There was a reason she never fell – that she climbed so recklessly. Because, as a child, when she had fallen, she’d never gotten hurt the way she should. When she realised that cuts and scrapes healed inordinately quickly Poppy learned to hide that she had ever been hurt at all in front of people. She knew it wasn’t normal to heal this rapidly.
“You don’t have any broken bones.”
Not a question; a statement.
Poppy shook her head.
“Did you cut yourself anywhere else?” Dorian asked as he began dressing and bandaging Poppy’s arm, for all the good that it would do.
She shook her head again.
Dorian’s frown returned though he continued working in silence. Poppy didn’t dare say anything. She didn’t know what to say, anyway. Then he rubbed a hand against his face, unwittingly smearing some of Poppy’s blood across his mouth and chin.
Dorian’s confusion disappeared to be replaced by surprise.
“Um, Dorian…?” Poppy asked uncertainly. She’d expected him to clean the blood from his face immediately, but he hadn’t. Instead he stared at Poppy as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Considering how quickly she’d healed he probably couldn’t.
Then he averted his eyes and took a step back from her. “Go clean the rest of yourself up, Poppy,” he murmured. “Maybe don’t tell anyone about your…arm.”
Poppy got up wordlessly, wobbling slightly on her feet before regaining her balance. When Dorian didn’t say anything more she walked away. But when she reached the door to the central building, she paused.
What do I say to everyone? she worried. Though only five people actually saw the fall everyone will know about it by now. And I’m barely hurt at all.
She glanced back at the door to the infirmary. She couldn’t understand Dorian’s reaction whatsoever. It wasn’t how anyone normal would have responded to what he saw happen with his own eyes. Poppy was hopelessly, confusingly curious.
Glancing upwards she saw that the ceiling tiles above her were akin to those found in offices and schools – the kind one could lift easily. Judging the height she’d need to get through the ceiling, Poppy kicked off the wall to gain enough momentum to grab one of the metal rails that supported the tiles. Swinging in place for a few seconds, Poppy then hauled herself up, head bumping the tile out of the way as she did so. She winced at the pain in her arm when she put her weight on it.
With some effort Poppy pulled the rest of her body through the ceiling before her arm gave way, putting the tile back in place as she took a deep breath. “What the hell am I doing?” she murmured, shaking as she crawled through the ceiling until she was certain she was just above Dorian in the infirmary. She just barely lifted the edge of a tile to confirm this: the man was pacing back and forth as he muttered to himself. Something about him seemed different.
Poppy wasn’t sure what.
“…fucking blood. Immortal blood! I can’t bid her off. God no. I want her. They can’t know, otherwise they’ll eat her instead of –”
Dorian abruptly paused in his nonsensical rambling. With unnaturally keen eyes he located Poppy’s position in the ceiling just as she replaced the tile. Her breathing came in loud, sharp, painful gasps that she could hardly control; everything about the situation she was in screamed danger.
Somehow finding the strength to turn around Poppy made to escape back the way she came. But then the tile behind her came crashing down and she felt an excruciatingly tight, cold grasp around her ankle.
With a scream Poppy was wrenched from the ceiling, landing heavily on the linoleum floor at Dorian’s feet. She stared up at him in shock that quickly curdled into fear. Dorian didn’t look like himself at all. He loomed over her, much taller than he’d been before. Impossibly tall.
The arm that hauled her from the ceiling ended with dark, gleaming, wickedly-sharp claws. They were all she could focus on; one swipe of those claws across her throat and even she would die before she could heal herself. Whereas before Poppy couldn’t get air into her lungs fast enough, now she found she couldn’t breathe at all.
Dorian grinned at her as he continued to somehow change form in front of her very eyes.
“You really are too curious for your own good, Poppy.”
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Acknowledgements
I came up with the idea for The Boy from the Sea after seeing The Lighthouse, which was one of the four films I managed to see in 2020 before lockdown began (the other three being The Invisible Man, The Hunt and, of course, Sonic the Hedgehog). I wanted to write a book steeped in mythology that wasn’t strictly fantasy, and so it was that The Boy from the Sea was born.
I hope everyone enjoyed it. It took me months to work out exactly how I wanted the plot to go, and then it took me far longer than I thought it would to actually write the book. But I liked the end product so it’s all good!
I’d like to thank Kirsty for not only editing The Boy from the Sea but also providing me with the absolute best comments, feedback and reactions as she read each section of the book for me. It provided me with more motivation to complete the book than I could possibly put into words.
This is the first book I’ve ever written that isn’t part of a series or trilogy. Which is so bizarre! I want to write more standalones now. It’s a completely different challenge to writing a story in multiple parts or having characters appear in other books to continue their story.
Thank you for reading The Boy from the Sea. I hope you look forward to more from me in the future.
All my love,
Hayley
About the Author
Hayley Louise Macfarlane hails from the very tiny hamlet of Balmaha on the shores of Loch Lomond in Scotland. Having spent eight years studying at the University of Glasgow and graduating with a BSc (hons) in Genetics and then a PhD in Synthetic Biology, Hayley quickly realised that her long-term passion for writing trumped her desire to work in a laboratory.
Now Hayley spends her time writing across a whole host of genres, particularly fairy tales and psychological horror. During 2019, Hayley set herself the ambitious goal of publishing one thing every month. Seven books, two novellas, two short stories and one box set later, she made it. She recommends that anyone who values their sanity and a sensible sleep cycle does not try this.
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