by Mark Tufo
She blushed a little, not sure whether the captain’s moral sextant would encompass shacking up. “We date occasionally.”
“He’s a bit pale for a Coastie.”
“He generally works the night shift.”
Cap’n Barney nodded and drank to that. “I guess more of the drugs run at night, and with the drinking, some weekend sailor is more likely to run aground or crack up on the shoals.”
“Maybe we should change our plans.” Though Cherry had seemed so eager to go. She could use an adventure, and it sounds like it wouldn’t hurt her new relationship to spice things up a little.
“No, I think tonight will be okay,” Barney said. “Moon’s waxing to full and the storm’s pushed on. A young lady like you could use a little romantic outing. And, if you’re with a Coastie, you’re in good hands.
Oh, Cap’n, you don’t know just how good his hands can be.
“What’s this gentleman’s name again?” he asked.
“Luke.”
“Bonfire on the beach, a crab boil, a little acoustic guitar with some Jimmy Buffet songs. Ah, I remember the days.”
“Luke is more into Mozart.”
The old man emitted a low argh of disapproval. “Can’t hardly set a piano out on the beach, can you?”
“The trip’s mostly for my friend. She works at the Bean Seen.”
“No wonder she wants to get off the mainland. Being around a bunch of goddanged coffee achievers is sure to wind anybody’s spinnakers a little too tight.”
“Well, I better go get ready. I’ll keep an eye out for those pirates.”
“Gog,” he said as she got up to leave.
“Excuse me?”
“Here there be Gog.” He winked.
CHAPTER FIVE
They met Cherry and Roy at the marina just after sunset. The sodium vapor lamps hanging on strings cast golden, wavy ribbons across the inlet. A brown pelican perched on a dock post as if posing for a photograph. Sabrina had packed fruit, water, and a couple of towels. She was wearing her bikini beneath a blue blouse and a knee-length cotton skirt, figuring they’d go for a swim at some point, and she’d slipped into some bright turquoise crocs for comfort.
Luke had wanted to play a little purple submarine with her before leaving the cottage, but she’d reluctantly postponed him to tell him about Cap’n Barney’s warning.
Now, as they boarded Luke’s 30-foot pleasure cruiser, she was regretting not taking the submarine voyage. But she suppressed her yearning long enough to be a polite hostess to Cherry and Roy.
“I told you this would be awesome,” Cherry said to Roy, who was wearing sunglasses and seemed a little sullen.
“I gotta boat,” Roy said. He was chewing on a toothpick and spoke out one side of his mouth. His hair was dark and curly, not moving much in the sea breeze, and he had one of those strong chins that looked like it could take a punch or two. He was good-looking if you liked that sort of thing.
Cherry, apparently, did.
“What kind of boat do you have?” Luke said, releasing the tether line.
“Big one.”
Only a small man worried about size so much, Sabrina thought.
Luke took the throttle and they eased away from the marina. Jewels of blue-green and orange light dotted the masts of the docked ships, and a few fishing boats and trawlers headed for the warehouses around the point, toward the rougher side of town that always smelled of shrimp heads.
Roy dug a beer from the cooler and motioned it toward Luke. When Luke shook his head in refusal, Roy smirked and popped the tab. After a moment, Sabrina realized he wasn’t going to offer one to her or Cherry. It was, apparently, a man thing.
Sabrina watched Cherry watching Roy. Cherry had a shawl over her shoulders, hair blowing in the wind. Her bikini was snug around her firm figure, which jiggled in the right places as the boat bounced over the waves. As cute as she was, she could do way better than Roy.
But maybe it didn’t matter what you could have. You cared more about what you couldn’t have.
After all, Sabrina was the one sexing up a vampire. Assuming they were both immortal, they could give “happily ever after” a whole new meaning. But did the relationship have any future? She was in as much denial as any geeky high-school freshman crushing on the star quarterback.
