Page 2 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

B eyond the horizon, a steel wall of the Atlantic bears down on me, threatening to carry away any evidence of my existence from this lifetime. Sheets of piercing rain mix with salt as the grey sea rises up on all sides, swallowing me whole. I battle the crashing waves and against the thundering storm to fight my way back to the jagged coastline. My shoulders scream from the effort and the sharp stitch in my ribs feels like daggers plunging into my lungs as I try to swallow the night air. Instead, mouthfuls of the ocean fill my throat.

Clawing at the crested waves, I tumble like a ragdoll in the icy depths while the imposing clouds above me witness my losing battle. Like an itch at the edge of my consciousness, someone else is here. I feel his breath in unison with my ragged heaving.

Will the journey back to land offer my salvation, or hold my imminent demise once more? This familiar torment never fails to end me. It never fails to stop us.

Gales of the storm deafen my ears as wave after wave slams me back into the seabed. My fingers dig into the muck, gripping, as I push myself forward to the surface and shoreline. Chopping through the small peaks of the shallows, I stumble and climb through tide pools full of spiny little creatures that make my skin crawl and emerge into the center of the most beautiful cove I have ever seen.

Above me, the swirling storm clouds dissipate to reveal the full moon , which bathes the rough sand in a ghostly, violet glow. The rocks, the lapping water, the brush—it all seems to shift colors as I scan the landscape. Where the wind had chilled me to the bone, it now cradles me in its warm embrace. Within the heart of the cove, the deepest shadows form the shape of a man, becoming more corporeal with each heartbeat that passes. My heart clenches , and a sob tumbles from my lips.

My breath hitches at the sight of him. This man is beautiful in a weathered way—like the polished gemstone you find at the edge of a beach where the ocean meets the sand. Never in my life have I ever encountered such a creature , whose power feels like a beacon.

Standing tall like the stone pillars beside him, his obvious strength was rooted more deeply than his outward stature. Even from where I stand, I can see the galaxies glimmering in his grey eyes, which slowly turn in my direction.

“It’s you,” I whisper, wanting to step toward him, but I can’t move. My eyes have never seen him, though I know him. Our souls have met before, as if we are fabricated from the same shards of stardust.

Pain. Anguish. All the lifetimes of torture pour out of him and into me as he registers my existence.

As if a binding around my ankles snapped, I take a moment to pause before testing my balance. Stepping forward out of the shallows, the pebbled shore crunches underfoot. Once I am a breath away, his eyes, as grey as the tormented sea, search mine. They behold centuries of life filled with countless moments of suffering, flickering with internal flames that warm the darkest depths of my being.

His steady hand contrasts my shuddering against the cold as he reaches for mine. We are far too close, and I fear what will happen if we touch. His stark expression grows in intensity as he towers over me, and I shudder again. Lines mark the creases of his mouth and eyes, and his tilted chin, clenching hard as he drinks me in, is covered in black stubble. Strands of his dark hair catch on his collar, some falling forward and brushing his sharp cheekbones.

“Raina.” His lips part as his deep voice speaks my name, reverberating from his chest and penetrating through mine. I shut my eyes, savoring each syllable, missing how his accent entwines with his tongue.

As we stand here, under the ethereal curtains of moonlight, something extraordinary begins. Barely touching, a current of energy charges through our hands. The power is almost tangible, tempting me to caress it. Reflected in his eyes, his fire blazes even brighter as I feel my own inferno kindle to life.

An imperceptible tether holds us in place, anchoring us together, my heart to his. The familiarity is unmistakable, although I have never set eyes on him before. Logic and sense cease to exist, and I accept the impossible truth.

Between us, the air is still, heavy with the essence of cypress and sea salt, melding together with smokey vanilla. It intoxicates me, causing the heavens to spin most deliciously. I would have sworn this was a dream if I didn’t feel the sand between my toes or his breath mingling with mine.

