The Boy from the Sea

by H L Macfarlane

  The third time he forced me down I reached for Lir’s pockets once more and finally found a rock.

  “You might,” I gasped, after I smashed the stone against Lir’s head and used his stunned surprise to escape his grasp. My throat was agony as I heaved in a breath; oxygen had never felt so good. “You might,” I repeated, hitting him again when he opened his eyes and tried to reach for me once more, “but I don’t. I don’t want this.”

  Blood began to trickle down Lir’s temple. He didn’t even seem to notice; all his attention was on me as his gaze grew hazy. “Don’t you want me, Grace?” he begged, voice already so faraway. “We’re meant to be. I love you. You love me. We’re soul–”

  I hit Lir again and his words were lost to the sea. I watched as his eyes fluttered closed and, between one stinging blink and the next, the current pulled his slack body away from me.

  “I know,” I told the waves, too weak and frightened and hysterical to move as his body was pulled beneath the surface and out of sight. “I’d rather not possess a soul than have one connected to you.”

  It took much too long to reach the shore – so long I thought I might end up losing all my strength and drift off after Lir despite fighting so hard to survive. At this point maybe that was for the best. But then, just as I considered closing my eyes for good, my feet touched sand and then my hands did, too, and I crawled and slid my way through the shallows until I was just barely far enough out of the sea that it couldn’t sweep me back in.

  When police sirens began to fill the air I could think of nothing but breathing and Lir. One breath, two breaths, three. I wondered how he felt the day he discovered his parents had left him forever. Four breaths, five. He’d been too small – too young – to be abandoned by the people who were supposed to have loved him more than anything.

  Now I had done the same.

  Six breaths.

  When a faceless man approached me to take my pulse, wrap a blanket around my shoulders and ask me if I was okay I began to weep and weep and weep.

  I didn’t think I’d ever stop.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Louisa rushed over on the first flight back to Scotland after hearing the news of her brother’s death…and what happened to me. She went home first, of course, and I was sent straight to Largs so my parents could look after me onces I was released from the hospital and the police station for questioning, so by the time I came face-to-face with my best friend almost two weeks had passed and it was the day of Josh’s funeral.

  I hadn’t processed anything in those fourteen days. I was numb. It felt like part of me had died in the sea the moment I rejected Lir and left him to die, alone.

  But now I was the one who was alone.

  Neither of us said a word when we met outside the church, but we ran to close the distance between us and held on to each other so tightly I thought we might be drowning. I suppose we were. When her parents joined us to hug me just as tightly I couldn’t stand it. The looks of pain and pity on their faces when their eyes caught mine…it threatened to break me.

  I was a victim. I was supposed to be Lir’s next victim. That was all they saw.

  But that wasn’t true. Not one bit.

  At the end of the funeral, as I held Louisa’s hand and walked with her between the pews, I noticed someone familiar standing awkwardly at the back of the church waiting for me. David. He smiled softly – so sadly – and with a squeeze of her hand I pulled away from Louisa to usher David outside to talk.

  He shifted from one foot to the other as we stood in uncomfortable silence upon the gravelled driveway, by the church door, but quickly became surrounded by people giving their condolences to Louisa and her parents. ‘Josh was such a wonderful son,’ they said, and, ‘A doctor – a kids’ doctor! What a horrible loss,’ and, to Louisa, ‘What a saint he was, going to save your best friend. I heard he loved her. How tragic!’

  Their words filled my head, spinning round and round until I was dizzy and sick. I couldn’t breathe. My vision was going red and black and red again. Without a moment’s hesitation David directed us away from the lot of them around the back of the church, until the two of us were hidden by perfectly maintained rose bushes and small trees.

  “Th-thank you,” I gasped, bent double with my hands on my knees until my vision returned. “I don’t – I can’t –”

  “You don’t need to say anything,” David replied. “Hearing them say all that is bound to make you feel awful. It’s okay to feel awful. You know that, right?”

  I did, but what David had no idea about was the fact that I was mourning for Lir just as much as I was for Josh and his family. Possibly more so. That made me an awful person.

  But I couldn’t tell him that. I probably couldn’t tell anyone that, ever. It was a secret I had to hold close to my broken heart until I died.

  When it became clear I wasn’t going to respond David coughed and ran a hand through his hair, unsure as the day he’d first asked me to lunch. “Anyway,” he mumbled, “I just came along to support you. It can’t be easy being with your friend’s family after what happened.”

  “It’s almost impossible,” I found myself saying instead of lying. I held a hand over my mouth, shocked at my honesty and disgusted at how much of a coward I was. Josh’s parents had lost their son. Louisa had lost her brother. And it was all because of me. Yet all I was thinking about was how difficult it was for me to be around them instead of the pain they themselves were going through.

  When David reached a tentative hand to touch my shoulder I let him, and when he wrapped his arms around me I let him do that, too. It was easier than looking at his face, especially when I began to sob.

  “I’m s-sorry he attacked you,” I cried into his chest, because I was. I was sorry about everything. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me about him. I’m sorry he –”

  “Shh, Grace, it isn’t your fault. You didn’t know. How could you have known?”

