Night Tide

by Kory M. Shrum

  After a few feet, she returned and grudgingly picked up the knife again. Obviously displeased with its performance. She looked ready to throw it into the ocean.

  Performance, she repeated in her mind. Maybe it wasn’t a knife then, but an athame, a ceremonial tool for magic. Reese could certainly feel the magic still dancing along her skin, though now it seemed to be dissipating. The storm overhead was quieting, too. The wind eased its assault on her hair and ears. The woman was halfway up the dune, sand shifting under her boots. Had she caused the storm? The surge in magic? What the hell had just happened?

  What was Reese going to do about it?

  Reese ran as fast as she could down the beach. She was faster than a human, given her shifter status so she managed to make it back to her pile of clothes and up the steep sandy slope in moments.

  She was still naked when she ran across the street toward her red pickup. She’d only just thrown the door shut when twin taillights sparked to life in front of her. A car parked several meters away, farther up Canyon Road hooked a U-turn on the road. Its engine revved as it sped back toward town. Reese ducked down, pressing her face to her warm fabric seats as the car passed.

  She waited a few breaths and inched up just enough to check her side mirror. The car was speeding away. The coast was clear.

  Once the taillights were small enough that she thought she could also turn around and not get caught, she keyed the ignition and threw the truck into drive. She U-turned in the middle of Canyon Road. Her tires spit rock and sand along the pavement as she wrenched her wheel left then right.

  She dressed as she drove, getting her bra and shirt down over her head first. She pulled her wet hair out of her shirt and let it fall down her back, knowing it would have to be washed and detangled later and what a job that would be.

  The pants were harder to get on. She managed only to get one leg inside them before giving up.

  Reese kept the taillights in her line of sight, but didn’t get too close to the car. Again, she didn’t want the woman to realize she was being followed. As they passed Vendetta Heights, Reese vaguely noted the cluster of cars parked in the wild, open fields. No one would dare go into the Western Woods that bordered the Heights, but the Heights themselves were free game for vampires who wanted to hook-up with vamp-loving humans.

  The field-turned-parking lot looked like any other make-out spot for teens. Laughter rippled through her open window as she passed and also caught the metallic tang of blood. And sex.

  Reese slammed on her brakes and downshifted as a woman stepped off the shoulder into her headlights. She disappeared before the red pickup could connect with her.

  Reese sat in the middle of the road, heart rabbiting in her throat.

  “Fucking ghosts.” Reese shifted her truck back into first gear. “Fucking ghosts.”

  She stepped on the gas again, rushing to recover some of the lost distance.

  The car up ahead had stopped at the four-way and turned left, creeping slowly into the adjacent parking lot.

  “Damn,” Reese said, knowing where the woman was headed.

  Reese gave her a wide berth before pulling into the gravel lot herself.

  She looked at the old-timey saloon sitting in front of her.

  The Crossroads.

  A demon bar posted at the last four-way stop out of town. Patroned almost entirely by demons, shifters and humans only went into the bar if they had business. Like soul-selling business.

  Reese hadn’t detected any demonic energy at all from the woman as she’d watched her calling down her magic from the ocean and sky. So was the woman a human or a witch? Maybe she’d made some deal with a demon for a certain power and was pissed that all it had gotten her was a stormy sky?

  Surely she wouldn’t like it when she found out there was a no-returns policy on souls...

  The dark wave music seeping out into the night didn’t match the look of the bar. It really did look like a saloon straight out of an old western. The wooden porch. The windows with worn shutters. Those windows looked possessed themselves, like twin glowing eyes watching Reese contemplate her next move in the solemn darkness of her truck.

  There were half a dozen cars and three motorcycles in the lot.

  She weighed her options.

  Reese could hold her own in a fight, but demons never played fair. Besides, she just wanted to know what that woman was up to. It was up to the long-time residents of Castle Cove—people like Reese, Kristine, Cole—to keep their eyes open for trouble like this.

