Crescent City prepared for sleep the way a frightened animal curls into itself—quiet, trembling, pretending everything is normal while sensing danger close by. Street lamps flickered like tired eyes. The roads thinned to silence. And yet the air held a pressure that made Alec feel as if something were leaning over the town, watching.
After the encounter near the lake, neither he nor Mara had spoken much. Fear made words feel brittle, easily snapped.
Now, in Mara's living room, the lamps glowed low. Mara sat curled in her faded armchair, knees pulled close, glasses crooked from when she'd clutched Alec and run. Her brown eyes carried that wild sheen—the one that comes after a person sees something they don't know how to believe.
Alec paced.
"Whatever that thing was," Mara said quietly, "it mimicked her. Elara. It sounded like her. Exactly like her."
Alec stopped, palms pressed to the back of his neck. "Don't." His voice cracked. "Don't compare it to her. That thing isn't Elara."
"But it knows her," Mara replied. "It used her voice for a reason."
Alec stared at the floor, jaw clenched. "Or it used my memory of her."
Mara didn't argue. The silence grew heavy enough to bend the air between them.
After a few minutes, Mara stood and crossed the room. She took Alec's arm—not gently, not delicately, but firmly, grounding him.
"Alec, what did the coroner really say?" she asked. "Not the public version. The one people whisper about."
He didn't answer at first. He'd avoided thinking about that conversation for days. But Mara waited, her gaze unwavering.
"He didn't want the sheriff to hear…" Alec said slowly. "But he told me her body temperature was… impossibly low. Lower than what a human could survive. Lower than what even the lake water could have caused."
Mara's breath hitched. "Like something drained the heat out of her."
Alec nodded.
"And the blue stains," Mara whispered. "Did he mention those?"
Alec hesitated. "He thought it was a pigment. Something unnatural. But he couldn't match it to anything."
Mara sank back into her chair, fingers trembling. "Alec… that same stain was on your hand tonight."
He looked down at his palm again. No matter how hard he'd scrubbed at the sink, the faint blue tint clung to the lines of his skin, like something absorbed rather than touched.
"I know," he said.
For a while, they sat immersed in the shared dread that neither wanted to name aloud. The only sound was the low hum of Mara's old heater and the faint creak of her wooden floors cooling.
Then—
A soft rap at the window.
Mara jolted upright. Alec's pulse spiked.
The knock came again—three taps, evenly spaced.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Mara whispered, "No one visits at this hour."
Alec moved slowly toward the curtains, each step cautious. Mara watched with both hands clutched to her mouth.
Alec lifted a corner of the curtain.
Nothing stood outside.
But the glass bore a mark.
A blue handprint.
Small. Feminine.
Pressed right against the pane as though someone had leaned in and exhaled against it.
Mara clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. "Alec—"
He stepped back. The room suddenly felt too tight, too warm, like the air had gone stale.
Before he could process the sight, Mara's phone buzzed sharply, the sudden vibration slicing through the tension. She fumbled for it.
The caller ID froze her blood.
CATHERINE MYLES.
Alec stared at the screen. "Why would she—this late?"
Mara answered with a shaking voice. "Catherine?"
Static crackled. Then a long, breathy exhale. A crackling whisper crept through the receiver, thin and distorted.
"Mara…"
Mara's knees weakened. Alec steadied her.
"Mara…" the voice repeated. Not warm. Not familiar. A stretched, distorted version of Catherine's tone as if forced through something unnatural.
"Mara… she's here… she's—"
The call cut off.
Mara lowered the phone, knuckles white. "Alec, Catherine doesn't sound like that. She would never—"
Before she finished, the phone buzzed again. A new message.
From Catherine.
No text.
Just a picture.
Alec leaned close.
The photo showed Catherine's hallway—lights off, the frame tilted as if taken by a trembling hand.
And in the middle of the hallway…
A figure.
Woman-shaped.
Tall.
Head splayed to the side.
Her face smooth and featureless except for the faint, glowing blue stain where a mouth should have been.
The same figure they saw on the road.
Mara dropped the phone. It clattered against the hardwood floor with a sharp crack.
"We have to go to her," she whispered.
Alec grabbed her shoulders. "Mara—no. If that thing is at Catherine's house, we can't just walk into it."
"But she's alone!" Mara said, voice breaking. "Elara was her only child. Alec, she has no one left."
Alec closed his eyes. Catherine's face earlier—pale, aged, trembling—flashed behind his eyelids. He felt something twist in his chest.
"We'll go," he said, voice low. "But we approach carefully. We don't go inside unless—unless we know it's safe."
Mara nodded, though her hands shook violently.
Alec grabbed his keys from the table. Mara slipped into her coat, hair still in its messy bun, glasses sliding down her nose. She pushed them up with a trembling finger.
As they stepped out of her house, the cold night air hit them like a warning.
The street was quiet. Too quiet. Even the insects were silent.
Alec paused. "Do you feel that?"
Mara swallowed. "The air feels… thick."
They walked quickly toward his car. Halfway there, Alec froze.
Standing at the far end of Mara's street was a tall silhouette. Unmoving. Facing them.
Its head tilted.
Mara whispered, "Alec… is that…?"
He grabbed her hand. "Don't run. Not yet. Walk."
They walked. Each step deliberate. Their hearts hammering in their throats.
The figure didn't move.
Didn't advance.
Didn't retreat.
It simply watched.
When they reached the car, Mara lunged inside. Alec got behind the wheel, breath ragged.
He turned the key.
The engine sputtered.
Coughed.
Died.
Alec tried again.
Nothing.
A cold breath washed through the air vents—icy enough to sting.
Mara's voice trembled. "Alec… it's not letting us leave."
He gripped the wheel, jaw tight, fear slicing through him like a blade.
"Then," Alec whispered, staring through the windshield at the unmoving figure in the distance, "we're going anyway."
He slammed the door open and pulled Mara out by the hand.
And together, on foot, they began the long walk toward Catherine Myles' house—toward whatever waited inside.
Toward whatever wanted them next.