My heart pounds in my chest , and my eyes brim with tears as I stare up at him, lost for words now that we have found each other.

He belongs to me.

I belong to him.

We are woven from the fibers of time for one another. His hands reach to cradle my face, as if I am a treasure to be revered…for eternity.

His lips are on mine in a heartbeat, and time and space around us tear apart. The cove cradles us as we fall into nothingness together. Here, we stay, draped in starlight and shadows as the embers blaze between us.

“Where is that damned coffee pot?” I grunted into the depths of the garage. It was too early for me to dig through the stacks of boxes and off-kilter furniture. Slamming the garage door shut , harder than I meant to, I stepped back into the driveway and rubbed my hands over my face. Hopefully , I didn’t wake up any of my neighbors. “Like that fucking bird,” I growled.

Coffee was an essential priority every morning of my existence. I was not naturally inclined to appreciate the splendor of early mornings and begrudgingly conceded the hope of falling back to sleep. My phone revealed it was a quarter till six a.m., and the day had barely begun. Groaning, I climbed up the steps to my apartment door and leaned my forehead against the wall.

“Stupid bird.” I heard another caw from beyond the looming pines behind my garage apartment. Not only was I having the best dream of my life—which had been so rudely interrupted by that god awful crow— it also felt so real.

Stretching my arms and then rubbing the lingering sleep from my eyes, I desperately tried to gather my senses, but without caffeine in my bloodstream, it was a moot point. The dream had been so vivid. I could still taste the salt air on my tongue, feel his lips on mine, but the more I tried to hold onto the dream, the more it escaped, like the receding tide.

Emotion rose in my throat as I shut my eyes, trying to remember the lines of his face. Rubbing my chest with the palm of my hand, it took me a moment to register the throbbing ache. Without warning, my chin quivered, and a sob escaped me. We finally made it back to each other… My head pounded relentlessly as I tried to make sense of it all, and the waves of emotion weren’t helping. After a few deep breaths, I got myself back under control, but rage, anguish, and most heavily, grief churned just beneath the surface.

As if I needed to add any more grief to the already suffocating loss I felt. I did not need my fucked-up brain to sabotage me further by displacing my emotions into a hyper realistic dream where I finally met the love of my life. Deep in my chest, I still felt the ache of yearning for the man in my dream. How much can one person take?

God, there was so much to unpack there. What would my therapist say?

Dawn’s early rays danced across the restless sea, making the small crests glitter like rubies. The sunrise was blood red in the cloudy sky, glowing in the morning mist as it spilled in through the kitchen window. The sun was a giant orb that seemed to pulse as it rose from below the horizon, and although the sight was jarring, it created a warmth inside of me. I felt my ribs thread themselves back together, just a bit. Who knows how long it would take me to get used to the island’s macabre features. The sun was quite an ominous sight, but it reflected my exact mood. These past few months were a living hell, so it was only fitting that I’d move to a place that’s inspired by blood and ash, desolation and fire, salt and bone.

Grey skies, the red sun, and sharp bluffs were the defining characteristics of Redd Hills Island. My mother didn’t speak of her hometown often, but when she did, her voice would be reverent, as if reciting a little prayer. Occasionally, she would mention the anomaly of the island where she had grown up. Without ever elaborating further, she explained that the crimson daylight was due to the atmosphere. She moved away as soon as she turned eighteen, met my father, and had my older brother, Jeff, and me. The two of us grew up with life as normal as you could imagine. Until our dad died ten years ago.

Nothing could erase the sounds of Jeff’s sobs from my memory. Our mother was in the hospital room while I paced its hallway. My brother stood motionless in the doorway with his eyes locked onto the monitors that were tethered to our father during his last moments. At only fifteen, I could barely process grief that painful. For months, I was merely a shell, watching life continue around me while completely detached from reality.

