Just when I think I’ve found a little corner of this place I might get used to, something like this happens. I stay up reading until sleep pulls me under.
Conall
Dolly’s obsession is making me mad. Earlier today, I'd confronted her and asked her not to leave out the blood tonight. She scolded me and told me I wouldn’t like it if I were hungry. She insists her little pet isn’t dangerous so long as he’s fed. I watch him come and go, making sure I stay between him and Everlane Cottage.
My hound snaps to the surface, sensing Ivy’s proximity. The sharp tug sets my teeth on edge. The bastard won’t let me be more than a block away from her without protesting. I don’t understand why. I don’t need to be on top of her to protect her.
The phraseon top of herrattling through my head gives me ideas I shouldn’t be having and don’t want. I need this protection spell broken so I can be free.
I’ve been watching her all day, as I'm spelled to do. I see her walking through her shop, learning from Amy. She interacts with but dismisses the clear magical items on the shelves.
She goes into the Alexandria. This should be it, the moment she breaks and runs away screaming. Layla insisted the interior couldn't be modified by any means without risking precious material. Which means what’s inside is scientifically impossible. But the screams never come. Instead, I watch with growing confusion as Ivy steps out of the bookshop carrying an armful of books, smiling and waving goodbyeto Layla. Then walking side-by-side with Dolly as if they’re all good friends. As if she belongs here.
Ivy Smith has become my personal enigma. A puzzle to solve. A chain to break before I lose my freedom.
Ivy
The bedroom lights flick on like usual when I wake up in the morning. Weird. I look to the lighthouse. No tentacles. I look to Dolly's pink cottage. No saucer full of blood. Did I dream it? Maybe I fell asleep earlier than I thought. My therapist’s voice nags in the back of my brain, telling me to trust my instincts and what I know.
I know I was awake.
Between everything I’ve seen on this island so far, my cult theory feels more and more plausible. Maybe this is all a theme. Like a Halloween-themed island for tourists. Except Dolly said there were no tourists and no one visited the island. Even the ferryman is a resident. I’d seen him in town.
By the time I’ve gotten dressed and step out the door, I feel all turned around from thinking about it too long.
Which is probably why, just outside of the gate as I step onto the road, I almost run headfirst into someone.
"Oh, sorry I—" I start and then freeze when I look up and find Conall, the man in line behind me at the coffee shop yesterday, standing less than two inches from me. I can literally feel the heat of him through our clothes. He smells of forest and earth after rain. His eyes are a sharp, piercing green. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt that pulls tight over his muscled frame, and a backward baseball cap covers most of his hair, though the loose strands are black and soft.
"What the hell?" I nearly shout. At this point my nerves are fried.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." His voice is deep and sonorous and sends shivers up my spine despite the warm morning.
"Are you stalking me?" I’ve lost all my filters, and I don’t even care. Of all the weird, disturbing, or just plain unexplainable things I’ve seen since coming to this island two days ago, a man stalking me is definitely the most infuriating in how pedestrian its creep factor is. I don't need this.
"I'm walking down the only path to town." He gestures up and down the road that winds down from my bluff and around the island towards the woods on the left and towards the town to the right. Despite being here for two days, I hadn’t actually realized it was the only road into town, but now, looking around, I can see that it is.
"Why were you just standing at the roundabout staring into my store yesterday?" I press.
"I was looking for bandages and didn't know if you had any. Thought I could spot them," he explains, voice level and sounding entirely too reasonable.
"From across the street? You thought you could spot them from across the street?" My voice cracks. The stress is definitely getting to me.
"I have very good eyes," he assures me, flashing his green beauties. Then he has the audacity to wink.
I turn and start walking toward town, and he follows.
"And at the café?" It's my last line of defense. I’m sure he’s been stalking me, but after this conversation I can feel that old doubt in myself and my instincts creeping in.
"I needed a coffee."
Simple and likely true.
I stop and turn on him. "And you haven't been lingering outside my home? Near the gate, in the forest?"
He cocks his head and it's meant to read as confused, but there's something behind his eyes. Something unwilling.
I turn away, unable to stomach another lie. He doesn't feel dangerous in a stalker kind of way. He isn't giving off that vibe. If anything, he seems annoyed to have to be around me at all, and I can’t figure out why. Just another mystery on this weird island.
