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Authors: Mary Lindsey
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crouched down and touched my hand. “These screaming things and the guys in the water—are they trying to hurt me?”
“The Bean Sidhes are only making noise. The Na Fir Ghorm are dangerous. They derive strength and enjoyment from luring humans to their deaths. As long as you’re aware they’re trying to trick you, you’ll be fine. They prey on emotions. Use your mind . . . and stay away from the water at night.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand. “Thanks . . . really.”
“For what?”
“For what you did out on the jetty . . . for stopping me from, well . . . from whatever. And for not treating me like a nutcase.”
I took another step down. “You are simply ‘outside your comfort zone.’”
Her musical laugh filled my ears as I proceeded down the ladder. Before I got to the bottom, the interior of the lighthouse fell into blackness. She had shut the hatch on her way down.
The sudden plunge into darkness startled me. Adrenaline surged to my extremities in a rush, causing an overall tingling sensation. I backed away from the ladder and felt my way around the wall to the door. When my fingers brushed the cool metal door casing, I reached into my pocket for the key, keenly aware of Anna’s breathing nearby. I fumbled with the key, trying to orient it in my hand so that I could engage the lock—easier said than done with one hand—and dropped it. The clatter of the metal bouncing across the stone floor sounded almost deafeningly loud in the tiny, light-deprived space.
“Uh-oh,” Anna said. She sounded amused rather than alarmed.
I bent down and ran my hand across the stone floor, feeling for it. “I dropped the key. Would you please open the hatch so that we have some light to find it?”
She made no sound. No move to climb the ladder. Nothing.
I turned my head in the direction from which her voice had come. “Anna?” There was a rustle, then light footfalls behind me. “The ladder is the other way,” I said.
“Really?” Her voice sounded on the verge of laughter.
I sat back on my heels and listened in the blackness.
When her fingers touched my arm, I startled and gasped involuntarily.
“Shhh,” she whispered, running her warm hand over my shoulder and down my good arm to my fingers. She must have been on her knees too because she pressed her body against my back as she entwined her slender fingers through mine.
I froze.
Her breath on my neck was hot.
This can’t be happening,
I thought, trembling. Then her warm lips caressed the skin just under my ear, and I was certain my heart would stop.
“Oh, God, Anna.”
She released my fingers and crawled to where she faced me. I couldn’t see her, but I was keenly aware of her location, as if I were a compass needle and she true north. My sense of smell was heightened as w sigh waell as my hearing in the darkness. Her fast breaths and floral scent were intoxicating. I became dizzy as she ran her hands up my chest and around my neck, weaving her fingers into my hair. Her body met mine and her breath caressed my lips, rendering me too stunned to do anything but remain perfectly still, praying the world would stop spinning and suspend me in this unexpected, glorious moment forever.
“Yes?” she whispered almost inaudibly against my lips.
“Yes.”
9
Yet what business had
I
with hope?
—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “The Pit and the Pendulum,” 1842
I was certain I’d walked of my own volition from the lighthouse to the harbor, but I didn’t have any recollection of it. My bliss obliterated all memory and reason. My mind held no thoughts but of Anna, my childhood dream—now my living fantasy. But I knew deep down that was all it was: a fantasy.
Halfheartedly, I restocked canned goods while Anna talked to someone on Francine’s phone. Occasionally, she would grin at me over her shoulder and I’d forget how to breathe.
“Are you going to tell me about it, lad?” Francine asked with a wink, putting another box of
“The Bean Sidhes are only making noise. The Na Fir Ghorm are dangerous. They derive strength and enjoyment from luring humans to their deaths. As long as you’re aware they’re trying to trick you, you’ll be fine. They prey on emotions. Use your mind . . . and stay away from the water at night.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand. “Thanks . . . really.”
“For what?”
“For what you did out on the jetty . . . for stopping me from, well . . . from whatever. And for not treating me like a nutcase.”
I took another step down. “You are simply ‘outside your comfort zone.’”
Her musical laugh filled my ears as I proceeded down the ladder. Before I got to the bottom, the interior of the lighthouse fell into blackness. She had shut the hatch on her way down.
The sudden plunge into darkness startled me. Adrenaline surged to my extremities in a rush, causing an overall tingling sensation. I backed away from the ladder and felt my way around the wall to the door. When my fingers brushed the cool metal door casing, I reached into my pocket for the key, keenly aware of Anna’s breathing nearby. I fumbled with the key, trying to orient it in my hand so that I could engage the lock—easier said than done with one hand—and dropped it. The clatter of the metal bouncing across the stone floor sounded almost deafeningly loud in the tiny, light-deprived space.
“Uh-oh,” Anna said. She sounded amused rather than alarmed.
I bent down and ran my hand across the stone floor, feeling for it. “I dropped the key. Would you please open the hatch so that we have some light to find it?”
She made no sound. No move to climb the ladder. Nothing.
I turned my head in the direction from which her voice had come. “Anna?” There was a rustle, then light footfalls behind me. “The ladder is the other way,” I said.
“Really?” Her voice sounded on the verge of laughter.
I sat back on my heels and listened in the blackness.
When her fingers touched my arm, I startled and gasped involuntarily.
“Shhh,” she whispered, running her warm hand over my shoulder and down my good arm to my fingers. She must have been on her knees too because she pressed her body against my back as she entwined her slender fingers through mine.
I froze.
Her breath on my neck was hot.
This can’t be happening,
I thought, trembling. Then her warm lips caressed the skin just under my ear, and I was certain my heart would stop.
“Oh, God, Anna.”
She released my fingers and crawled to where she faced me. I couldn’t see her, but I was keenly aware of her location, as if I were a compass needle and she true north. My sense of smell was heightened as w sigh waell as my hearing in the darkness. Her fast breaths and floral scent were intoxicating. I became dizzy as she ran her hands up my chest and around my neck, weaving her fingers into my hair. Her body met mine and her breath caressed my lips, rendering me too stunned to do anything but remain perfectly still, praying the world would stop spinning and suspend me in this unexpected, glorious moment forever.
“Yes?” she whispered almost inaudibly against my lips.
“Yes.”
9
Yet what business had
I
with hope?
—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “The Pit and the Pendulum,” 1842
I was certain I’d walked of my own volition from the lighthouse to the harbor, but I didn’t have any recollection of it. My bliss obliterated all memory and reason. My mind held no thoughts but of Anna, my childhood dream—now my living fantasy. But I knew deep down that was all it was: a fantasy.
Halfheartedly, I restocked canned goods while Anna talked to someone on Francine’s phone. Occasionally, she would grin at me over her shoulder and I’d forget how to breathe.
“Are you going to tell me about it, lad?” Francine asked with a wink, putting another box of
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