Cap’n Barney had been right about the moon. It laid a fat, rippling stream of silver over the sound. Sabrina didn’t feel like shouting over the engine, so she relaxed and watched the flux of the tide. Roy downed his second beer, Cherry grinned foolishly at him, and Luke maintained his typical serious surveillance while piloting. Soon land appeared, a thin, dark line that grew larger as they approached.
Luke eased the boat toward a small, weed-choked cove, cutting the engine as he coasted the bow into the mud.
“Get that anchor, Roy?” Luke said, as a question instead of a command.
“Aye-aye, sir,” Roy answered with an irritated sneer. Roy handed Cherry his beer and played out the coil of rope with the anchor attached.
“You can tie it off to the cleat.” Luke deliberately left out the “please.”
Roy wound the slack around the metal cleat as if it were Luke’s neck.
“Is this the right island?” Sabrina asked, more to break the tension than in doubt of Luke’s navigational skills.
“Portsmouth, like you wanted.”
Luke slipped over the side and into the waist-deep water. “Hand me the food and stuff and I’ll ferry it to shore.”
The beach was sandy and wide, alabaster in the moonlight. Far up the beach, a campfire twinkled.
“I thought Portsmouth Island was abandoned,” Cherry said.
“Nobody lives here,” Luke answered, churning through the tide with the cooler. “It’s part of the Cape Lookout National Seashore. But people stay overnight, and sometimes a park ranger stays on duty in the old village. Lots of kayakers use it, and you can camp overnight.”
“I wish we’d brought tents,” Cherry said, to which Roy replied, “Too many skeeters out here. The little bloodsuckers would carry you off in your sleep.”
Sabrina had to chuckle. Maybe you should be more worried about the BIG bloodsuckers.
“How’s the water?” Sabrina asked as Luke deposited the cooler in the sand and churned back toward the boat.
“Warm enough for a swim,” he said, reaching his hand to the rail to help Cherry overboard.
Roy lurched forward, causing the boat to rock and nearly tipping Sabrina over the side. He grabbed Cherry before she could make contact with Luke’s hand. Roy’s glare was made even more threatening by the steep shadows on his face. “I can handle my own woman,” he said.
Luke stepped back and held up his palms. “Suit yourself.”
Sabrina glanced up at the sky and the bruised ribs of clouds. Okay, God, is Roy the one you sent me out here to find? I mean, there’s a reason for everything, right?
God didn’t answer. Perhaps it was nap time, or maybe another of those tests. God was big on tests. For all the talk about honesty and faith, God never took anyone’s word for it. Believing wasn’t enough. You had to prove it.
Perhaps that was why churches were filled with so many hung-over hypocrites on Sunday mornings.
Roy removed his windbreaker, shrugging his shoulders so that his abs rippled. The guy was a jerk, but he could probably crush a beer can between his pecs. He didn’t have a weightlifter’s bulk, but he’d put in some time at the gym. Cherry involuntarily licked her lips.
Roy stepped up on the starboard rail and balanced a moment, enjoying the attention. Sabrina thought for a moment he was going to flex, preen, and then high dive headfirst into the muddy bottom. She imagined his legs kicking in the air as he fought for freedom. Assuming he didn’t hit a rock. In which case, the rock would probably lose.
Instead, Roy leapt toward shore, spanning about 10 yards and splashing down in ankle-deep water.
Jeez, that’s got to be some sort of world record. He must be th
e world’s most athletic real-estate salesman.
Cherry jumped up and applauded. “Cool!”
“State long-jump champ three years in a row,” Roy responded, wading onto the beach toward the cooler.
“You forgot your woman,” Luke called after him. Roy waved away the comment without bothering to turn around.
Sabrina climbed over the side and into Luke’s arms. She could have walked on water, or sprouted wings and taken off, but she figured prudence was the better part of valor, or something like that. Not only would it have been showing off, she couldn’t be sure whether Roy knew that she was an angel. The Gog were just smart enough to act dumb. And if that was indeed the case, Roy was the perfect specimen of their kind.
Besides, letting Luke carry her was a lot more fun. He almost slipped once and she came close to tumbling into the surf, but she couldn’t be sure whether he was fooling or not. His face stayed grim and firm in the moonlight. After Luke set her on the sand, she joined Roy around the cooler to wait. He already had a half-finished beer in his hand.
