Page 2 of Surging Reef

Ashby jerked awake. How he’d managed to fall asleep, he didn’t know. He smacked his lips, his tongue as dry as a desert. Fuck, he was thirsty. And hungry.

For a few seconds, he did nothing but lie in the same position as when he’d come to. Moving would only hurt more.

A seagull screeched outside. Did it mean it was daytime? It didn’t matter. No one would come unless Anne herself wanted to visit him.

If she did, he assumed it would be the last thing happening to him.

Another cry from a gull, confirming his suspicion that it was daytime.

Would she leave him here to starve to death?

Nah, she’d want his head on a pike. It was tradition, after all. In the Dark Ages, criminals had been rowed out to the tiny island where they’d been beheaded, and their heads placed on pikes staked to the ground, so people on the mainland beach could look out and see them against the backdrop.

Cinematic.

Anne did the same thing these days, though she didn’t leave the heads up for long since some poor sucker might walk along the beach and see it. It would be hard to explain to the authorities. What if they found a head with weirdly sharp teeth?

It was how rumors of cults were created.

Ashby listened to the waves. Calm weather. Did it mean she’d come? She most likely wouldn’t step into a rowboat if there was a storm.

Steeling himself, he flopped over onto his back. A snarl bounced off the stone walls. Part of him wished this could be over, another part didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of killing him. She-devil.

His head swam as he looked down his body. He didn’t continue the inspection down to the cuff around his ankle. No need to look at it.

If she left him for another day or two, he’d be no more. His body was eating itself. The skeletal look didn’t suit him.

Maybe she’d bring a snack to prolong his suffering.

He groaned. It would be her style. Bring a human for him to drink from, then watch him deteriorate again. He could see her do it over and over, for the fun of it. Watch him turn into a skeleton, then bounce back when he got some blood, then starve him again. A lovely routine.

Maybe it was better to die.

* * * *

Kazimir stuffed his mouth full of spaghetti with marinara sauce as he studied the map on his phone. He sipped on a glass of red wine only to put it away and zoom in on the screen.

“Up for a night’s adventure, Pharos?”

Pharos raised his head from where he’d rested it on his plush, round dog bed. The scent of newness still clung to it.

“Drink more wine or drive?” Kazimir tilted his head to the side, which made Pharos tilt his head to the side too, a lot more alert now.

Kazimir glanced at the wine glass. He’d only had a sip, so he could place it on the counter and drink it when they came home again. He’d been in the mood for wine, but Surging Reef was, according to Google, an hour and thirteen minutes away, and he’d never been there.

He ate some more spaghetti and clicked the link. Surging Reef was a tiny, tiny island and there had been an octagonal wooden lighthouse built in 1696, but it had succumbed to the weather, and now there was a masonry lighthouse on the northern tip of the island where the octagon used to stand.

“Says here, Surging Reef is the smallest island with a building on. Isn’t that cool?” He looked up at Pharos. “Do you know how to row?”

How would they get hold of a rowing boat? There had to be some nearby he could borrow. It wouldn’t take many minutes to row to the island.

“It’s hundred and sixty-seven feet tall and was built in 1847. When the tide rolls in, the island is mostly underwater and only the lighthouse sticks up above the surface.” He took another bite of food. “How the fuck do we know when there will be tide?”

He put the fork down. “We should go. It says here they used to kill felons on this island in the 13th century. They left them on the island with two loaves of bread and waited for the sea to swallow them. Dramatic.”

He looked at Pharos again. “Do you think we’ll find bones if we manage to get there during the ebb? Nah, they’ve been washed away, right?” And they’d built the lighthouse after, so if there had been any human remains, they’d most likely cleaned them up.

Shoveling more food into his mouth, he chewed faster, excitement grabbing hold of him.

“Let’s do it, Pharos. We’ll go, borrow a boat, and check the lighthouse out.

We’ll be back here before anyone notices we’re gone.

” He snorted. No one ever noticed when he was gone.

Or maybe Alan fucking Anderson, his overbearing neighbor, would, but he’d only be glad Kazimir was gone.

They’d notice at work too…after a while.

One of the pros of being a medical coder working from home was that he didn’t have to be in an office.

As long as the job was done, no one cared where he was.

Which meant if they were interviewed by the cops because he’d gone missing, they wouldn’t have a clue what had happened to him.

It didn’t matter. He was part of a duo now. He had Pharos. Some idiot hitting him with their car was the best thing that could’ve happened to Kazimir. Maybe not the hitting him with their car part, but finding Pharos was the best thing in a long, long time.

He finished the food on his plate, went to change into ninja clothes, i.e.

a pair of snug but non-restricting black cargo pants and a long-sleeved, slim-fit black cotton T-shirt.

It was what everyone wore on a mission. He glanced at Pharos, who’d limped after him into the bedroom. “The pink clashes with my outfit, bro.”

It wasn’t Pharos’ fault. Kazimir had begged the vet’s assistant for the pink cast.

“Let’s go!”

* * * *

Ashby was shaking. He’d never been this starved, so he didn’t know if it was a natural response. Did you shake when you were starving?

He didn’t have the energy to change position, but his bones were hurting as they pressed against the stone floor. His skin was the only thing between the sharp edges and the unforgiving surface.

Would she come tonight? She had to. He wasn’t sure he’d last much longer.

He would.

Vampires were hard to kill. Turning them into breathing skeletons wasn’t enough to end their misery. Sadly.

How had he ended up here?

An image of Naveen’s smug smile flashed in his mind, and he snarled. He would kill the little tart. It would be worth it. Anne would kill him for sure, but the fucking asshole deserved to die.

Ashby groaned and imagined how the sound traveled up the tower. He didn’t think it did. There were too many rooms, too many nooks and crannies capable of capturing a sound, but he imagined it reaching the lantern room. If sounds had a color, it would shine out over the sea.

A sob caught in his throat.

If he ever got out of here, he’d leave Waterside. He’d move somewhere far away from the sea. Somewhere where people would hear him if he screamed.

Somewhere where he had a chance of being rescued.