Ivy
The bedroom lights flick on like usual when I wake up in the morning.
Weird. I look to the lighthouse. No tentacles.
I look to Dolly's pink cottage. No saucer full of blood. Did I dream it? Maybe I fell asleep earlier than I thought. My therapist’s voice nags in the back of my brain, telling me to trust my instincts and what I know.
I know I was awake.
Between everything I’ve seen on this island so far, my cult theory feels more and more plausible. Maybe this is all a theme. Like a Halloween-themed island for tourists. Except Dolly said there were no tourists and no one visited the island. Even the ferryman is a resident. I’d seen him in town.
By the time I’ve gotten dressed and step out the door, I feel all turned around from thinking about it too long.
Which is probably why, just outside of the gate as I step onto the road, I almost run headfirst into someone.
"Oh, sorry I—" I start and then freeze when I look up and find Conall, the man in line behind me at the coffee shop yesterday, standing less than two inches from me. I can literally feel the heat of him through our clothes. He smells of forest and earth after rain. His eyes are a sharp, piercing green. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt that pulls tight over his muscled frame, and a backward baseball cap covers most of his hair, though the loose strands are black and soft.
"What the hell?" I nearly shout. At this point my nerves are fried.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." His voice is deep and sonorous and sends shivers up my spine despite the warm morning.
"Are you stalking me?" I’ve lost all my filters, and I don’t even care. Of all the weird, disturbing, or just plain unexplainable things I’ve seen since coming to this island two days ago, a man stalking me is definitely the most infuriating in how pedestrian its creep factor is. I don't need this.
"I'm walking down the only path to town.
" He gestures up and down the road that winds down from my bluff and around the island towards the woods on the left and towards the town to the right. Despite being here for two days, I hadn’t actually realized it was the only road into town, but now, looking around, I can see that it is.
"Why were you just standing at the roundabout staring into my store yesterday?" I press.
"I was looking for bandages and didn't know if you had any. Thought I could spot them," he explains, voice level and sounding entirely too reasonable.
"From across the street? You thought you could spot them from across the street?" My voice cracks. The stress is definitely getting to me.
"I have very good eyes," he assures me, flashing his green beauties. Then he has the audacity to wink.
I turn and start walking toward town, and he follows.
"And at the café?" It's my last line of defense. I’m sure he’s been stalking me, but after this conversation I can feel that old doubt in myself and my instincts creeping in.
"I needed a coffee."
Simple and likely true.
I stop and turn on him. "And you haven't been lingering outside my home? Near the gate, in the forest?"
He cocks his head and it's meant to read as confused, but there's something behind his eyes. Something unwilling.
I turn away, unable to stomach another lie. He doesn't feel dangerous in a stalker kind of way. He isn't giving off that vibe. If anything, he seems annoyed to have to be around me at all, and I can’t figure out why. Just another mystery on this weird island.
"Is it a theme?" I ask.
Conall’s eyes slant toward me before settling back on the road. "Is what a theme?"
"The island. Is that why everything's so weird? Is there some sort of holiday or creepy theme going on that I don't know about?" A crease forms between his brows.
"I don't know what you mean. It's just an old island."
It's my turn to look at him skeptically. "I don't like when people lie to me and make me feel stupid."
"Then don't ask me questions I can't answer without lying.
" He grits out. I fall a step behind him, thinking about his answer.
There is something going on, but no one will tell me.
Asking is going to get me lies, so I'm not going to ask.
I'm going to observe. For instance, since the sun came out, I can see that Conall’s hair has an underlayer of green beneath the black.
We walk in silence.
"Where do you work?" I ask after a while.
"A little bit here, a little bit there."
My eyes narrow. "That sounds very much like you're without a job and just don't want to say so." The faintest ghost of a smile passes over his lips.
"I'm mostly in private security," he explains.
"Like, a bodyguard?" I come back to walking next to him. He nods, and I'm aware of his gaze on my face. "Who could possibly need a bodyguard on this island?" He shrugs.
The café has a line. It probably has a line every day, being one of the only food places on the island. Conall joins the line with me.
"Hey!"
I turn to find Layla joining us. Her eyes are cole lined and her dark hair is smooth, falling to her mid back. She's wearing jeans and a T-shirt, far more pedestrian than half the others in line. This morning, I've seen robes, wraps, and something that looked like a bikini top.
