Oscar glanced at her, and they said it together: “Mutually enjoyable interlude.”
She gave him that feline gaze, now gilded by moonlight, which gave her an exotic, elfin look. “And I certainly hope it’s not the last of them.”
And with that cat-in-the-cream expression on her well-kissed lips, she marched off into the woods.
He followed, keeping up with her this time—and walking as quickly as possible in order to leave the mosquitos and gnats behind. That was the bad part about being in or near the woods.
It took about twenty minutes for them to make their way back. As Oscar had had the foresight to bring a flashlight, there were no casualties on the trail, even though it was past ten and very dark by the time they came out in the clearing.
“Oh my God,Oscar.” Teddy’s hand whipped out and grabbed his arm tightly. “Look.”
He lifted his gaze to where she pointed—to the top of the lighthouse.
There it was: the mass of some amorphous entity, glowing bright lime green against the night sky. It was floating near the dark lighthouse cap.
Ten
“We’ve gotto go up there,” Teddy said, even as apprehension stabbed her in the gut.
“No we don’t,” Oscar said in a tone that bespoke finality. But he was standing there, staring up at the glowing green thing as if part of him needed to.
Teddy wanted to go up there and check it out, but at the same time, she really didn’t. So there was no reason to argue.
Instead, they both stared up at the display. She edged closer to him—partly because she was a little chilly now, standing in a wet bikini with the wind from the lake and no sun, and partly because it felt good when his arm came around her and she nestled against his solid, warm body.
The entity floated on the west-southwest side of the gallery that ran around the top of the lighthouse. It was lower than she remembered it being the last time, closer to the trees and not as near the railing.
Eerie, translucent, glowing lime green, and it billowed and shifted like a cloud as if moving with the wind. It didn’t seem to want to form any particular shape, like many ghosts did—at least, from what Teddy remembered from books and movies—but it wasn’t stagnant.
Then it began to expand, growing to a larger diameter. It frothed and undulated and roiled like an angry neon storm cloud as a sharp, agonized scream filled the air.
Teddy jolted, grabbing for Oscar’s arm, as the hair on the back of her neck and everywhere on her body shot straight up. The scream filled her ears, and the malevolent green cloud roiled against the dark, skeletal tree branches…and then, all at once, it was gone.
And the world was silent.
They stood there for a moment. Teddy could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears and the rasp of her own breathing. She was aware of the tension vibrating along Oscar’s arm, which had pulled her tight against him.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay.”
He released her. Continuing to look up at the dark silhouette of the lighthouse against the starry sky, he said, “It was early tonight. It came early.”
Teddy blinked. “You’re right. It’s always been at one thirty. I wonder why.”
“So do I.”
His voice was quiet, and the underlying calm in his tone told her that Oscar had accepted the fact that there was a supernatural presence here.
“It looked different. Than before,” she said. “So. What do we do now?”
He looked at her with surprise. “You’re asking me? Aren’t you usually the one with the plan?” There was a note of affectionate teasing in his words, and the way he looked at her made Teddy feel warm again. “But since you did, I think the best idea is to try and get some sleep. And tomorrow morning—when it’s light—we can go up and check out the lighthouse again.”
For once, she was ready to relinquish control. It had been an exhausting week, and an emotional rollercoaster of an evening. “Yes. Let’s do that. In the light. And we can try to find out more about Stuart Millore tomorrow, too.”
Oscar unlocked the front door to the cottage and pushed it open. After reaching in to turn on the light, he stepped back so Teddy could enter first.
Exhaustion hit her. She just wanted to be prone. In her bed.
Not necessarily alone, however.
