Chapter 3
“This one’s for you, Lou, you old bastard.” I pour some whiskey over the rock beside me, then take a swig myself. “Hope there’s good fishing wherever you are.”
I’ve used clip-on strike alarms before, but Lou would have sneered at those fancy new-fangled gadgets, so I didn’t bring them tonight.
Just me and the line. Got my box and my tackle organized the way he taught me, and there’s chicken liver on the hook—his favorite bait.
I’ve got a bucket of bigger baits, too, in case the cats don’t go for the livers.
The bait should be sunk deep by now, good and soaked.
I reach over and check my flashlight, propped on a ridge of the rock.
When a catfish takes the bait, I’ll switch it on so I can see what I’m doing.
Until then, my only light comes from the stars and the moon.
It’s a clear enough night, just a few ragged clouds.
I almost mixed myself a Bay Luck coffee tonight to give myself a better shot at a really big catch. But it felt like cheating.
A chill runs over my skin, raising goosebumps. It wasn’t the breeze. There’s almost no wind, and thanks to my jacket, I’m not cold. I’m unsettled. An alarm rings somewhere in my soul, but I can’t figure out why, so I ignore it and stay put.
Something stirs the surface of the water.
My line doesn’t twitch. Whatever’s moving in the water is off to my left. There’s a soft chuff, almost like breath. Like the snort of an animal, but not on the land. This thing is in the pond.
Moonlight highlights two pointy things. Fins? No… ears. And below them, a pair of blue eyes. They look like they’re glowing, but I think it’s just a reflective trick of the moon.
I switch on the flashlight and angle it toward that spot. The beam blazes across the water, revealing a long, slender, black head with two big nostrils, vivid blue eyes shaded by thick lashes, and a pair of pricked ears with finned edges.
Looks like the head of a horse. In the water.
Could be one of the horses from that woman’s riding stable. But we’re a good two hours’ drive from there. I left Crescent Cove right after I closed up the diner and I drove straight to Uncle Lou’s favorite spot. It’s not likely that a horse from Spyglass Stables got out and strayed this far.
Could be somebody else’s horse, or maybe a wild horse. Though I’ve never seen any wild horse with ears like that.
Moving slowly so as not to spook the animal, I stick my rod into the holder and get to my feet.
“Hey there, beautiful.” I keep my voice low and steady. The horse’s ears prick forward, listening. “What are you doing out here? Need some help? Are you swimming, or are you stuck?”
The horse’s head lifts higher, rising on a graceful, muscular neck. Water streams from its black forelock, running in rivulets around its right eye.
Another chill courses over my body. It’s just the effect of the moon and the darkness and the unexpected horse in the pond.
Horses aren’t dangerous. Well, I suppose they can be, if people are stupid enough to antagonize them and not pay attention to warning signs.
This horse doesn’t seem scared or angry, though.
No rolling eyes or pinned ears. Not that I’m any kind of expert.
“Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you out of there.
” I scan the edge of the pond and spot a sloped, pebbled area.
“That looks like a good place where you can climb out.” I move in that direction, hands outstretched to the horse.
“Work with me here, okay? I don’t have all night, and you’re scaring away the fish. ”
The horse snorts and its ears twitch backward for a second before pointing forward again.
I plant my feet wide on the pebbled slope and beckon. “Come here. Come to me, baby.”
The horse rises higher in the water. It’s swimming toward me.
Another chill lifts the hair on the back of my neck.
This thing is big. Biggest damn horse I’ve ever seen.
When its hooves hit the slant of the ground beneath the water and it starts to emerge from the pond, it’s all I can do not to back away as more and more of its body is revealed.
“You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” I lean to the side, checking. “Yup, a girl. Look at you, all legs and muscles.”
She’s enormous, with slender legs, a graceful neck, and a wavy mane and tail so long they nearly brush the ground. Rivulets of sparkling water stream from her hair and coat.
Horses were never my thing. I’m more of a woods guy than a ranch guy. But right now, I get why that beautiful angry woman works with horses. This one is gorgeous, and there’s something intelligent and purposeful in the way she moves.
“Good job,” I tell her. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Now you’re on dry land, and I can go back to fishing.”
But fishing doesn’t seem so exciting right now. I think I want to pet the horse.