Now, the pain of my mother’s death was all-consuming and invasive like an eternal parasite devouring any glimmer of joy in my life, and I became the perfect host for the dismal creature. In these few weeks since her death, I continued to lose even more of myself, no longer seeing the point of finishing my degree or planning a future. Sinking into the mattress, I scanned the small space , wondering what about Redd Hills Island made her want to leave and never return. Because the past she ran from was now the only future I had.

Nestled on top of the two-car garage, the apartment was fully displayed from where I sat. The space was small but comfortable. I needed the extra storage below; the spare space held my treasured artifacts and heirlooms from estate sales that I collected with my mother since childhood. Trailing my eyes along the quaint kitchen and into the living area, I let out a breath of remorse. I lost so much more than my mother over the last few weeks, and this was where I found myself.

Soft gusts of crisp ocean air billowed through the open window beside the bed, and I wrapped my cardigan tighter around my shoulders. Lighting an herbal bundle I made, I promptly blew out the tiny flame. Between my fingers, the smoke made the most beautiful shapes. Waving the constant stream of smoke around myself, I stood and toured the apartment, allowing the space to be cleansed. Herbs mixed with the coastal breeze, the aroma of bay leaves, lavender, and cinnamon would hopefully help relieve my overbearing anxiety and calm me down enough to get through the day.

I scanned the distance beyond the pines through the kitchen window, nearly making out the coastline. Trees swayed, and I could spot the sharp bluffs of the island as they dropped off into the ocean without warning. Above the rocks and evergreens, a massive crow clumsily flapped through the air. It flew along the canopy toward the wild brush beside the road until it met a rusty orange figure. Was that a fox? Eyeing the creatures until they disappeared into the coastal forest, I continued with my smoke cleanse, focusing on the windowsills and doorways. I took extra care around the sliding door that led to the balcony which hung over the garage doors to ensure the entryways were deeply anointed. Breathing in the aromatic smoke, I sighed at the sight of the nondescript street below. A pang of regret struck me as I hoped it would be a bit more bustling to distract me.

This end of the main road was as dead as could be, whereas a few blocks north, life was already set into motion for the day. Shops, a pharmacy, a cafe, and even a single-screen movie theater lined either side of Peak Drive, the main street of Downtown Redd Hills Island. Having given up on finding the coffee machine, I quickly turned to the internet, which revealed that The Brew House coffee shop was within a short walk. The five-star reviews showed me it would be worth the effort.

Downtown was named for the concept and not the location. Peak Drive split Redd Hills in half from north to south, with only three traffic lights at the busiest part in the heart of the island. The sidewalks on either side of Peak Drive were cracked by tree roots and aged until I reached the busier intersections, where the concrete was much newer. There was a point where the town was actually cared for, with freshly painted lines in the road, smooth sidewalks, and even manicured sections of landscaping at the traffic light corners. The small-town vibe was immaculate with its quaint shops sporting intricate displays, old biddies chatting on a bench in the middle of all the morning bustle, and the fact that almost every shop had a bowl of water in front for any bypassing dogs.

As if a force dampened the air around me, the feeling of being watched was almost staggering when I left my apartment. While I walked toward the coffee shop, there was no mistaking that feeling. My skin tingled under the gaze of every set of eyes on me, and my cheeks flushed. Taking a deep breath, I tried not to look paranoid as I entered The Brew House.

“Good morning,” the barista said politely. She didn’t take her eyes off me from the moment I stepped in front of her, lingering even after she handed me my latte. “You’re not from here,” she said with a small smile, lacking subtlety.

“No, I just moved here.” I returned the smile. The handful of seated patrons turned in their seats to listen. Fighting the awkward laugh that was building in my chest, I met their eyes. “You don’t get new people around here often, I guess,” I chuckled, and so did the barista. I never imagined ending up in Downeast Maine…but life happens.

