Charity there to die!”
Mykaela stood up before he’d even finished his accusation. She walked away from the hushed whispers and harsh reprimands from Jared and tried to hold her head high, but how could she ignore such animosity?
Susan caught up with her. “Mykaela, wait,” she said, tugging on her arm to stop her. “I’m sorry—my brother’s an idiot.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” she said. “What happened to Charity wasn’t your fault. He’ll see that soon.”
Mykaela smiled and nodded, so Susan would shut up. She didn’t want to rehash the subject, because she didn’t think Brad would ever change his opinion of her.
Susan glanced back at the bonfire where Dylan still sat. “So…it was kind of hot, Dylan defending you.”
Blushing, she shook her head. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes. I’d go for it, if I were you; he’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen–and that accent? Ooh, baby.”
She laughed. “If he’s so perfect, why don’t you go for it?”
Susan eyed Dylan up and down. “Ugh, don’t tempt me.” She turned back to face Mykaela. “Seriously, though, you should flirt with him a little. Let him know you’re interested.”
“I don’t know,” she said, picking at her fingernails. “It’s just weird timing.”
“It could be perfect.” Susan reached out and rested her hand on Mykaela’s shoulder. “You know? Get your mind off things. Give you someone to talk to.”
Mykaela nodded.
“I want to see you smile again, Mykaela.” Susan pulled her into a hug. “It’s what Charity would want.”
***
Jared was surprised to see that the girl from the restaurant—the girl with the never-ending legs and the waves of long, ebony hair—at the beach party that night.
His attempt to hit on her earlier was pathetic. He’d been trying to choose between “I hope you know CPR, because you took my breath away” and “if I followed you home, would you keep me?”
As he rested his elbows on the countertop next to her, and leaned close to her ear, he whispered “I hope you know CPR; would you keep me?”
He’d realized the mix-up the second the words came out and felt his face grow hot with humiliation. She turned to him, an eyebrow raised in an adorable expression.
“See?” Jared smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “You just scramble my brain.”
Her lips—painted a smoldering shade of red—twisted in a smile.
Jared’s legs turned to rubber. “How about you join me for a drink tonight? To make up for my utter lack of cool?”
She leaned close, her lips tantalizing his ear. “No, thanks, but the preschool’s that way. Maybe you can find someone your own age.”
He’d left not long after that, and then Brad dragged him to the beach to look for more evidence they both knew they wouldn’t find—to stop a killer they couldn’t beat.
Soul of the Sea Page 6