“Have you ever been to the Outer Banks?” she asked, once Luke was out of earshot. Although, with his keen hearing, she could never be fully certain how far that was.
“I told you, I have a boat.” Roy’s eyes were dark and cold in the night.
“Lots of people never leave the sound. They just chug around out there in the deep part. And, if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look like an oyster shucker.”
He took that as a compliment, the way he took everything—all hail Glory Boy Roy. “I work the barrier islands,” he said. “From Kitty Hawk to Fort Macon.”
“Cherry said you sold real estate.”
“And Cherry’s dumb enough to fall for it.” He spoke with a vulpine tone of conspiracy.
“Wait a sec. She’s my friend. You know I’ll have to tell her you’re a big fat liar, right?”
Roy grinned and his teeth were gleaming perfection. “She seems lonely. You don’t want to spoil her best shot at Mr. Right, do you?”
Sabrina glanced back at the boat, where Cherry was handing Luke the last of the beach gear. “Okay, Roy, let’s keep it between you and me. What’s so important that you have to lie to that sweet little woman in the boat?”
“I’m watching out for bad guys.” He drained his beer, crumpled the can, and threw it onto the sand.
“What, like, drug runners? Are you with the Coast Guard, too?”
He lowered his voice, even though the surf was louder now. “Undercover.”
“Federal?”
He shrugged, causing his muscles to ripple. “Let’s just say I’m with a watchdog agency.”
Sabrina cast an inadvertent glance toward heaven. God, I know you’re a practical joker, but you wouldn’t have sent another angel on the case without telling me, right? I told you I could handle this.
“Luke says the Coast Guard is cracking down,” she said. “You ought to talk to him about that.”
“Yeah, except it’s the Coast Guard I’m watching.” Roy bent into the cooler for another beer.
Luke carried the bundle of gear toward them, holding it high so it wouldn’t get wet. Cherry called from the boat. “Don’t start the party without me!”
“You are the party,” Roy shouted back, lifting his beer can high and whooping.
Luke crossed the beach and tossed down the bundle, rolling his eyes. Sabrina wondered how much he knew about Roy. Sure, she was the one to arrange the double date, but now it seemed mighty coincidental that Roy was watching Luke and she was watching Roy. And nobody was watching Cherry.
“Guess I better go put my hands on your woman,” Luke said to Roy. “Unless you’ve gotten over your fear of sharks.”
“Go ahead,” Roy said. “I’m in the mood for a swap, anyway. Me and Sabrina are hitting it off pretty good.”
Luke closed the twenty feet between them so fast that even a half-blind sailor would have known he was a vampire.
But Roy didn’t even flinch. When Luke was in his face, nearly snarling, Roy smiled. “Kidding, bro’.” He turned to Sabrina. “Your man’s wound tighter than a winch strap.”
“He doesn’t belong to me,” she said, observing the couple’s agreement that they were not really a couple. Not in the “forever” sense.
At least, not yet. Give her time.
“Cherry’s looking a little left out, Roy,” Luke said. “I think you’d better help her to shore, Roy.”
The repetition of Roy’s name was a sign that Luke was heating up a little. His fangs grew a perceptible amount, but Sabrina doubted Roy noticed. Which maybe meant he wasn’t as much of a watchdog as he proclaimed.
Roy tossed his newest empty on the beach, flexed and hunched as if lifting weights, and unleashed a huge belch. “Okay, Cherry baby, hang on, the killer whale of love is closing in for the kill.”
Roy ran full speed into the water, kicking up sand and spray, and then he paddled his way to the boat, where a rapt Cherry stood waiting. She giggled as she let herself fall into his arms.
“He’s as cuddly as the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” Luke said.
“What do you know about him?”
“That he lied about having a boat. Any landlubber knows a rolling half hitch.”
“He told me he works the Outer Banks.”
“Well, he does it with a helicopter, then, because Roy Boy doesn’t know a jib from a jab. Does Cherry know he’s full of crap?”
