Page 13 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
I shrug, too honest to lie. “He kind of found me.”
She groans and drops her head onto the counter. “Of course he did. Sienna,he’s a myth. Half the town thinks he’s a sailor who pissed off a sea witch. The other half thinks he’s a warning.”
“A warning?”
“Yeah. ‘Don’t dig where the tide’s been whispering.’ That kind of thing. My nana used to say some stories protect themselves. That if you dig too deep, the truth claws back.”
I finger the edge of the clipping. “What if the mythisthe truth?”
She sits back, folds her arms. “Then you’re in way over your head.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
She doesn’t laugh.
“I’m serious, Sienna. Magic like this—it doesn’t care who you are. It doesn’t play fair. It binds, it buries, and ittakes. Your dad spent his whole life poking it, and look how he ended up.”
I glance at the coin again, heavy in my palm like a dare.
“I’m not him,” I say quietly.
“No. But you’ve got his blood, and the relic knows it.”
She leans in close, her voice a whisper.
“Some magic’s better left buried.”
CHAPTER 6
ELIAS
The wind changes just after dusk.
It always does when she’s near.
I feel her before I see her—her footsteps dragging through the sand with all the conviction of a woman who doesn’t want to believe what she already knows. She’s angry. That’s clear in the way the surf pulls harder, the wreck groaning louder as if echoing her mood.
She’s come back to Wrecker’s Bay. Brave or foolish—doesn’t much matter. They’re the same thing, in the end.
I step from the rocks where the tide has half-hidden me all day, letting the sea peel off my shoulders like old skin. I’m stronger now. Morehere. Each time she draws close, the veil weakens, and the air thickens with salt and memory.
She climbs the broken hull of theRuthless Maidenlike it owes her something. I let her.
I want to see what she does when she finds me already waiting.
And when she does—when she freezes with one boot on a rotted beam and her eyes locked on mine—it’s worth every year I’ve spent bound to this wreck.
She doesn’t scream.
Doesn’t run.
She just stares, jaw clenched, like if she blinks I’ll vanish again.
“You always show up uninvited,” I say, my voice gravel and surf.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re not real.”
I arch a brow. “And yet, you’re talking to me.”
