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 isbig. 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.
Shewantsme 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.
