Page 56 of Lost in the Dark

“Toward the lake.” I point out the door and she takes off running, so I follow her.

There’s still enough dusky light that we can see Evan as he dashes into the water, getting slower as it reaches his knees.

“Why did he run into the water? And not back to his car?” Libra asks.

I shrug. He was probably too scared to think straight. I tend to have that effect on humans, especially when I make an effort.

As we watch, the water reaches Evan’s chest and he starts to paddle. There’s a floating dock a little ways out, presumably for diving and sunbathing, and I think he must be heading for it, though who knows what he’ll do when he gets there.

“Listen,” Libra says.

Along with the sound of Evan’s splashing, there had been various evening noises: frogs croaking, crickets chirping, critters scratching along the forest floor, digging through fallen leaves.

But now everything is silent, except for Evan in the water.

He stops swimming and looks around, then stares downward, at something submerged that we can’t see. Out of nowhere, he lets out a bloodcurdling yell before his head vanishes below the water. It is not the motion of someone sinking. It’s the motion of someone being pulled.

“What the fuck?” Libra says.

I stare at the spot where he went under, just as his head briefly pops up again. He screams, then is dragged back under. Libra takes an instinctive step back as we watch the mad splashing caused by Evan’s underwater thrashes.

And then, ominously, everything goes silent and still.

The ripples in the water gradually dissipate.

The frogs and crickets restart their songs.

Evan does not reappear.

“What the hell just happened?” Libra whispers.

I shake my head. I have no idea.

“He didn’t just spontaneously drown, did he?” She leans forwards and squints, as if that might help her discern Evan’s whereabouts. But it’s futile and we both know it; whatever happened, one thing is certain: Evan isn’t coming back up.

“You need ice for that eye. We should go back inside,” I say, putting a steadying arm around her shoulder. I’m surprised when she doesn’t shrug it away.

“You’re right. I need to call the police and tell them what just happened.” She glances at me and seems to notice my injury for the first time. “Oh, my god! He shot you. We need to clean the wound.”

I nod. “I’ll be fine. Come on.”

I lead her inside and she seems to move on autopilot, calling the authorities for help. While we wait, I tend to her, icing her bruised eye and battered knuckles. I finally examine the designs she has on her fingers: they’re delicate tattoos of stars, moons, and constellations.

I place a hand under her chin and tip it up until she looks at me. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” I say.

Her brown eyes go wide. “For what?”

“For everything. For hurting you. For using you, if that’s what I did. It was never my intention—I thought we were both getting what we wanted out of it. But I don’t think I took your feelings into consideration the way I should have. The way you needed me to. I’m not used to that, you know. You’re the only human I’ve ever cared about.”

“Right. Because I’m a siren.”

“No.” I shake my head firmly. “I’ve told you before that it has nothing to do with that. It’s because you’re you. You’re strong and resilient and creative. You’re kind and beautiful. You faced your biggest fear and won, twice. You have interesting dreams and somehow aren’t afraid of me, the monster who almost took over your life. I don’t care about your lineage. I only care about you: Libra Cartwright.”

Two Weeks Later

Libra

After two days, Evan’s body was found floating in the lake, pretty far from where he went in. The official cause of death is accidental drowning, and the police have closed the case on it. But I know what I saw—something pulled him under and killed him. It was no accident. For me, it definitely lends credence to the rumors that the lake is haunted, because there sure as hell is something scary in that water.

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