“They were going on Parker’s yacht. Perhaps they’re still at sea.”
“Let’s go down to the bay, then.”
Aranare’s entire body was tense as we jumped back into his truck, and I could sense his unshielded emotions: a mixture of concern and boiling fury.
The Range Rover’s engine rumbled to life, its splutter matching my anxious heartbeat, and we drove in silence across the grassy clifftop and down through Bayside to the docks. My eyes swept the moored boats as Aranare eased the truck into park.
The afternoon had darkened, and gray clouds drifted overhead as we jumped from the car and raced to the concrete boardwalk, where themoored boats drifted. My stomach turned.Parker’sWet Lasswas docked, its chrome railings bobbing with the rising swell.
“Come on,” I said, racing down the stone steps to the granite sand, Aranare on my heels.
He’d been silent since we left Parker’s, his face drawn and a muscle ticking in his jaw.
We combed the beach, calling Skye’s name until my throat was raw, my fingers numb with cold. The sun had sunk low on the horizon. How long had we been down here? I didn’t even know.
Emotion welled up behind my ribs as I turned to Aranare. “I think... I think we should get my coat, and I’ll check SSJones’s Lady.” The suggestion sank into my stomach like I’d swallowed a stone.
“She’s not down there. Don’t even say such a thing.” Aranare clenched his fists, and his anger radiated.
“Can you just take me to my place?” I turned away, unable to hold back the tears.
He exhaled and then nodded.
“Wait here,” I told him as he pulled the truck up outside Granddad’s house a few minutes later.
I burst through the front door and flew up the narrow attic stairs, two at a time, racing to my bedroom to snatch my grandmother’s fur coat.
Granddad was watching the news by the fire when I darted back past the living room. “There’s fresh fish on the table,” he called.
“Tha—” I paused when I caught the newsreader’s voice. “Ms. Davies reportedly fell from her boyfriend, Mr. Stewart’s, yacht last night. Authorities say he is cooperating fully with the investigation.”
“Turn it up!” I gasped breathlessly as I rushed to Granddad’s side and grabbed the remote from the coffee table.
Parker appeared on the screen. I remembered his blue eyes and cleftchin from the Samhain festival. His face was pulled into an expression of sadness. “We think she fell... or maybe she jumped. She was sitting in the stern, and when we docked, she was gone. I just hope that, somehow, she finds her way home.” He stifled an exaggerated sob. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” He pushed the news anchor’s microphone to the side and turned away from the camera.
My nails dug into my palms as I sprinted back to Aranare. His truck was idling at the curb, headlights casting twin pools of yellow across the narrow street.
“Let’s go now!” I drummed my palm on the dashboard and clutched the coat to my chest, casting my eyes to the sky. The sun had almost set. We needed to hurry.
We were soon at the beach, and Aranare was behind me as I tore down to the soft sand, shrugging on my Selkie jacket as we ran.
“I’m coming with you this time,” he growled.
I nodded, exhaling as my gaze swept the bay one last time. Waves lapped against the jetty to my right, and to my left stood Merrow Rocks and the old stone lighthouse Finn and I had once climbed. Its light was on, casting a golden glow through the windows. My breath hitched as a silhouette moved within its glass crown—a woman.
“Skye!” I gasped.
I ran across the damp sand, slipping slightly as I scrambled over the slick rocks, making my way toward the lighthouse.
“Morgana?” Aranare was at my heels.
“I saw a woman. Come on!” I grabbed his wrist, yanking him after me.
We were both breathless when we reached the grassy ledge above the rocks just below the lighthouse. I grasped the handle and tried the door. It was locked. I threw my shoulder into it like I’d seen Finn do, but it didn’t budge.
“Here.” Aranare coughed, gently moving me aside with an exasperated sigh. He hovered his palm over the door, and it clicked open. “We’re magic, remember? If we can affect the brain—the most complex structure in the universe—I think we can handle a lock.” He chuckled, stepping inside.
I took two steps at a time. “Skye,” I called, but my chest was tight from a stitch.