  “I could pretend to be looking for Cole,” she murmured to herself. Cole was a demon but also her friend and neighbor. Maybe no one would question why she came to a demon bar looking for her demon friend then. “I can just peek in there and see what she’s up to.”

  Realizing the only person she was trying to convince was herself, she gripped the steering wheel.

  Her bare butt stuck to her seat, reminding her that she still needed to finish pulling up her pants. She did and slid out of her truck. Gravel shifted under her boots as she shut and locked her door. She ran a hand through her wet hair and pulled her shoulders back. She did what she could to mask her scent, knowing it would betray her uneasiness.

  Pushing against the rough, bat-wing door, Reese stepped into the bar.

  Grayson

  He stood on the beach and stared out at the moonlit horizon. White light shone on the iridescent waves. The salt stung his nose and the wind rolling off glowing crests pulled tears from his eyes.

  Someone laughed farther up the beach. He turned and saw Landon and Abigail trying to get the bonfire going. They were bent over the kindling. Abby’s lighter sparked, once, twice in the dark. Both times it revealed their faces hard with concentration.

  “Birthday boy!” Landon yelled. “Get your ass over here and help us.”

  Grayson’s bare feet sank deeper in the cool sand with each step. It squished up between his toes as the sea sprayed water onto his bare calves.

  “I thought the point of having a birthday was so people would do things for me,” he said. But he extended his open palm toward Abby.

  She handed the lighter over too willingly. “You’re better at this shit than the rest of us. Weren’t you a wood scout for six years or something?”

  “Or something,” he said. Eight years was more like it. He struck the lighter and caught the soft brush on the first try. They’d been trying to burn the sticks themselves, not the soft nest he’d made for them out of dry grass and kindling. That was where they’d gone wrong.

  “I can’t believe your parents let you go into the Western Woods as a kid,” Landon said, dragging his hand under this nose. He sniffed. “My parents still forbid me from going in there.”

  “There’s a big difference between the Western Woods and the Wayward Woods.” Grayson fanned the sparks. “Even scouts don’t go in the Western Woods.”

  In truth, the entire forest spanning Castle Cove County was called the Wayward Woods. But there was a clear distinction to all who knew better.

  “Here we go,” Abby said with a teasing smile. He elbowed Landon in the ribs. “We’re about to get a lesson from Professor Richt.”

  Landon snorted, settling down onto the sand beside her. The fire grew, illuminating both their faces with the warm orange glow.

  Grayson affected a prim English accent and smoked an invisible pipe for comedic effect. “Yes, children, well, it is all about the territory line. If you go west of the territory line you will find yourself in the Western Woods. If you stay east of the territory line, and I highly suggest that you always stay east of the territory line, then you remain in the Wayward Woods. During the right times, and with the right company, the Wayward Woods are safe enough. You can’t be foolish out there, but you’ll likely be all right. However!” He pointed his finger into the air. “Under no circumstances should anyone cross the territory line into the Western Woods. Do you understand, children?”

  “Yes, Professor Richt,” they both c
himed. They always loved his impressions of their junior year history teacher. All Grayson was missing was a shock of wild gray hair and a mustache Mark Twain would be proud of.

  “There are creatures in those woods. Old, ancient and hungry creatures. They will devour you alive. Or drag you screaming to their lairs, where they will eat you. Slowly.”

  Landon shivered.

  Then all three laughed.

  Grayson dropped the act and sank down onto the sand beside them.

  It was true he’d spent his summers scouting the Wayward Woods. He learned more about the flora and fauna of those woods than he thought possible. More about the seasons and cycles of the earth and what it meant to work in harmony with the land. But this education wasn’t the result of generous parents. Rather, they fully understood the dangers of living in a place like Castle Cove and they wanted their children well-equipped against any danger that might arise.