“Not really, no. Most people try to leave Redd Hills, not move to it.” Even though her voice was light, I couldn’t help but feel like her words had an edge to them. But that’s just how my brain has been workinglately—always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the impending tragedy that will shatter anything good and happy in my life. Beyond the plate glass window, the sun was even higher in the grey sky, cloaking the town in a red haze. The island matched my entire mood. Tilting her head, the barista offered a genuine smile. “I hope you settle in well enough. Welcome.”

Customers gave me polite nods and words of welcome as I exited the coffee shop. It was such a peculiar feeling, not quite ostracizing; actually, I couldn’t place it. Curious stares and subtle murmurs continued to follow me as I walked the distance back to my apartment, tempting me to shout, “Yes! I’m new here,” just to appease them, but that would have made an embarrassing first impression. Did Eamon experience this when he came downtown to meet with my landlord? My phone buzzed a block away from the main intersection of Peak Drive and a road called Chestnut Street.

“You’re up early.” Speak of the Devil. My stepfather’s voice lacked any exhaustion—a tell-tale sign of his early bird persona.

“I didn’t plan to be. The birds here are so loud,” I grumbled before sipping my latte.

“Ok, Rai.” I could hear the humor in his voice. Eamon deserved to smile, but the pain of losing my mom made that carefree man become something else entirely. He put in a good effort for my little brother RJ, but Eamon was barely hanging on. My mom was pure daylight. Blossoms in spring. A crisp sun-shower that made you feel alive. Life had been stolen from us and everyone else whose lives she touched when she died.

“Sorry. What’s up?” I tried to sound less grumpy.

“I’m taking RJ school shopping downtown if you want to meet up with us,” he said.

“Is Rai coming?” I heard Reagan John shout from somewhere near Eamon.

“Sure, I’ll be there,” I replied, already feeling the delightful effect of my latte.

“I’ll text you when we’re headed over. The stores don’t open until after ten anyway, so you have time to wake up,” he chuckled once more.

“Sounds good. Is Jeff there?” I hadn’t heard from my older brother since I arrived yesterday.

“No, he left for the docks before sunrise. Probably won’t be home until late like usual.” Eamon’s smile seemed less present. Jeff and Eamon barely coexisted. After our mother married Eamon, Jeff had become like an apparition in the family—visible only during the hours that could be considered very late or entirely too early.

Jeff was able to quickly get a job at the harbor here on the island, joining our small family’s migration. His boss told him they always needed help at the docks since everything had to be shipped to the island, anything to sustain modern life, and people needed to be there to receive and unload it all. Before we moved, Jeff mentioned that he’d be glad to work the fourteen-hour shifts, and not just for the money. It was a sacrifice for him to spend so much time apart from me and RJ, but avoiding being under the same roof as Eamon would be for the best…Though RJ doesn’t let on much about the arguing, and more so, the ignoring of one another between Eamon and Jeff; it was very taxing on him. With the three of them living in my mother’s childhood home, Jeff working on the north shore while still being nearby RJ was for the best overall.

“Alright, well I’ll see you later,” I said as a cat darted across the street toward the main intersection.

“Bye, Rai.” Eamon hung up.

The cat ran up to a pair of black boots and rubbed itself against their owner’s legs. Reaching down, the man scratched the ears of the grey tabby. I sipped my coffee as the man looked up and met my eyes. Coffee shot out of my throat as I wretched in a fit of coughs, spilling the hot liquid all down my front. There was absolutely no way—

My eyes widened in disbelief. The man—still looking down Peak Drive toward where I stood—straightened and took a step toward me before abruptly turning to speak with a black-haired woman who just skipped out from the boutique beside him. I dipped my head and hastily walked back to my apartment, trying not to further embarrass myself by sprinting away.

Shutting my door, I pressed my back against the cool wood and closed my eyes. My chest heaved as the air in my lungs fought against my racing heartbeat while it pounded against my ribcage. Because when that man’s familiar storm-grey eyes looked up through the loose strands of his dark hair, the impossible had happened.

It was him .