Page 24 of Bitten By the Basilisk

Between the sexy supe she currently had her body wrapped around, the thrill of riding on his motorcycle, and the constant vibration of its engine beneath her seat, Alice couldn’t say which was most to blame for her racing pulse.

Silas had asked to take her to the lighthouse for a scenic view of the town and its namesake.

“Or we can go somewhere that’s not as isolated,” he then offered.

His consideration was as hot as his initiative. “I know I’m safe with you,” she assured him, “so let’s go to the lighthouse.”

The way his body stilled signaled that her remark had surprised him.

He nodded. “I appreciate that.”

Indigo Cove Head Light was just south of Harvest Hills Farm on the westernmost edge of the town’s limits. The closest they could get there on Silas’s motorcycle was a small, unlit gravel lot, right off the main road, that was empty when they arrived.

Tucked against the lot was a large field of sunflowers, now at the tail end of their peak and currently acting as a windbreak for the lot. Silas parked as far from the road as possible, to prevent passing cars from easily spotting his bike.

Though the headland on which the lighthouse sat was guaranteed to be windy, they opted to leave their helmets behind. Instead, Alice loosened her scarf enough to pull it over her hair like a hood, then flipped up the collar of her jacket.

Walking hand in hand, they followed a natural footpath that would eventually end at the lighthouse, nothing overhead but the moon and stars, which shone so brightly that the landscape around them softly glowed.

Every time they traversed a particularly uneven section, Silas tightened his grip on her hand.

The lighthouse up ahead was simple in design—an all-white stone tower about fifty feet tall, its only outbuilding the keeper’s house. If they were quiet, they wouldn’t disturb the selkie who lived there.

As plain as the lighthouse looked, it had a powerful magical aura, or rather it used to. The nimbus around it was wide but faded, like a weathered mural.

“Oh, wow,” Alice marveled as they approached an eastern-facing vantage.

The view was spectacular, encompassing the cove and its whirlpool, Clifton House on the other side, and the town’s lights beyond that. The ghostly mirage of The Tempest drifted offshore. If the souvenir shops didn’t sell a postcard of this view, she would eat her scarf.

“Have you ever seen Kennie?” she asked, glancing up at her escort.

“I have. More than once.”

“What was it like?”

“Hmm,” he said, considering. “Like the first time I ever rode a motorcycle. A little unnerving, but mostly exciting.”

She nodded, then returned her gaze to the stunning vista, committing it to memory. The sound of the waves and wind, the roof of stars, and the pale cast of moonlight over everything from the peaks in the water to the treetops on land. The urge to paint the scene before her rose like a tidal wave.

At first, she didn’t notice the warm, gentle light beside her, mistaking it for distant headlights. When it lingered, she glanced at it from the corner of her eye.

“Oh!”

She and Silas turned at the same time to observe the hitodama that had appeared to their left, where it danced in the air as though the wind had no power to move it.

Alice ventured closer, watching as it put out several duplicates. They hovered around her like slow-moving butterflies in search of nectar. One even brushed past her cheek, not touching but still leaving a tingle that made her smile and laugh.

“Are you doing that?” Silas asked, speaking with quiet wonder.

She shrugged. “I think it just likes me.”

“What is it? A will-o’-the-wisp?”

“My guess is a hitodama.” She briefly explained what that was. “You’ve never seen one?”

He shook his head. “The first time I ever saw something like that was back at the spa, when you first found me.”

Pondering, she held out her cupped hand, and the nearest orb settled in her gloved palm. If not for the tingling sensation it evoked, she wouldn’t feel it at all.