  We can’t always be there to protect you, they’d said as they kissed his cheeks and sent him off into the woods. The people who get hurt are the people who aren’t prepared or who don’t understand what is going on around them. We want to raise you strong, Grayson.

  Grayson knew that most parents kept their kids out of the darkest corners of Castle Cove. Abigail’s mom hadn’t even let her outside after sunset until she was sixteen. Landon’s parents still never let him go anywhere alone without at least two or three friends in tow.

  By comparison, Grayson’s parents must seem like free-range hippies.

  Maybe it was because both of his parents were from Los Angeles. To them, anywhere in the world could be dangerous. It didn’t matter if it was drugs or violence in LA or monsters in Castle Cove. Living required intelligent precautions.

  Grayson watched the flames dance on the pyre, the wood crackling. His mind wandered. Eighteen. Tonight he was eighteen and he had to decide what he would do next.

  He’d told UCLA that he would attend in the fall. He spoke of his love of nature in his admissions essay and was granted a scholarship to their conservation program. However, he also had an open invitation at Castle Cove University where his mother taught folklore.

  Two paths were laid out before him. Two worlds offered him a place.

  He had to decide which road he wanted to take.

  His family had moved to Castle Cove when he was eight. He’d been in this town for ten years. He could stay here, and keep living this extraordinary life full of mystery and surprise, a life where unimaginable creatures and magic were very real. Or, he could leave and see what it was like to live in the outside world, a world he barely remembered.

  Abigail pressed the bottom of her foot against his. The sand rubbed between their toes. “You trying to think of a way out of this? Because you’re going in the water, birthday boy.”

  Grayson smiled. “I was thinking about school.”

  “You excited about UCLA?” Landon asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ll miss you,” Abby added. She’d pulled her bottom lip into her mouth when she said it. The look in her firelit eyes made Grayson’s heart hitch. She wasn’t supposed to look at him like that. Not with her boyfriend sitting beside her. But it was also the way she worked her lower lip. It was her I have something to tell you face, and yet she wasn’t speaking.

  Grayson managed a smile. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

  “Doubt it,” she said, looking out over the dark water.

  “You’ll be busy at CCU,” he said. “Engineering is a rigorous program.”

  She shrugged, trying for nonchalance. But Grayson saw the tightness in her shoulders.

  Landon put an arm around her. “You’ll rock it, babe. Your brain is bigger than my stomach which we all know is enormous.”

  It was true. He might be rail thin, but Landon ate enough for four grown men.

  “And I’ve got that internship with your dad this summer,” Abigail said. She was looking at Grayson, searching his face as if hoping to see something there. “He’s going to teach me to calibrate the machines in the lab.”

  “I think he’s more excited than you are.” Grayson was careful to keep his smile neutral. Perhaps if Landon wasn’t sitting so close to him, he would’ve dared a real smile. “When do you start?”

  “In three weeks,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Will you be working there too?”

  “Maybe.”

  Grayson hadn’t missed the subtle advances she’d made in the last few months. The three of them had been friends since middle school. They had classes together, ate lunch together, and hung out together after school and on the weekends when Grayson didn’t have scouts. When Abigail and Landon started dating in tenth grade, he hadn’t been jealous.

  But now...

  In the fall, she’d joined the yearbook and school mag, The Circuit, which Grayson had worked on since his freshman year. His love of photography was second only to his love of nature. He knew Abigail didn’t care about either. At first he didn’t understand why she’d want to spend an extra two hours after school every day, until he started to notice the look.

  Then she tried out for and made the crew team during winter. She took—surprisingly, position seven, which had been vacated by a graduating senior the year before. By doing so, she’d become his able lieutenant to his position, stroke.

  He’d known she was a good swimmer, and she’d always come to watch his team compete in the May races. But it was still clear why she was really there.

  The only problem was Landon.

  He loved Abigail even more than he loved food and had since fourth grade. If she dumped him for his best friend—for Grayson—no.

  Just no.

