Page 46 of The Lighthouse Keeper

Rafe took a step away from her. “I’m fine.”

“Where is it?” I asked. “Where is the Ferox Cor?”

He turned in my direction. “Not where, but who.”

“Whois the Ferox Cor?” I rephrased my question to make sure I understood him right.

“Who.” Ignoring his mother’s sputter of protest, Rafe continued. “The Ferox Cor is a powerful earth spirit, a demon, really. Years ago, someone bound demon and amulet together. With no one holding the amulet, Martin’s death has set the demon free.”

I asked the obvious question. “Where’s the amulet?”

Rafe and his mother shared a long look, one that spoke of a lifetime spent as allies against some great evil.

“We don’t know,” Rafe said finally. “Martin hid it before he died.”

Chapter Fifteen

So we had at least one answer. Rafe’s power was his own, not fueled by evil magic. After the others had retired, I stayed at the kitchen table. I brought out my pipe and filled the bowl with tobacco. Despite my efforts at rationing, the packet was on the light side; I’d need to buy more soon. Della had left lit candles in every corner of the room, promising they’d hold back the Cor, and I used one to light the pipe.

I had doubts about many things. The three of them, Della, Rafe, and Martin, had lived on this tiny bit of land that jutted out into the ocean – the distinction between Sound and Ocean was lost on me – for over twenty years. That didn’t seem possible. Rafe had said he only attended school for a few years, yet he spoke like a man with an education. I went to Harvard, so I knew what that meant.

How had he learned? There weren’t piles of books around the house, and Rafe likely couldn’t have read them if there were. It didn’t make sense.

Madam Munro’s notes made it seem as if Martin Gallagher had stolen the Ferox Cor for personal gain, but I failed to see the gain in a tiny house some two or three hours by boat from civilization. There was no electricity here, no gaslights, no plumbing. We lit the rooms with oil lamps and witchlights, pumped water from a well, and cooked over wood or coal. If Martin had wanted riches and power, he’d missed the mark.

Della’s claim that whoever held the amulet controlled the Cor made sense. If Martin had intended to keep people safe from the Cor’s evil, an isolated bit of land would be better than a house in town. I’d come here believing Martin was the villain in this story. Maybe I was wrong.

Either way, I was inordinately relieved that Rafe didn’t hold the amulet and therefore control the Cor.

When the clock approached midnight, I was still awake. I tucked my pocket watch away, debating whether to sacrifice more tobacco to my peace of mind. In the end, I gave in to my sense of restlessness and went in search of Rafe.

He wasn’t in his workroom, nor was he in the tower. That had me curious and a little concerned. Unsure where he might have gone, I debated my next move.

Broadening my search meant leaving Margaret and Della unguarded. Realistically, though, I’d be little help if the Ferox Cor attempted to possess either one of them. I’d be an alarm bell, screaming for Rafe to come.

Though Rafe wouldn’t hear me if he wasn’t close by.

That decided me. I’d try to find him, though I had no intention of wandering through the forest at night. Just being outside was idiotic enough. I’d never seen the hawk at night, but then I’d never looked for it. If Rafe had gone into the forest, however, I might hear him. With that in mind, I stifled my common sense and headed for the place where forest and ocean met. The air felt heavy, as if someone lurked in the darkness, watching.

The steady pulse of light from the tower should have reassured me. The waves kept up their own rhythm, drawing away from the shore only to surge ahead. There was no fog, so the horn was silent, though clouds obscured the moon.

At the edge of the forest, I turned north to follow the bluff. My nerves were taught, every bit of my attention listening for Rafe, or worse, a hawk’s flapping wings. The trees were little more than a black shadow, so dark I couldn’t imagine that anyone would willingly walk into it.

Anyone except a man with otherworldly vision.

Something rustled through the underbrush, some small animal making its escape from the heavy-footed human.I hope. Tension wrapped around my chest like a steel band, and though I kept going, it grew harder and harder to breathe.

Another rustle, this one closer. “Is someone there?” My voice quavered and I cleared my throat. “Rafe?”

Nothing. No one. Not silence, exactly. A soft rustle. A snap, as if something or someone had stepped on a twig.

I walked faster. I should go back to the house. Rafe was probably there waiting for me. An owl’s throaty hoot made me jump.What am I doing?This was pointless. A rush of feathers, swooping so close the draft ruffled my hair.

“Rafe?” I called out one last time before my courage failed. I’d reached the entrance to the one trail I knew. If Rafe wasn’t here, then he was on his own.

He did not respond, and though it might brand me a coward, I turned to go.

A man stood between me and the building. With only a little moonlight penetrating the clouds, I could only make out a silhouette, enough to see it wasn’t Rafe. This person was only as tall as me, but broader. Or maybe he was poorly defined because he was a creature of shadow.

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