"Have you thought about game night?" Layla asks. Friday is still a few days away, but she clearly wants to know. I have no excuse under the sun.
"Yeah. I'll be there." I turn to Conall, who's pointedly studying the overhead chalkboard.
"Are you coming to game night at Layla's?
" I ask, mostly to bug him. He doesn't exactly seem like a cocktails-and-games kind of guy.
But to my surprise, and from the look on her face, Layla is too, he smiles a wolfish grin that shows all of his white teeth.
"I'd love to," he replies. I want to sink through the floor.
"I didn't—" I look to Layla, who seems just as perplexed. "It's not my house. I was just—" Floundering socially feels far more familiar than anything else I've experienced here.
"Of course. We'd love to have you, Conall. It's so rare you make an appearance at these things. I wonder what's changed." Layla glances between us with one raised eyebrow. I widen my eyes and shake my head. Conall pinches the bridge of his nose. Layla does not seem deterred.
"Morning." A bright voice cuts across the tension. Dolly joins us in a light babydoll dress with big pink flowers on it. "Conall, aren't you supposed to be watching from—"
"Dolly," Conall cuts across whatever she was about to say. "I was just getting a coffee and ran into Ivy on the main road."
Dolly nods and winks with absolutely no subtlety. I'm so sick of all of this cryptic bullshit. I glance at Layla, clearly the most reasonable of the bunch, but she only cringes in apology.
Whatever.
When we reach the front, the woman behind the counter greets Layla and Dolly warmly. She's tall and curvy. Her light yellow dress is as light and bright as her store against her dark brown skin.
"Ada, this is Ivy. She's new to the island. She's coming for game night." Ada gives me a short once-over.
"Do you play euchre?" she asks, and I can't help a small laugh.
"I live in Michigan, so yeah."
Ada smiles and hands coffees to Layla, Dolly, and Conall, then one to me.
"Thank you. But I didn't order yet." I examine the to-go cup in my hand. Ada's eyes flick to Layla's, which flick to Conall's. Dolly sips her drink and examines a spider on the windowsill.
"You were in yesterday, though. Sean, my barista that day, told me your order." I take a sip. Chai tea latte with extra cinnamon. My favorite drink. Definitely not what I ordered yesterday.
"Thank you," I say, because people around the café have started staring at me again, surreptitiously behind newspapers and cups and books.
I follow Conall out the door while Layla drags Dolly behind us.
"Have a good day. I hope Amy's not being too hard on you," Layla says as she turns toward her bookshop, library, whatever it is.
"Why would she be hard on me?" Layla turns back, ducks her head and fiddles with her keys.
"Oh, just because, well, she thought Ursula would leave the business to her. After how long she spent working alongside her." My stomach drops. Of course. She’d been expecting the store, and then some stranger who’d never even met her former boss came waltzing in owning the place.
I'd be furious too. I feel bad. Not bad enough to give her the store. I still don’t have anywhere else to go.
Dolly heads up the street toward the roundabout where the statue stands. Or rather sits, back in the thinker's pose.
I can see Amy in the window of Shipton's, straightening inventory and dusting shelves.
"Fuck," I breathe.
"She doesn't hate you." Conall's voice behind me makes me jump. I'd forgotten he was there.
"What?" I turn to him.
His eyes are already on me and have been, I realize, probably since before I turned. Watching with wary eyes and a tight jaw.
He lets out a breath. "I don't think Amy blames you."
"Yeah, but I took something she thought she was getting. It doesn't really matter if she blames me personally, does it."
He shakes his head. "She’s mad, but she’ll get over it. She doesn't hold grudges like that."
I nod and start to turn but can't quite stop myself from turning back.
"Are you and she…" I let it hang there, but his expression goes rigid and unreadable. "Sorry, it's not my business."
"No." His voice catches me just before I turn away. "This whole island's a bit too connected." I nod. "Have a good day, Ivy." He makes his way to a bench at the roundabout, plants himself there, looks my way, and winks.
It should feel sleazy or threatening. He's clearly watching me. But I just don't get those vibes from him. Though, I didn't get those vibes from my ex either. So my vibe meter can go to hell.