When Darkness Falls

by Chanda Stafford

  Okay, Austen. Time for a new plan. You’re going to have to swim for the shore before that fish-creature comes back.

  Too late. The fish bumps against the backs of my legs, almost knocking me under the surface again. I shriek and splash wildly, desperate to stay afloat.

  Thick-scaled bodies roll through the waves all around me. I’m surrounded. Panicked, I shout for help, even though I know it’s useless. If these creatures want me dead, I don’t stand a chance.

  When one of the bodies slithers in front of me again, I kick it as hard as I can while treading water. It rolls over, revealing a scaly cream-colored belly that ends in a long, finlike flipper. That can’t be right. There aren’t any fish in the Great Lakes that have a tail shaped like that. It’s impossible.

  Horror bubbles up within me as the fish-creature flips over and rears itself halfway out of the water. An alien-like head at the top of a long, lean torso leers at me with slitted yellow eyes. Clumps of seaweed-colored hair hang around its face, and it opens its mouth, revealing dagger-sharp yellow teeth. Another monster joins it, identical except it has a smaller build and darker scales.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. This can’t be happening. Any minute now, I’m going to wake up in bed, drenched in sweat, but safe. I’ll be safe on dry land, not about to get attacked by whatever these horrors are called.

  The creature turns and warbles to its mate, an eerie trilling that chills me to the core. A scream bursts from my lips. I’m going to die. Ezra won’t know that the pictures were correct after all. There really are monsters in Misery Bay.

  One of the creatures wraps its arms around my legs and pulls me downward. Darkness hits me, swift and silent, and my mind goes blank.

  ***

  “Can you hear me? Wake up, girl. Come on. Stay with me,” a man’s gruff voice breaks through the fog inside my head.

  My lungs seize, and water rises up in my throat. I gag, choking and hacking until it’s all gone. I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand, covering it with wet, sticky sand.

  “There you go. That’s better.”

  “Who are you?” I croak, raising my head to survey the sandy beach stretching all around me. To my left, the sand turns to rocks that lead to a cave.

  The man crouching next to me isn’t much older than I am, maybe nineteen or twenty. Shoulder-length black hair curls around his ears and down the nape of his neck. A soaking-wet white button-up shirt stretches across his broad chest, tapering to a pair of dripping blue jeans and bare feet. The stranger’s pale-blue eyes pierce mine. A strange sense of déjà vu niggles at my mind. I swear I’ve seen this guy before.

  “Ian. My name is Ian.” The gruffness returns to his voice. “And you’re trespassing.” Ian shifts just enough to reveal the lighthouse.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I was just—”

  “Skulking around where you don’t belong?” He raises one dark eyebrow at me.

  “I was looking for something. Let me call my mom and I’ll get out of here.” I swipe at the gritty sand coating my clothes and body and force myself to my feet. I fumble around in my pocket and peel out my phone, my stomach sinking. The black waterlogged screen mocks me.

  “Come on.” Ian offers me his hand. “Let’s get you inside. I have a phone you can use there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He chuckles. “Of course not, but you can’t stay out here. What’s your name, anyway?”

  “Austen.” I shiver when I glance back at the water. Aside from the fence in the distance, the water’s flat, and calm. “I . . . I don’t know what happened.”

  Ian hesitates. “You fell out of your canoe and almost drowned.”

  He must not have seen anything else. The thought troubles me. Those creatures were so active, and the water was churning so much, he had to have seen something. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “Of course.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “I wasn’t about to let you drown.”

  I ignore my uneasiness as we approach the lighthouse. Paint peels off the sides in long white slivers. Near the bottom, it’s almost worn away, leaving weathered gray bricks exposed to the cool air. Tall weeds and leaves wave lazily in the breeze too close to the structure for a lawnmower to reach. All the windows, including the narrow slits dotting the lighthouse tower itself, are dark, as if covered to keep out the light. From the outside, it doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in years. If Ian hadn’t saved my life, and he still hasn’t explained how that happened, I’d think it was abandoned.

  No one knows you’re here. This guy could do anything he wanted to you, and nobody would know.