  The signs had all been there. All I’d had to do was ask Lir to his face about what he’d been doing. If he was responsible for everything. He’d have told me, I was sure, if I’d properly confronted him about it. He hadn’t believed he was doing anything wrong.

  And so I cried and I cried and I cried about all the things I should have done but knew, in my heart, that I never would have done. For if I’d known what Lir was up to the very moment he started I wouldn’t have handed him over to the police. I couldn’t fathom doing that, even now. No, I’d have told him to run off with me – I’d convince him that he didn’t need to go home, so he could stop with the sacrifices. He had me, and I had him.

  We could create a new home.

  I knew that would never have been enough for Lir.

  That was how Louisa found me some time later, her face pale despite her tan and her cheeks streaked with tears and mascara. “I was wondering where you were, Gracie,” she said, forcing a smile to her face when she caught David’s eye. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

  David shook his head as he gently extricated me from his arms. “David,” he said. “Grace was one of the demonstrators in my labs. We got on well so we became friends outside of it.” A pause. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  A practised look of – well, of nothing, really – was plastered to Louisa’s face. She glanced at me. “So you did make friends when I was gone.”

  “One friend,” I clarified, holding up a finger for emphasis. “One friend, who my boyfriend attacked and –”

  “I don’t think now’s the time for that,” David cut in quickly, noting the horror in Louisa’s eyes. Another awkward pause and then: “I’ll message you later, Grace, okay? And you have to answer because apparently I’m your second friend in the entire world.”

  I choked on a laugh that was more of a sob as he waved and left, leaving me alone with Louisa. For a couple of minutes neither of us said a word, and I wiped my tear-stained face until it was sort of dry again.

  Then she reached fo
r my hand. “Come on. The wake’s in my dad’s favourite pub. He and Josh used to go there for pints all the time even when Josh was only sixteen. I’d never have gotten away with it; I’m so short. But Josh was huge from, like, age twelve, so…”

  I couldn’t bear to listen to her talk about him even though I knew she was doing it as a coping mechanism. “Louisa, I can’t go,” I said over the top of her story, attempting to pull my hand away.

  But Louisa held on fast. “No. I’m not leaving you alone. What the hell kind of friend would I be if I did? And what the hell kind of friend would you be if you made me go to the damn wake without you?”

  She had a point and we both knew it. There was so much she didn’t know, though. So much that would ruin our friendship forever. “Okay,” I said. “Okay. I’ll go.”

  The pub was exactly the kind of place I expected it to be, but that was a problem. It was so similar to the pub in Millport. The one where I thought my life had been transformed for the better only to discover, too late, that it had also been the beginning of so much blood spilled because of me.

  Too much blood.

  “You know, I’m glad my dad never took me here,” Louisa said after we’d finished a bottle of prosecco whilst sitting at a sticky table hidden in the corner, out of sight. “It’s just an old man pub, isn’t it? Nothing special about it. Don’t know why I was so jealous of Josh. It stinks of smoke. Is it the seats? It must be.” She sniffed at the faded upholstery and winced. “Yeah, definitely the fabric. Ugh, I’ll never get this out of my dress. Though I don’t imagine I want to wear this again for the rest of my life.”

  She was rambling. Trying to make me feel better. I appreciated it more than she would ever know even as it sent daggers into my heart. Her brother was gone because of me. Not because he tried to save me from the villain of Scotland’s west coast but because I was the one who put the target on his back that led to his doom in the first place.

  I gulped down a sob.

  Louisa, being Louisa, could tell what I was thinking. Well, at least part of it.

  “This wasn’t your fault,” she soothed. “Everyone knows that, Grace. I’m just so glad you got away before – before...I don’t know what I’d have done if he took you from me, too.”

  She couldn’t even say Lir’s name. I couldn’t blame her.

  When I downed my drink in lieu of responding Louisa gave me the smallest of smiles. She reached for my hand, though we’d spent so much time holding each others’ hands that afternoon that I was surprised they weren’t still desperately entwined.

  “Come travelling with me,” she said.

  I stared at her. “Come…travelling?”

  Louisa nodded her head in earnest. “Like hell are you staying here after everything that happened to you. Aren’t you packing up the flat, anyway? Just throw everything out. Toss it all out and come with me to the other side of the world and let’s just live. Mum thinks I’m running from my grief by going back to Australia, of course, but dad agrees with me that it’s the right thing for me to do. And I think it’s the right think for you, Gracie.”

  I think she expected me to say no or that I’d need some convincing. “Okay,” I said, instead, surprising both her and me. “Yeah, you’re right. I can’t stay here. I have nothing – no-one – keeping me here.”

  Because I condemned him to the sea.

  The look of sheer delight on Louisa’s face crushed me. As she began gushing about all the things she couldn’t wait to show me – all the people she couldn’t wait for me to meet – I found myself perfunctorily agreeing with her and forcing smiles to my face.

  One day I would tell her. One day, when I could come to terms with the fact she'd never forgive me for it, I'd tell Louisa how I'd loved Lir to the very end despite all he'd done – that I'd been willing to die for him right up until the moment when I didn't. But I still needed her in my life. Without her I'd break down.