I can’t help chuckling at my own thoughts. I sound like a nine-year-old girl. But if Lou’s sudden death taught me anything, it’s that I should do stuff that I enjoy while I still can.
Taking a step toward the horse, I stretch out my hand, palm open.
She lifts her head, arches her neck. Tosses that beautiful mane, sending a shower of drops into the moonlit air. And then her lips writhe back, exposing rows of long, glittering, knife-sharp teeth.
No horse I’ve ever seen has had two rows of pointed teeth, like some kind of equine vampire.
The horse is a supernatural. We’re too close to Crescent Cove for her to be anything else. And we’re not on town property, so this creature, whoever she is, isn’t bound by the town’s laws.
Mentally I run through the lore I know—not enough, apparently, because I can’t think of any horse-creatures. Shape-shifters are pretty common in town, but along the coast, they’re mostly selkies, mer-people, shark shifters, that kind of thing.
Something nags at the back of my mind—a memory, a story—but I can’t recall it because the horse takes a menacing step toward me, opening her jaws wide. A rippling groan issues from her throat, and she clashes her teeth together, a threatening snap.
“Hey.” I speak sharply, firmly. “Settle down.”
She growls, unmistakable hunger in the sound. A long, purple, pointed tongue traces the shiny white surface of her teeth. That’s another difference from regular horses—their teeth are not only flat and squarish, but yellow, too. This horse’s fangs are unnaturally bright.
“I should probably run, yeah?” I ask her conversationally. “But see, that fishing rod over there is pretty important to me. I don’t want to leave it here. Of course I don’t want to die, either. Hey, I’ve got a bucketful of bait. You want to snack on that? Call it even?”
She snorts and tosses her head, prowling closer as I back away. She’s practically salivating for my flesh, but she’s waiting.
She wants me to run. Like any predator, she likes the chase.
I plant my feet and cross my arms. My heart is doing a drum solo in my chest, but I stay put, jaw tight, resolute.
“I’m not giving you the satisfaction of chasing me. You’re gonna have to bite off my head right here. Not as much fun, huh?”
The mare snarls, a sound more appropriate for a panther than a horse. Her bared teeth approach my face. Her breath isn’t foul or hot—it smells like the pond, cool and faintly fishy, with hints of aquatic plants.
I force myself to stare at that long, elegant face, right into those unearthly eyes.
A few seconds later, she lowers her muzzle, bumping it against my upper chest. Her nostrils flare against the flannel of my shirt, and her eyes widen, showing glossy whites.
Slowly I lift one hand and place my palm against her cheek. She shudders and lifts her head, stamping one forefoot. Then she brings her nose down to my chest again, inhaling my scent.
I stroke the wet velvet of her cheek, and this time she doesn’t pull away. Her teeth stay bared, and she starts nudging harder against my chest, pushing me backward, like she’s about to start gnawing through my breastbone down to my heart.
My back hits a tree trunk.
She’s nibbling at my shirt, snagging and tearing it with those sharp teeth. Her fangs nick my skin, and she licks the blood. Her huge body trembles, and an eager moan reverberates through every inch of her.
Yeah, I’m going to die.
“Okay,” I say gently, taking her face in both hands. “Okay. It’s not a bad way to go, I guess. Can you make it quick though? They say my uncle didn’t feel a thing. I’d rather not feel too much.”
She sinks the tips of her fangs into my left pec.
It fucking hurts, but I don’t move. I pet her nose, taking pride in the fact that my fingers aren’t shaking.
“Damn, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you? You’re just starving.
It’s okay, beautiful. Better me than someone else. I got no one who’ll miss me.”
The horse stops and pulls back, her teeth leaving my flesh, her eyes boring into mine.
She takes a step back, like she’s rethinking her choices. Then she shakes her head violently and her mane ripples, throwing off more sparkling drops.
She retreats another step. It’s difficult for her, but she’s forcing herself to back off.
Hooves hammer against the forest ground, and a second horse bursts out of the trees to my right. This one has sharp teeth, too, and its eyes glow rosy red. Streaks of luminous scarlet decorate its mane and tail. Its jaws gape wide, saliva flying from glittering fangs.
It’s aiming for my throat.
The first horse intercepts the newcomer—plunges forward and slams her shoulder against the second horse, knocking it aside.
“Yup,” I mutter. “Time to go.”