  I pause at the bottom of the steps. “Are you sure I can’t walk to camp?”

  Ian doesn’t even look over his shoulder before answering. “You’ll never make it out of these woods on foot.” He pauses, the implied threat burning itself into my mind. “It’s too far to walk. Just use my phone.”

  The old wooden steps creak under my feet. I freeze, one foot hovering mid-air. I can’t believe I’m doing this. No one knows I’m here and now I’m about to follow a stranger into his run-down lighthouse. Do I have any choice, though? Trees surround the clearing and the only way out is a rusty pick-up truck. Even if I did get the keys, it’s probably a stick shift and I can’t drive one of those, anyway.

  Come on. If Ian was a bad guy, he wouldn’t have saved your life. He wants to help you, let him. And, if he does end up attacking you, you can always kick him in the shins.

  “Coming?” Ian holds the door open for me, while irritation flashes across his face.

  “Oh yeah, sorry.” I hurry in under his arm, conscious of the slight hitch in my breath when I brush up against him.

  Unlike the unkempt facade outside, the living space of the lighthouse is clean and shimmering with light. The bright-white ceilings are crisscrossed with dark polished beams. Twinkling Christmas lights coil around them, giving the room a soft, amber glow.

  Crystalline birds suspended by delicate wire swoop through the air. Petals on fragile glass flowers gleam, and three intricate crystalline hummingbirds hover over a bouquet of glass roses on the coffee table across from the couch. Perched on one of the wooden rafters, an enormous glass eagle glares down at me, its deadly curved beak so realistic that I almost expect it to snap open.

  A life-size glass statue of an old man sits hunched over on a wooden tree stump. His eyes glisten in the light, almost as if he’s crying. His translucent beard trails down his chest and between his knees, nearly long enough to touch the floor. On his back rests a pair of semifolded glass wings.

  Cheap linoleum lines the old kitchen floor, and a butcher-block counter holds an assortment of strange metal rods and other tools. Between the living room and the kitchen is what looks like a large metal box with a round hole in the center.

  Ian clears his throat. “The phone’s in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Heat rushes up my cheeks, and I hurry after him.

  He gestures at the old black handset on the wall, and I quickly dial Mom’s number. No answer. She probably has her phone off since she’s still at the café.

  “Nobody’s home?”

  I gulp down the worry nibbling at my insides. “No, I’ll try again in a couple minutes.”

  He eyes my soaking-wet clothes. “Why don’t I get you a towel and some tea while we wait.”

  I pluck at the hem of my wet shirt. “That would be amazing.”

  With a nod, he disappears into another room. He returns, after quickly changing into a dry pair of jeans and a T-shirt, with a couple of fluffy gray towels. “Thanks.” I pat my hair and clothes, trying not to drip any more water on his floor. My hands hover of several scratches on my arms. Are those from the net, or . . . I shudder, remembering those creatures and their long, green fingernails.

  “How’d you find me, anyway?” I ask, rubbing my hair with the towel before handing it back to him.

  “I was out fishing and heard some commotion by the net. Never tho
ught I’d find someone trying to break through.” He shakes his head. “What were you doing out there, anyway?” He spreads the towel out on the back of a chair to dry.

  If I tell him the truth, he’ll think I’m crazy. It doesn’t sound like he saw those creatures; he’d be panicking if he had. “I was looking for something in the water and fell in. There was a hole in the net and I must have swam through.”

  He leans against the counter. “A hole in the net. Is that how you got those scratches?” He gestures to the stinging marks on my arms.

  “You know, branches and stuff like that.” I cover them with my hands, even though he’s already seen them.

  “Uh huh. You should probably get those looked at.”

  A self-deprecating chuckle bursts from my lips. “You got me. I was actually attacked by these weird sea creatures.”

  He doesn’t laugh. “It wouldn’t surprise me. What exactly did you see?”

  “Nothing. I . . . I must have been hallucinating. Lack of oxygen, you know.”

  He folds his arms across his chest. “Try me.”