  So, one day, I would tell her. But not today. Today I’d finish packing up the flat, and then I’d escape my fears and guilt and broken heart by living somewhere sunny and responsibility-free with the best friend I’d betrayed in the worst way possible.

  After the wake it took lots of convincing for Louisa and her parents to allow me to go back to Glasgow on my own. In the end the promise that I’d video call Louisa whilst I finished packing everything up did the job, and I took an almost empty train back to the city.

  When I returned to the flat I was greeted by a stack of flat-packed boxes that my dad had brought over the day before, knowing I had to have everything packed by tomorrow when I handed the keys to my landlord. I didn’t have an ounce of willpower in me to even begin sorting through my stuff, but I knew if I didn’t start now then I really would do what Louisa suggested and throw everything out.

  When I walked into my bedroom to pack my clothes I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. The sliding door to the back terrace was ever-so-slightly ajar, the translucent curtain hanging over it billowing softly in the breeze.

  The air smelled of salt water.

  I stood frozen to the spot, eyes darting around as if Lir was somehow hiding in some minuscule corner of my room. But he wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t there. The surge of hope I’d felt the moment I’d smelled the sea crashed and burned around me, hearkening a fresh wave of tears. But then I noticed something fluttering on my pillow.

  Slowly, very slowly, I approached my bed as if it might bite me. I perched on the edge of it, hands shaking as I picked up the lined piece of notebook paper that lay there. Its edges were mottled and soft as if it had been wet at one point, and deep creases running through the paper told me it had been folded into a pocket for a very long time. I knew what was going to be on the other side before I turned it over.

  The sea, crashing upon the shore as a gull flew overhead. The picture Lir had drawn in the library, the evening we’d first spoken to one another. I could do nothing but stare at it, wiping the tears that spilled from my eyes before they could smear the precious blue ink upon the paper.

  If Lir had truly returned home, I hoped the gods were pleased with him. I hoped that he was happy.

  Excerpt from Invisible Monsters

  What truly separates monsters from men?

  Poppy King finds herself in trouble when she fails to book a two week retreat for her university sports club. Saved at the last minute when the handsome Dorian Kapros offers a massively discounted stay at his new facility, she happily accepts the too-good-to-be-true offer, enticed by the sound of Dorian's irresistible voice.

  But when Poppy survives an accident that should have killed her, Dorian does not react at all the way she expected him to. For Dorian is not what he seems, and his shiny facility may just be a front for something far more sinister.

  Read on for an excerpt from book one of H. L. Macfarlane’s thrilling Monsters trilogy!

  ***

  Dorian’s safety talk was short and sweet. He went over how to use the equipment – all stuff that the group was familiar with – before Poppy promptly ignored it all and began nimbly climbing up the wall without any equipment whatsoever.

  “King!” Fred exclaimed furiously. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Free-climbing,” Poppy called back simply. “I won’t go all the way to the top.” She was lying, of course. Poppy loved free-climbing more than anything else in the world. She never, ever fell.

  Except that, this time, she did.

  Poppy King had almost made it to the top of the climbing wall, expertly navigating the hand and foot holds like it was second nature, because it was. But then she glanced at Dorian, curious to know if he was watching her.

  He was. Like a hawk analysing a rabbit two hundred feet away, Dorian was watching her.

  And she fell.

  Poppy landed heavily on her right side, crushing her arm beneath her with a sickening crunch. For a few seconds nobody spoke. It almost felt as if nobody could breathe. A fall like that meant several broken bones
at the very least, but the way Poppy had landed…

  When she sat up, cringing in pain and barely able to think or see or hear, most everyone cried out in shock and relief.

  “How the hell is she –”

  “Oh my God I thought Morph was dead –”

  “I’ve never seen Poppy fall!”

  “Poppy, your arm…”

  Poppy could barely focus enough to look at her injury, but she didn’t need to see properly to know that it was red and hot with blood. Before she had the chance to react, however, someone swept her up into their arms and carried her away.

  “I’ll deal with this!” Dorian exclaimed. “I’ll call an ambulance if I have to. Fred, Andrew – can I leave it to the two of you to clean up here? There should be some staff members in the kitchen!”

  “What happened?” Poppy groaned in Dorian’s arms. “I don’t – I don’t fall.”

  Dorian chuckled humourlessly. “Seems like you do, Poppy King.” He kicked open the door to the infirmary and placed Poppy on a bed before hurriedly grabbing everything he needed to clean and dress her arm.

  There was so much blood. Poppy had never considered herself queasy but the sight of her own blood made her head spin painfully. And was that – bone?

  Dorian made quick work of cleaning up the blood, brows knitted together in worry as he worked. Poppy could tell what he was thinking: if she had bled this much then she must have hurt herself very, very badly.

  But then Dorian’s frown melted into confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  Poppy risked looking down at her arm. Now that Dorian had cleaned up the worst of the mess she could see that her arm was barely even bleeding anymore. The exposed and broken bone Poppy had been sure she’d seen had disappeared. Even as she stared the long slash that rent open her skin began to seal itself.

  She didn’t want to say anything. She didn’t want Dorian to say anything.

  Because Poppy knew this would happen.