The raft was almost done. Just the oar left.
I stood back, hands on my hips, staring at my handiwork. It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but it looked sturdy enough to hold me, maybe even carry me far enough into open water.
Tomorrow was the full moon. The night Dad had always circled in his notes.
I could feel it building in my chest, something like excitement… or maybe dread. Either way, I was ready.
I knew it wasn't going to be as easy as it sounded in my head. Nothing ever was. But I wasn't leaving this island until I'd finished what Dad started. Until I'd seen it with my own eyes. Until I knew.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead, turning toward the house when I heard it, a low hum vibrating through the air, cutting through the sound of the waves.
I froze.
It sounded like an engine. Small. Close.
I scanned the horizon, trying to figure out what the sound was. Big ships sometimes passed by way out in the distance. But this wasn't a ship.
This sounded closer.
I squinted toward the shoreline, and that's when I saw it. A motorboat.
Small. Fast. Pulling away from the island, heading back out toward open water.
I frowned. This wasn't a tourist island. Most maps didn't even show this place existed. Only the locals knew it was here, and even they rarely came this far.
Something about it didn't sit right with me. I turned to head back to the house, not thinking much of it only to stop dead in my tracks.
There, standing outside the house, was a man. He was peeking in through the window like a thief.
"Can I help you?" The words left my mouth sharper than I intended, making him jump.
"God, you scared me." He let out a breathless chuckle and turned to face me, extending a hand like we were about to be best friends. "Hi, I'm Vicky."
I didn't shake his hand. I didn't even move.
"What do you want?"
A normal person would've asked how can I help you? But I wasn't normal, and this wasn't some friendly neighborhood.
Vicky's smile twitched, but he didn't drop it.
"I'm afraid you're currently inhabiting private property," he said, gesturing casually toward the house.
I crossed my arms, sizing him up. Baggy clothes. Unshaven face. Late twenties, if I had to guess. Too young to be some official guard, too clean to be a fisherman. The way he smiled, like he knew something I didn't, itched under my skin.
"I'm aware," I shot back, walking past him toward the door. His eyes tracked me the whole way, heavy and unsettling.
I stopped in the doorway, holding onto the frame like I was guarding the place with my body.
"This house belongs to Dr. Alan Berry," he said, his smile fading just a little.
I squinted my eyes, meeting his eyes dead-on.
"I know," I replied, every word deliberate. "He was my father."
That made him freeze. I watched his face shift, first surprise, then something sharper. His gaze scanned me, like he was trying to find the resemblance.
Good luck with that. I looked more like my mother, unfortunately. Another cruel joke from the universe.
"You're… Kash?" His voice cracked a little, like he didn't believe it. The grin came back even wider, stretched across his face like he'd just won a bet.
"Kashton," I corrected, standing my ground. Only the people who actually knew me called me Kash. And this man wasn't one of them.
"Well, I've come to collect his journals," he sighed, already moving like he had the right to step inside.
I tensed immediately, reaching for the door and putting myself on the way before he could cross the threshold.
"The fuck off this place. My father's journals are none of your business." My voice was sharp, too loud, too fast, but I didn't care.
His expression shifted from polite to pissed in a heartbeat.
"What are you even doing here?" he snapped back, like I was the one intruding.
I straightened my spine, squaring my shoulders in a way I hoped made me look bigger, more in control than I felt. "I'm here to continue my father's research." The words left my mouth tighter than intended, every syllable clipped with defensive pride.
Vicky's mouth twitched, something between a smirk and a sneer.
"His research?" he repeated, like the word itself was a joke. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels, eyeing me like I was some rookie stepping into a ring I wasn't trained for.
"Yes," I shot back, standing taller. "I'm going to find the merpeople."
I knew how ridiculous it sounded. Even I could hear how stupid it sounded. But it was the truth. My truth.
Vicky's face cracked wide open in a laugh, sharp, unkind.
"Merpeople?" He laughed again, louder this time. "Is that what you think they are? Cute little ariels?" His voice was pure mockery now, like I was some child clinging to bedtime stories.
"Shut up." The words scraped out of me, low and bitter. I hated that even this stranger thought he had permission to laugh at me. To mock me like everyone else.
I clenched my fists and turned, ready to walk away, when he spoke again.
"You know we captured one, right? Your dad and me."
I stopped cold. My heart kicked hard in my chest.
I turned back slowly, narrowing my eyes.
"You're lying."
Vicky took a single step closer, folding his arms like he wasn't in any hurry to convince me.