  Grayson knew it wasn’t worth it. Even if Abigail was beautiful and smart and brave and—

  Abigail stood up from the fire and pulled her shirt over her head. Firelight danced across her bare breasts.

  “Come on, birthday boy” she said, meeting his eyes.

  Grayson did his best to keep his gaze fixed on hers.

  Don’t look down, he thought. Don’t...

  But her lips had already quirked into a smile. She knew she’d won. “You’re not getting any younger.”

  “This is going to be cold,” Landon whined. He stood and shrugged off his shirt.

  He slid out of his shorts and stood in boxers. He offered a hand to help Grayson to his feet. Grayson was reluctant to leave the warm fire, but Abigail was right.

  Castle Cove teens had a rite of passage.

  On their eighteenth birthday, they came down to Hunter’s Beach and swam the 800 feet from the shore to Heart’s Rock. If they chickened out, there was Coward’s Clutch, a small rock off to the left, a mere 350 feet from shore.

  But the goal was to swim to Heart’s Rock under the mournful gaze of the full moon. Doing so would ensure that Castle Cove would always be your home. You could leave town and never worry that it would disappear on you, as it was wont to do for outsiders.

  It just so happened that Grayson’s eighteen birthday was a full moon.

  It wasn’t the swim itself.

  It wasn’t the sharks, or jellyfish, or even drowning that he worried him. It wasn’t the idea of floating out there in the dark waves alone—because Abigail and Landon had both wanted to come with him. That was their tradition.

  Landon was the first one to turn eighteen last October. After standing on the shore for fifteen minutes, it was clear he’d been afraid to get in the water. So they’d each taken one of his hands and pulled him in. Then the three of them swam to Heart’s Rock together.

  He had wanted to take the detour to Coward’s Clutch, but they’d urged him on, staying beside him until he’d reached Heart’s Rock.

  When Abigail turned eighteen in April, they’d done the swim again. Abby hadn’t been afraid, but they’d entered the water with her anyway.

  Now it was June and Grayson’s turn. The waters would be warm and the swim pleasant.

  So why was his throat t
hick with fear?

  In a word: sirens.

  Abigail seemed to read his face as she stood naked in the surf. “They don’t come into the cove. They might come onto the rock, but that’s when we jump off. No problem.”

  That’s what they had done on Abigail’s birthday. A male siren had come onto the rock and sang to her until Landon got his fingers into her ears and pulled her back into the water.

  Grayson kept his eyes on hers, but was hyperaware of her bare breasts glowing in the moonlight.

  Landon wasn’t even trying to hide his gaze.

  “Babe, real talk.” Landon cracked his neck to one side. “Are you going to be pissed if I fuck a mermaid?”

  “Are you going to be pissed if I fuck a merman?” she retorted.

  Landon frowned.

  “Sirens just want love too.” Grayson tried to break up the tension forming between them.

  Abigail snorted and walked out into the water. She beckoned Grayson forward. “You first birthday boy. This is your party.”

  It was true that they were likely safe. This inlet was supposed to be off-limits. It was supposed to be safe. But sirens did come to the beach and there was a real danger of being raped or drowned by them.

  Abigail was staring at him. He looked down, and saw the blade.

  “Why do you always bring that?” she asked him. “This is the third time we’ve done this swim. Nothing happens.”

  He looked at the six-inch blade strapped to his left forearm. He could see how it seemed paranoid. They’d completed the first two birthday swims with no need of a weapon. However, just because they hadn’t run into trouble before didn’t mean they wouldn’t find some tonight.

  “Better safe than sorry,” he said, and stepped through the first wave. Cool water slapped his torso and he bent over protectively as if that would spare him.

  “It’s June,” Landon whimpered, wading into the surf after him. “I thought it’d be warmer.”

  Once it rose above Grayson’s thighs, he dove in.

  He found a rhythm quickly. His freestyle crawl helped him stay on top of the waves as they buoyed and dropped him.