Page 17

“On second thoughts,” he says, turning back to me, hand clasped around the chain, “Why don’t you take me to him?” His words come out sharp, as though he is commanding me to do it.

I narrow my eyes. “No,” I reply firmly. He frowns, dropping the necklace and shoving both hands into his pockets. “Very well.”

I don’t follow him as he climbs into his car and reverses, then turns back towards the gate. It’s as he’s crossing the threshold to the farm that the same dark entity from before swirls above his vehicle.

“Stay away,” I yell and the dark form pauses before dropping to the ground, taking on an almost human shape. I don’t know what it is – it could be any number of things, another cryptid, a ghost, a demon – whatever it is, it’s here with that man, and they want something from my human. Of that, I am certain.

I think it’s time I made my appearance known in this sleepy little village. Time I got to know Caspian better, and to find out exactly what this man and his…creature are after. And if it’s anything to harm my human, or this village, I won’t hesitate to put an end to it and them…permanently.

TEN

CASPIAN

“Someone left this,” Kiernan says, coming around the counter with a book in his hand. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened, and it’s the reason we have a free mini library box in the bakery.

“What’s this one about?” I ask. Kiernan lays it down in front of us.

Cryptids of the Land and Sea: A Comprehensive Guide to Cryptids in the United Kingdom

Kiernan opens to the first page. It’s a contents page made up of a collage of small images and orange font. My eyes narrow in on a picture at the very bottom of the page. Like the rest of the cryptid images, it’s printed in black and white, but I know without a doubt that this specific creature’s eyes are green.

I know because I’ve seen them.

“Turn to page fifty-four,” I say, a touch of urgency in my voice. My heart skips a beat when Kiernan reaches the page I requested and I’m faced with a full colour, enlarged illustration of what is most certainly the beast from my dreams.

The Beast of the Sea, the title reads in a large orange scrawl. Beneath it, there are two images. One is an illustration of the cryptid swimming beneath the teal water and the other is a black and white photograph. The image is grainy and taken from a distance, so it isn’t easy to make out the features, apart from a large tail extending from a blurry grey blob. The caption reads:

A rare sighting of the elusive Beast of the Sea (also known in some parts of the UK as Sea Beast or Guardian of the Coast) taken by Thomas McKinney in October 1985. Mr McKinney was standing on a hilltop when he spotted the beast hunting on a beach in Alnwick, Northumberland. Later sightings place the beast further north on a beach in Fife, while more recently there have been sightings in the south of England in Shoreham in West Sussex, Bude in Cornwall and on the east coast in Rhossili Bay, Wales.

“That must be the one that saved you,” Kiernan says, tapping the colourful illustration. “He’s the one Pops told us about.” I shake my head, but don’t look away from the page.

I read once that you can’t dream of someone you’ve never seen before, but that can’t be true because this creature is a myth, it doesn’t exist. And yet…though the drawing differs a bit from the beast in my dream, I have no doubt it’s the same one.

In my dreams, I can never make out his face, except for its teeth and glowing eyes. Some nights they’re set in the face of a wolf and other nights they appear more human. But the furred legs and claws, and that thick tail are always clear. In this drawing, the creature has a human face, shrouded in long grey hair, and a broad human torso covered in scales. But its lower body and feet, and the tail, are just as they appear when I close my eyes.

I shake my head. The logical explanation is that Pops told us about it, so I had a picture of it in my mind.

“Says here that the Beast follows the pulse of the lighthouse to wherever he is needed.”

I snort. “The pulse of the lighthouse?”

Kiernan shrugs. “That’s what it says.” He reads from the page.

“The Beast of the Sea is a semi-aquatic cryptid that is believed to have a mystical connection to lighthouses throughout the UK. Some cryptozoologists liken it to the way dolphins use electroreception to detect the heartbeats of other marine animals. It is believed that lighthouses in distress emit an electrical current that the beast feels as a unique, identifiable pulse in the water.”

Kiernan stops reading and looks up at me, his hand resting on the corner of the book.

“I get why Pops liked this tale,” I say, moving away from my friend and the book. “It has all his favourite things. A monster. A lighthouse. The sea. But at the end of the day, it’s still just a story.”

“Hmm,” Kiernan starts. “Maybe. But let’s look at the facts.” He holds out his hand and starts counting on his fingers. “There is a lighthouse right here in Newbridge, on your beach. You needed help that day and you saw a large beast-”

“I dreamed of a large beast,” I correct him. “After hitting my head.”

Kiernan huffs and taps the page. “This creature. This Beast of the Sea, he came to Newbridge. If you don’t want to believe it, don’t, but I do. And Pops would have too.”

I look at the picture again and the familiar poem printed at the top of the page - In the deep, a creature dwells, drawn by the call of an ancient lighthouse. Born to the land and to the sea, he watches over you and me.

Incredulity. Excitement. Fear. Unease. It all rolls and flips like a storm in my chest as I remind myself that this creature is not real while a part of me latches on to the possibility that Kiernan is right and I didn’t simply wash onto shore that day.