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PROLOGUE
Ahigh-pitched sound – something between a howl and cry – pierced the still night, causing the campers huddled around the fire to startle. One girl shrieked. Another stood up abruptly, looking to the tour guide for an answer to the question in her wide eyes.
What the fuck was that?
None of the group of twenty somethings of different nationalities knew this land. They were all here, brought together by a desire to travel. They didn’t know what dwelled beneath the waves, behind the tall Douglas firs and in the deep crevices that looked like eyes cut into the landscape.
But their tour guide did. He’d grown up around here. He knew the land and the lore. He knew the legends that passed from the lips of locals to the ears of inquisitive tourists.
“Settle down and I’ll tell you,” he said, pointing to the log the girl had vacated. She took her seat, eyes still trained on the older man. Next to her, a guy in a green scarf pulled his coat tighter around him, warding off the chill from the night air or perhaps from the fear settling in his bones.
“The UK is home to a creature that very few have seen. Yet many have felt his presence. They say he guards the land and sea and that while he is a protector, he is dangerous too. Dangerous to those who threaten what he has sworn to protect.”
One man scoffed, disbelief written all over his face, not one for tales of the supernatural.
That was fine. Not all who heard the story believed it. Some could even admit that they’d felt the beast’s presence, had smelt his briny scent in the air on a stormy night, and glimpsed his glowing eyes through the dense trees. Even then, they still doubted his existence. Or maybe it made them feel safer to pretend he didn’t exist. To pretend that monsters were not real and that the Beast of the Sea was nothing more than a campfire story.
“How do you know he’s real?” The girl with the wide eyes asked. She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach and leaned closer to the fire.
“Because I’ve seen him,” the tour guide said. “Seen him emerge from the sea, walking onto the shore on large paws, a long tail swishing behind him.”
“Woah,” one camper remarked, eyes scanning the darkened forest surrounding them.
Another howl broke through the night and stole all their attention again. Bodies shifted ever so subtly closer together. Seeking the warmth and comfort of another human. Even the one who clearly didn’t believe shuffled to his right, closer to the group.
“Is that him?” A girl asked, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
The tour guide nodded. “Once upon a time, he swam the length of the UK coastline, never settling in one place for too long. That is, until he landed here and things changed.”
One man leaned in. “What changed? Why did he stay?”
The tour guide smiled, adjusting the backwards cap over his dark hair. “Ah, now that is a good story. It all started with a storm…”
ONE
STERLING
Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.
That’s what this boy, this human, is. So very pretty.
I dip below the water’s surface as he turns in my direction, my tail swishing in a circular motion, moving me further away from the old fishing boat. He could see me if he really looked, but he has no reason to suspect that I’m here.
I wait a few moments, then slowly rise to the surface and swim to the other side of the boat, so the sun is at my back and my view is better.
His cheeks are flushed, and he’s smiling.
I cut a path through the water with my finger, imagining reaching out and touching him. I want to feel his lips on mine. Feel the stubble on his cheeks. The salt in his windswept hair. Want to rake my claws down the smooth expanse of his back and kiss the skin that rises beneath my touch.
Pretty. Pretty. Pretty.
The older man he’s with grins and the boy lights up. I like the way he shines. Bright like a beacon.
I watch him for a while longer before swimming back to shore. Shaking out my fur as my tail retracts, I climb the rocks to watch over the cove, and keep an eye on the boat as it bobs on the gentle swell. I like it here, in this place that smells like salt and warm earth. The boat is a dot in the distance, gulls circling overhead as I stretch out my limbs, digging my claws into the sand.
A shadow falls over me, and I frown, turning my nose to the sky, which has darkened under fast moving clouds. The sea in front of me has too, the swell growing as a storm settles in the cove. It came out of nowhere and doesn’t smell like any storm I’ve experienced before. It smells like evil, like something that doesn’t belong here. My hackles rise – whatever it is, it wants the human I have claimed as my own.
Mine.