"Nope." His chin lifted slightly, that infuriating smirk still curling at the corner of his mouth.
I glanced at his pocket where his phone sat. "Do you have a picture?" My voice was flat, emotionless, masking the tornado building inside me.
He barked out another laugh, shaking his head. "Are you crazy? Why the hell would I carry a picture of it?"
His expression hardened, the humor draining from his voice as he leaned in, lowering it like we weren't already standing alone on an island.
"He never told you, did he? That's how secretive it was. You have no idea."
I swallowed hard, throat dry.
"How could we risk someone finding out? The government's been covering this up for years, denying everything. You really think we could go public with something like that?"
He shifted his sling bag higher on his shoulder, glaring at me like I was the idiot for even asking.
"Why?" The word slipped out, softer than I intended. I sounded small. Unsure. Vulnerable.
Vicky let out a slow breath, his jaw ticking once. "I'll tell you everything."
He leaned in just a little. "But you have to let me in."
Every instinct I had screamed no.
But I was already stepping aside.
I watched him cross the threshold like he belonged here more than I did.
Without hesitation, he walked straight to the corner of the room, crouched down, and pulled up a loose floorboard I hadn't even noticed before.
He reached underneath and pulled out a bag I didn't know existed.
And just like that, I realized, He knew this place better than I ever had.
"This is mine," he clarified, hugging the bag to his chest like he thought I'd snatch it out of his hands.
Honestly, I probably would've if I'd been quick enough.
I stood there, jaw clenched, watching as he casually unzipped the bag and pulled out an air mattress. He slapped it onto the rusted metal bed frame like he'd done it a hundred times before, then flopped down on it with a long, satisfied sigh.
"God, I'm so freaking tired," he muttered, stretching his arms above his head before turning to glance at me again. "I really did miss this place."
Something about the way he said it, like he belonged here more than I did, made my skin itch.
He was getting under my skin in ways I couldn't explain. Touching things like they were his. Moving around like this was his damn summer home.
I felt… territorial. Possessive. Like every inch of this house was mine by blood right alone.
And this guy… this Vicky… was trespassing on all of it.
I folded my arms tighter across my chest.
"Tell me about the creature," I snapped, ignoring his smug little performance.
Vicky sighed dramatically, rubbing his stomach.
"Well, I would, but I need to eat first. I'm starving."
I blinked, deadpan.
"Do you think this is a restaurant? I don't have food for two people."
His nonchalance grated on me like sandpaper.
"Relax," he muttered, holding up the same damn bag again like it was his secret weapon. "I brought my own."
He dug around inside, pulling out a bunch of dented canned food like he'd done this a hundred times. Without asking, he waltzed into the tiny kitchen and started preparing it, like I wasn't even standing there.
I rubbed my temple, fighting the urge to scream.
"How long are you planning to stay here?" I snapped. I didn't even care about the creature anymore. This guy could've made the whole thing up for all I knew.
"I'm here for work," he replied casually, not even looking back at me as he stirred whatever the hell he was cooking. "I'm collecting Dr. Berry's research to take back to the university."
I frowned, stepping closer.
"What do you mean?"
Vicky finally turned to face me, looking almost proud.
"I'm a PhD student. I'm writing my dissertation on genetically mutated species."
The words landed like a punch to the gut.
"So you're just going to steal my father's life's work and slap your name on it?" I snapped, my voice cold, sharp.
If he felt guilty, he didn't show it. Not even a little.
"It's my work too," he shrugged. "I wasn't his assistant for nothing."
I glared at him, knowing damn well arguing would get me nowhere. But I wasn't backing down.
"I came here first," I shot back. "This is my father's house. I get to decide what leaves and what doesn't."
I stood my ground like the stubborn bastard I knew I could be.
"And if you're really just here to pick up his work… why the hell did your boat leave you here? Why didn't they wait?"
Vicky looked up, unfazed.
"I planned on staying a while. I love this place," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
He smirked again, crossing his arms.
"Now, now… don't get all high and mighty. I took care of your father for four years. Give me some credit."
That's when I snapped.
"You're trespassing!" I shouted, the words bouncing off the walls.
But before either of us could throw another word, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the back of the house.
We both froze.
And in that moment, all our petty arguments evaporated into the thick, heavy silence.
Something, or someone, was out there.
"What was that?" Vicky whispered, his voice tight with surprise as we both rushed toward the sound.
We reached the porch, shoulders nearly colliding as we peered through the glass door.
Nothing.