Sabrina watched Cherry kick her heels in glee as Roy tickled her. “I don’t think she cares at this point.”
“Well, I suppose we all have something to hide,” Luke said, opening the bundle and spreading out the food, towels, and flashlights. His cell phone was among the clutter.
“I thought we were isolating,” Sabrina said.
“I’m always on call,” he said. “You know that.”
“Except during the day.”
His pupils flashed red. “Sunshine is for losers.”
“For somebody afraid of commitment, you sure are dedicated to your duty,” Sabrina said, trying not to sound jealous.
“I’m not afraid of commitment.”
“I never expected ‘’til death do we part,’ but I wouldn’t mind ‘Wanna go steady?’”
Before they could get into a serious conversation, Roy and Cherry joined them. Roy celebrated the trip by digging into the beer cooler. “We’re going to take a walk,” Roy said. “Want to join us?”
Cherry squinted at Sabrina and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
Right. Some alone time. I’m thinking the same thing, hon.
But it was Luke who spoke for the two of them. “We’re walking down to the village. The Coasties asked me to check it out since they cut the park ranger’s hours.”
Roy stood straight, or as straight as he could, considering his intoxication, and snapped off a salute. “Duty calls, eh?”
“Keep your eyes peeled for suspicious activity,” Luke said, looking at Cherry.
Roy winked at Sabrina but she pretended not to notice.
CHAPTER SIX
Luke switched off the flashlight as soon as they were out of sight of Roy and Cherry. Being more or less immortal and possessing supernatural powers, they could see in the dark. And Luke was the practical sort.
“You never know when you might need some juice,” he said.
She took his hand. “I got some juice for you.”
“I meant the batteries.”
She shrugged. “I’ve still got some juice for you.”
“Didn’t bring any toys, did you?”
“That would be embarrassing. What if we got stopped by Customs and searched? Old Battery Operated Boyfriend would have drawn a smirk from Roy.”
She was secretly pleased that, although Luke was quite virile and more than satisfactory in the sack—and even the coffin—he wasn’t threatened by her occasional indulgence in a vibrator. The buzz reminded her of floating on a cloud in a turbulent sky. And vibrators
made no moral judgments.
“I don’t see what Cherry sees in him,” Luke said. “Seems like a flaming asshole.”
“Humans are only 5,000 years off the tundra. Biological imperative dies hard.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing him die hard.”
“Huh huh,” Sabrina said, in her best bad Arnie Schwarzenegger voice, which was as bad as her Bruce Willis. “Terminator make a funny.”
The village was a scattering of old houses from the 1940s and ’50’s, walled with weathered gray planks. They cast a peculiar gleam in the moonlight, as if they might shimmer and fade into the past at any moment. A one-room schoolhouse sat empty beside a swampy inlet, and the highest point was the belfry of the old Methodist church. Most of the houses leaned a little leeward, weary from withstanding the many decades of high winds.
It felt like an abandoned movie set to Sabrina, and she supposed maybe it was. People had once acted out their lives here. She wondered what God thought of these people who had given up the island after a few centuries of settlement.
“None of your business,” God said.
Luke glanced at the sky. “Weird. Doesn’t look like storm clouds but I could have sworn I heard thunder.”
They walked down the sandy rut that passed for Main Street and came to a squat but solid shack that had a National Park Service sign above the door. Luke turned over a chunk of bleached coral near the steps and came away with a key.
“So much for Homeland Security,” Sabrina said.
Luke unlocked the door and switched on the flashlight, sweeping it around the interior of the office. “Ah,” he said, crossing to a footlocker. He pulled out a blanket and tossed it to Sabrina.
He checked the locks on a couple of strongboxes, made sure the emergency generator had fuel, and led Sabrina from the office, locking the door and returning the key to its hiding place.
“So, the Graveyard of the Atlantic,” he said, flashing his smile and extending his arm. “Care to take a walk.”
“Can’t ever get enough of graveyards,” she said as they navigated the scrubs and sea oats toward the thrush of churning surf.