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He shakes his head. “No, but look at this.” Kiernan heads to the sink and washes his hands, drying them on his jeans before he retrieves his bag from the front of the bakery. He pulls out a book and flips the pages, holding it up for me to see.
“This cryptid can detach his shadow and send it off up to one hundred miles from his physical form.”
The creature on the page has enormous bird-like wings, a humanoid face and body, and large clawed feet. In the illustration, its shadow is hovering above its head.
“And you think that’s what was in the bakery?”
He closes the book and slides it back into his bag.
“It’s one theory. But there are so many other things it could be. You'll be the first to know when I find out more.”
The buzzer on the oven pings, drawing a close to the conversation, and then time passes swiftly as we mix, fold, and ice before boxing up the bakes and delivering them to Mrs Lawrence.
Mistakes. They say you learn from them, but perhaps that’s only true if they don’t kill you first. That’s the thought crossing my mind as I approach the back door to the bakery. It’s open, splinters of wood sticking out from where the lock’s been damaged.
I step inside, my hand tightening around my phone. The screen is alight with a photo I’ve looked at a thousand times since it came through earlier this morning from an unknown number.
In it, Kiernan is tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth, his eyes wide and frightened.
“Meet me at your bakery at six am. Come alone or your friend dies.”
Getting Sterling to agree to stay at the lighthouse wasn’t easy because he was hesitant to leave my side. But I made out I had to meet Kiernan earlier than usual to prepare a big order and so didn’t have time to feed the animals. That buys me approximately an hour before he’ll come looking for me.
“Hello,” I say into the empty space, unease crawling up my spine.
The shuffling of feet on the ground behind me has my stomach churning, the acidic taste of fear rising in my throat. I twist my feet but don't get a good look at the source of the sound before a thick sack of sorts covers my head. The fabric scratches my skin, and I lift my hands to lash out at the person behind me, but he grabs my arms, two strong hands gripping me to the point of pain.
“Quiet,” he says. “My boss wants you alive, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you if you make this hard for me.”
I still as he ties my hands behind my back and then guides me across the floor. I hear the door being pushed against the wall and feel cool morning air on my skin as we step outside. He half drags me across asphalt before a big hand lands on the back of my head and he shoves me into a car.
“Stay down and shut up. We may need you alive, but your friend is fair game.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them in the darkness to stop them from falling. I have to stay strong, for Kiernan and for me.
My heart beats. Once. Twice. The double beat of my mate that I hope means he’ll know that something is wrong. That this bond is strong enough to lead him to me.
The car turns down winding roads, my body bumping against the seat, nausea swirling in my gut. I try not to think about my breath and how my lungs are aching with each inhale. The fabric over my head grows damp in spots, sticking to the sweat beading on my skin.
By the time the car stops and the man has dragged me out, my legs are shaking and I’m sure I’m going to throw up. The ground he leads me over is uneven, twigs breaking under my feet. He drags me roughly, holding tightly to my upper arms. We walk for what feels like hours before he pulls the sack off my head and I gasp in lungfuls of fresh air. Opening my eyes slowly, I take in my surroundings – a clearing, trees circling us on three sides, and a steep drop to the sea at our front.
We're standing at the top of Sea Cliffs, though much further along than the section that can be seen from my beach. From memory, there is a row of old, abandoned log cabins in these trees, once used by the forestry commission.
“Why am I here?”
The man doesn’t answer, he just kicks me in the back of my knee, forcing me to kneel.
“Please. Tell me what’s happening?” I can't help the hitch in my voice as I plead for answers.
“Shut up,” he spits. I close my mouth, darting my eyes around the space, wondering if I could somehow make a run for it and get away. Maybe hide in one of the old cabins. Above me, gulls circle and clouds float through the sky, oblivious to what is happening beneath them.
“Please,” I whisper.
The man sits on a log, then pulls a knife out of his pocket. “I told you to shut your mouth.”
Tears sting my eyes and I look up and breathe through the rising panic. If I want to stay alive and keep Kiernan safe, I have to remain calm. Sterling will find me.
Steady, lad. I hear Pop’s voice in my head, as loud as it was the day I told him I hated school and the kids who bullied me. “Bullies are weak. They want to have power over you, so they feel bigger than they are. Don’t hand them that power.”