Just a wet patch glistening on the wooden floorboards, water trailing off toward the edge like something had climbed out of the ocean and vanished.
I let out a slow breath and rubbed my jaw.
"I thought this place didn't have seals but apparently they do," I muttered dryly, already turning back toward the kitchen. I'd already decided last night that it had to be some curious seal slipping up here when the tides were high. I wasn't going to spook myself over it again.
"Look," I started, squaring my shoulders. "This is my father's research. I'm going to continue it. And, just so you know, I'm not some idiot with a fantasy."
I crossed my arms, holding his stare. "I have a degree in molecular biology," I added, sharper than intended. "I think I can handle this."
I expected him to argue. Maybe roll his eyes. I didn't expect him to laugh, full, loud, unbothered.
"You think your degree is going to save you from creatures that are seven feet tall and vicious as hell?" he shot back between chuckles.
I blinked, caught off guard.
"What?"
Vicky leaned against the counter like he was about to start telling some fireside ghost story. "Your dad and I… we spent months tracking them," he began, voice suddenly steady. "We used to sit up on the rocky cliffs for hours, waiting. Sometimes we'd catch the flick of a tail, the glimmer of hair, just for a second. Then nothing for days. Weeks."
I stayed quiet, my throat dry, as he went on.
"They started to taunt us after a while," he added, eyes narrowing slightly at the memory. "Showing up just long enough to make us believe, then disappearing again like they knew exactly what they were doing."
I didn't move, barely even breathed.
"It took years," he said, almost reverently. "Years of watching… chasing… until we got desperate."
"We set traps."
"Traps?" My voice came out low, like I already hated where this was going.
He nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward like he was reliving it in real-time.
"And yeah… we caught one."
I felt my gut twist, half from disbelief, half from something colder.
"It was a female," he answered quickly. "More beautiful than any human woman I'd ever seen. Except, well… she had tiny boobs," he added with an utterly serious expression, like it mattered.
I clenched my teeth, swallowing the urge to roll my eyes.
"What else?" I forced myself to ask.
Vicky leaned back on the counter, folding his arms.
"She wasn't happy, that's for sure. She was snapping at us, trying to bite my arm off. Stronger than hell. We had to tie her up in the net just to keep her from tearing us apart."
I swallowed thickly, my jaw tightening. The image of some terrified, intelligent creature trapped and fighting for her life made my stomach turn.
"Your dad left for city to get that massive glass tank, you must have seen it in the basement." Vicky rubbed his hands together like he was proud of that memory. "When he was gone, she grew legs and tried to run. I had to sedate her. He wasn't happy about it… but what choice did I have? She would've killed me."
I stayed quiet, staring at the floor, trying not to let him hear the grinding of my teeth.
"We filled the tank with seawater, lowered her in," he continued, almost breathless now.
"And right in front of us, snap, the legs fused back into fins. Like magic."
I didn't smile. Not even close.
Vicky didn't seem to notice. He kept talking like he was giving me the adventure of a lifetime.
"Your dad watched her for hours. Took notes. Drew sketches. But then…" Vicky snapped his fingers. "We went to bed, and the next morning, gone."
I looked up, breath catching in my throat.
"She escaped?"
Vicky nodded, shaking his head like he still couldn't believe it.
"Chewed right through the chain we tied her with. Chewed it, Kash. You can't make that up. What kind of creature chews through metal?"
I let out a shaky breath, almost relieved she'd gotten away.
"We tried for two more months after that," he admitted, "but we never saw a single one again. Not even a shadow."
I shook my head, cold disgust blooming in my chest.
Of course, they disappeared.
Of cours,e they were scared.
Vicky leaned forward on the counter again, dropping his voice.
"I went home after that. Thought maybe it was over. Your dad went to the city again for supplies. Next thing I know…" He paused, looking at me, almost softer this time. "I get a call informing me of his death. This place did have a way to fuck with one's mind. And he was…well…we was different."
I gritted my teeth. That's what they said about me too. 'You are different' What they really mean is 'you are nutcase'.
Vicky rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm… I'm really sorry, Kash. He was a good man."
God, I wish he could stop calling me Kash.
"It's fine," I whispered, the lie thick on my tongue. "I'm over it."
I turned toward the hallway without another glance.
"I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."
I didn't wait for a reply.
I just walked away, doing my best to block out the heavy weight crawling up my throat. Because the truth was, he wasn't just intruding on my house.
He was intruding on my grief.
And I wasn't ready to share any of that with him.