Page 3 of Surging Reef

Kazimir walked along the rocky beach with Pharos in his arms, terrified of falling since it would mean he’d risk crushing him. Pharos couldn’t clamber over rocks with his leg in a cast.

Maybe it had been stupid to bring him, but he couldn’t go on an adventure without his best bud. What kind of partner would it make him?

“Look.” He spoke low near Pharos’ ear as he pointed at a sad-looking rowboat tied to a pole sticking out of the water. Did it mean it was high water?

There was one large rock near the boat, but no way to get there without either walking into the water or jumping on stones a little too far apart for Kazimir’s liking.

“Damn.” He walked closer. “How do we do it?” He met Pharos’ gaze and got a happy yip in reply.

“How deep do you think it is?” He couldn’t get Pharos’ cast wet. The vet hadn’t said anything about it, but he assumed he wasn’t allowed to since humans couldn’t shower with their casts.

Could he place Pharos on a rock, jump into the black water, and get the boat?

A shiver shot through him. What if there were crabs on the ocean floor?

Or jellyfish. He hated the feel of jellyfish.

Slimy blobs with no sense of direction. They did nothing to avoid a collision when you were out swimming, and since it was August, lion’s mane jellyfish would have arrived.

He did not want to get stung.

He gazed into the dark water. He wouldn’t have to walk more than a few steps or swim if it were deep. It wouldn’t be deep, right? He squinted at the calm lapping against the rocks. Nah, it couldn’t be deep. The pole the boat was fastened to must be dug into the seabed.

He lowered Pharos to the rock. “Stay here.”

He toed off his shoes and undid his cargo pants, making sure his phone was in one of the pockets, and put them in his break-and-enter backpack.

He pulled out the bolt cutter, not sure how the boat was attached to the pole, and left the backpack next to Pharos.

“Guard it with your life, buddy. My phone is in there.” Then he slowly slid his feet into the water.

He shuddered. Not because it was cold, it wasn’t, but because he didn’t have a clue what was hiding under the surface.

Bladderwrack seaweed was caressing his calves, and he closed his lips around a sound. He slid deeper into the water, the moon watching him as his underwear got soaked. Then he touched sand.

Blowing out a breath, he looked at Pharos, who was watching him with a tilted head.

“Stay there, boy.” He moved forward and bumped his foot on a stone.

Fuck. He hissed as his big toe voiced its displeasure, but moved forward.

This was ridiculous. He was one step away from land, and his heart was beating a mile a minute.

Then he shrieked. There was no better word for it, but something was scurrying over his foot. He kicked, then before he was aware of what he was doing, he was swimming. No more feet on the ground. Fucking crabs or rockpool shrimps or whatever. Ugh.

Pharos yipped, and Kazimir forced himself to calm down. It was the sea. He went to the beach a few times a week, even to beaches without lighthouses nearby. The only difference was that it was dark.

“I’m okay. Stay.”

He swam a few one-handed strokes since he was clutching the bolt cutter in his right hand. His wet shirt was clinging to his body. Stupid not to get all the way undressed.

When he reached the rowboat, he made a triumphant sound. There was a chain hooked through a metal ring attached to the pole, and on the chain was a padlock.

The dull plop as the padlock fell into the ocean after he’d cut it shouldn’t be satisfying, but it was.

“We’re master thieves, Pharos.”

Pharos whined and moved on the rock.

“Stay.” The last thing they needed was for Pharos to fall into the water.

Kazimir swam toward Pharos, holding on to the chain in one hand and the bolt cutter in the other. He was sure Michael Phelps would’ve been impressed. Or not.

When his knee hit a rock, he reluctantly stood. He waited a second to see if something would wriggle under his feet, but nothing did.

“Right.” He pulled the boat closer and stepped up on the stone where the bladderwrack was growing. His knees were above the surface, and he curled his toes as best he could on the slippery rock as he grabbed the gunwale and brought the boat as close as possible.

First, he grabbed the break-and-enter backpack and put it on the seat, then he eyed Pharos.

He couldn’t ask him to jump since he wasn’t allowed to jump, which meant he’d have to let go of the boat for the time it took to lift him.

He carefully removed his hand, and when the boat didn’t move, he snatched Pharos as fast as he could and placed him on the deck or whatever you called the floor.

Now he had to get in himself. Damn.

He spun the boat, so the bow was aimed at Surging Reef, then he placed one foot on the deck and pushed away from the rock with the other. For a moment, he was sure they’d capsize, but then he more or less fell over the seat, and it stabilized.

“Fuck, Pharos. This is why we’re getting a lighthouse and not a houseboat. Lighthouses are sturdy things.”

Pharos moved restlessly from one side of the boat to the other, looking over the side and down at the water.

Kazimir grabbed the oars and got rowing. His wet underwear and shirt dripped onto the seat but there was no use in changing his outfit now. He’d most likely have to bathe again when they went back. He did his best not to think about it.

* * * *

There was a strange sound. Ashby wasn’t sure if it was real or in his head, but he strained to hear it. It sounded like metal on metal, which didn’t make any sense.

Had the waves brought something that was slamming against the rocks?

Was it Anne?

He stopped breathing. He didn’t want to die. He might have told himself he did, since it would put him out of his misery, but he didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready.

Panic clawed at him. He was too weak to face her. Too weak to keep up a front. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing him broken.

Should he try to move? No, better to play dead.

She’d never believe he was dead. She, if anyone, knew how hard vampires were to kill. Starvation didn’t do it.

How long had he been here? He wanted to say weeks, but if it had been weeks, he wouldn’t be this lucid.

Another metallic clank sounded, and he held his breath. Vampires didn’t need to breathe. It was a reflex, and not breathing meant not scenting anything, which could drive anyone insane.

Hinges whined, and Ashby’s heart jumped to his throat. Someone was here.

He should’ve moved into a relaxed-looking pose, not sprawled face down on the stone slabs, but now there was no time to move.

He was too sluggish to make it quick, so better to remain where he was.

Maybe he could surprise whoever was gracing him with a visit.

Play dead, then attack when they were close enough.

If it were Naveen, he’d kill him.

He waited.

And waited.

Why wasn’t anyone speaking? By now, Anne would’ve been crooning at him. Belittling him. If she’d sent someone to check on him, they’d be kicking at him.

Then there was a growl in the dark.

Ashby tensed. What the fuck growled like that? It didn’t sound like a person.

“Easy, boy.”

Ashby stiffened only to force his body to relax. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“Wow, this is amazing. Want to go up, see if we can reach the lantern room? I bet you can see to the end of the world from there.”

Was he hallucinating? It was possible, but would he make up a growling monster?

“Come on, bud.”

There was a rustle, but they, whoever was here—real or not—never entered the room he was in. Something close to panic overtook Ashby’s mind as they moved away.

Silence stretched, and he blew out a breath, making sure he was still alive.

Had it all been in his head?

An eternity went by, then something banged above him.

He didn’t jump at the sound. It would take energy he didn’t have, but someone was moving around in the lighthouse, and he didn’t think it was Anne.

The voice had been male. It didn’t mean it wasn’t one of her guards, of course, but wouldn’t they have checked on him instead of the lantern room, if it was what they were doing?

He wouldn’t call the feeling growing inside hope, since he wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, but he strained to pick up on any and every sound.

He zoned out. Not intentionally, but when the sounds came closer, he jerked as if he’d woken from a slumber.

They came closer and closer, and then there was another growl.