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath. “You asked for it.” In a rush, I tell him about the strange creatures, how I ended up in the lake, and how I felt them pulling me down into the depths of the water.”

  “Huh,” he muses. “I didn’t see anything when I pulled you out. Its sounds like merrows, and those are a pain in the ass to catch.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it. I don’t have time for this.” He sounds so serious, but that’s impossible. I’ve never heard of these creatures before. Ian must be crazier than I am.

  “What are merrows?”

  “I guess you could call them Irish mermaids. Very rare. Prone to mischief, like most merfolk, but usually harmless.” He is serious. Crap. I’m stuck in a lighthouse with a guy who’s obviously insane.

  “You’re crazy. Mermaids don’t exist.” This must be what happens when a person lives alone for too long. You start hallucinating.

  A throaty laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ve been called worse.”

  I tilt my head, as if that will help me understand him better. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  Ian frowns. “Probably not. I don’t get out much.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not that much older than I am. Don’t you go to school?”

  “No. I was homeschooled.” His voice is short, clipped. “What were you looking for before you fell into the water?”

  I debate whether or not to tell him the truth. What happened with Dad is almost as crazy as seeing mermaids in Lake Huron. But under his piercing gaze, I crumble. “My dad’s missing.” Prompted by his silence, I tell him about my father, the dead reporter, and even the missing keys.

  “So you went canoeing in the lake near a well-documented no-trespassing zone to find a set of keys that may or may not belong to your missing father?”

  I nod. When he puts it that way, I sound about as sane as him.

  “That’s probably not the brightest idea you’ve ever had,” he says, but his voice is sympathetic.

  I scrunch my eyes shut for a moment, desperate to stop the frustrated tears threatening to fall, but in the darkness all I see is that red bobbing key chain. “I had to do something.”

  The shadows that cross his gaze tell me he might know more about those feelings of helplessness and desperation than he’s letting on. Instead of answering, Ian tugs aside the heavy, dark curtain covering the bay window. “Is there anyone else you can call? I don’t mean to cut this short, but I have to repair the hole in the netting as soon as possible. I can’t have those merrows getting too far away.”

  “I could call Phoebe at the camp.” She’ll only kill me in a slightly less violent way than Mom. I don’t have Ezra’s number or I’d call him, instead. My stomach twists at the thought. Ezra must be worried sick. He’s probably gone for help already; I know I would if he were the one who almost drowned.

  “Why don’t I give you a ride? I have to go to my storage unit anyway and get some gear to repair the net. I’ll drop you off on my way.”

  “Okay.” Maybe I can get him to drop me off by the gate so I can sneak around to Ezra’s car. “Wait. Are you going to repair the damage yourself?” He can’t. The merrows, or whatever they are, could get him, too.

  The look he gives me is one I’d give my little sister. “Of course. I’m the only one around who can do it. If the tear is extensive enough to let a human through, then the damage may have been intentional. It needs to be dealt with immediately.”

  “Who would cut a net in the middle of a lake?”

  His lips thin into a grim line. “Someone who wants in.” He slips on a worn pair of tennis shoes and grabs a denim jacket from the coat tree. “And doesn’t want to get caught.”

  His ominous words send a shiver down my spine.

  “Are you coming?” he asks.

  “Yeah, sure, sorry.”

  Ian leads me to a rusty green truck covered in more mud than paint, and he opens the passenger door for me. “My advice is that after you return home, forget this ever happened. No one would believe you, anyway.”

  In my mind, long, slimy fingers and slits of green and gold eyes stare at me. “Yeah, but that might be easier said than done.”

  When we get to camp, Phoebe rushes out of the rec center, a huge smile on her face. Ezra follows close behind.

  Ian parks the truck and opens my door for me.

  “Thanks.”

  Ian nods. “You’re welcome. Now please stay away from my property. I’ll let you know if your mysterious key chain turns up.”

  “I know what I saw,” I retort, embarrassed by the condescension in his voice.

  Oblivious to the tension between Ian and I, Phoebe wraps her arms around me. “Oh, Austen. Thank God you’re all right. We were so worried about you. The police are on their way and your mom’s panicking, and . . .”

  “I’m okay,” I mumble into her shoulder. “Really. Ian was a great help and—” I turn to thank my savior, but he’s already reaching for the door handle to his truck.

  Ezra joins us. Concern wars with embarrassment on his face. I bet he didn’t want to go for help. “I hope you’re not mad at me. I had to find help. I thought you drowned, I—” The words die in his throat when he notices Ian. “What are you doing here?” he growls.

  That’s strange. It’s almost as if Ezra knows Ian. That’s impossible. Ezra’s been gone for ten years.

  “I came to return a lost canoer.” Ian jerks his head toward me. “Somehow she ended up on my side of the barrier.”

  Ezra’s gaze flits over me before returning to Ian. “Yeah, well, she’s back. You can go now.”

  “Ezra!” I touch his arm, but he shakes me off. He’s acting so differently than before. He was so friendly earlier, but now he’s cold and angry. Which is the real Ezra?

  “Sorry,” he mumbles.

  “Don’t worry,” Ian replies. “I’m not staying.”

  Phoebe puts her arms around my shoulders and leads me away. “Just let it go,” she murmurs. “Ezra and Ian don’t exactly get along. They met years ago, when Ezra lived here the first time and it didn’t end well. Now, it’s just old wounds that never really healed.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Ezra’s been gone too long.” The stiff set of their shoulders and the way Ezra’s hands are balled into fists tell me Phoebe’s right. “Do you know what happened?”

  “You’d have to ask them.” Before I demand a better answer, she pastes an exuberant smile on her face. “Now, why don’t you go grab an extra uniform and take a shower before you call your mom.”

  Oh yeah, that. Dread fills my stomach, twisting my insides into knots. “She’s going to kill me.”

  Phoebe’s lips twitch in silent humor. “Probably.”

  As we approach one of the cabins, I crane my head to sneak one last look at the two guys. Ezra throws his hands up in the air and Ian jumps in his truck, guns the engine, and roars away. “Where are Ian’s parents?�
�

  The camp counselor shrugs. “They travel a lot. Ian doesn’t like to, so he stays here most of the time.”

  Thoughts of the strange blue-eyed boy, the creatures I must have hallucinated, and Ezra’s mysterious past stay with me while I shower and dress. After I join Phoebe in the rec center, she hands me a phone.

  “Here. You should call your mom and tell her what happened. I left a message at the diner but haven’t talked to her yet.”

  My stomach sinks. She’s going to be so mad at me. With Dad missing, Mom has enough stress. She doesn’t need me adding to it. “Does she know what happened?”

  Phoebe plops into one of the recliners circling the fireplace. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Your mom’s pretty understanding. Why did you and Ezra take the canoes out anyway? You could have asked, and I would have let you borrow one. You didn’t have to go behind my back.”

  Guilt swamps me at the hurt in her voice. She’s right. As Mom’s best friend, Phoebe’s almost like an aunt to me. I should have asked her if we could use them.

  I chew on my lip as the silence settles between us. Maybe if I tell her the truth, she can keep an eye out for the key chain, too. “Do you remember how I took Molly and Brett swimming?” She nods. “I thought I saw Dad’s keys floating in the water.”

  “Did you tell your mom?” I shake my head. “Why not?”

  “I . . . I wanted to be sure before I told anyone.”

  The heavy doors creak open and Ezra slips inside. He glances at Phoebe and me before leaning against the wall.

  “I convinced Ezra to help me. He had nothing to do with it, honest.”

  Phoebe sighs and presses her fingers to her temples. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  I fight back the stinging sensation behind my eyes. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for what happened. Maybe he was kidnapped. Maybe he thought someone was chasing him. Maybe he . . .”

  Phoebe walks over to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmurs. “It’ll all turn out the way it’s supposed to in the end, I’m sure of it.” She takes a deep breath, pulls away, and considers me for a moment. “Tell you what. Your mother doesn’t need any more stress, right?” I nod. “I’m probably going to regret this, but why don’t we keep what happened today to ourselves, as long as it doesn’t happen again.”