There was a light on the horizon that wasn’t the sun. The sand scratched at the bare skin on Angel’s back. Waves rolled in on the shore. He held up his hand to shield his eyes from the brilliance. There was something he was supposed to do. Somewhere he was meant to be, but couldn’t remember.

He sat up, brushing the sand out of his shaggy hair.

Weird. I haven’t had short hair since I was ten.

Angel blinked, finding that an odd thing to think considering he was still a kid. He turned to see the make-shift tent he’d spent the afternoon constructing. A bright blue tarp was slung over some driftwood logs stuck in the sand. Rocks piled around the base held them steady. It wasn’t much, but it would be home until he could claim a cabin of his own in a few years.

He wouldn’t have to put up with Julian another minute.

What were we fighting about? How did I even get out here?

“There you are Grub!”

Angel turned to Nyx’s voice as she trudged down the beach. Her long chestnut hair swished in a high pony-tail. Freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose beneath stern green eyes.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she exclaimed.

He groaned and ducked into the tent, peeking around the side of the tarp. “Go home, Nyx.”

“No, why should I?” She plunked in front of the entrance. “It’s a public beach.”

“Fine,” he sighed and scooched further toward the back.

“Are you gonna live here now or something?” she asked, eyeballing his craftsmanship.

“Yeah.”

“Angel!”

“What?”

“The tide is gonna come in and sweep you away,” she exclaimed. “You can’t live inside some sticks and a hunk of plastic.”

“Sure I can,” he said, scooping up a handful of sand, letting it slip between his fingers.

“Well then I’m gonna move in here with you.”

Before he could stop her, she crawled in beside him. Squeezed in together, the tent didn’t seem as large. Light beamed in through the tattered holes in the top and sides. There was no wind to ripple the fabric. It remained eerily still. The colours were oddly saturated, even for his sharp vision. The blue plastic stood stark and crisp against the beige sand and pale grey rocks. There was no heat nor cold to the air. Nothing seemed connected to another.

Even Nyx looked… off. There was this feeling in the pit of his gut that he had upset her somehow, that he had wronged her deeply but couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“I’m not,” he said. “You should go home. Molly and Jay will be mad if you’re late. They'll blame me.”

Nyx shrugged and laid down with her arms behind her head. “If you can live on the beach, so can I.”

“No you can’t.”

“Why not?”

Because people back there love you. They’ll miss you.

“Because you’re a girl. You can’t eat crabs and snails.”

“I’ve eaten crab before,” she laughed.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Not raw ones.”

“We’ll build a fire.”

“Fine,” Angel sighed.

They spent the afternoon digging a pit and gathering driftwood. Gradually, the sky changed, the only signal that any time had passed at all. It was not something he felt within himself. Though the sun had set, the white light remained on the horizon. Every so often, he’d eye it nervously. Nyx seemed to pay it no mind, chatting away cheerfully the entire time. Restlessness settled into him. There was somewhere he was supposed to be.

I don’t want to leave. I like it here.

Angel struggled to ignite the fire with his stolen lighter, while Nyx sat and watched. Urgency made him fumble. He had to get it lit. A chill crept in, and despite the air having no quality of temperature, he was suddenly quite cold. Frigid even.

The fire rose, dancing in Nyx’s eyes. Stars glittered across the darkened sky. Still the light waited. It sat over the water, just brighter than the moon. There was no warmth in the flames.

“I think we should go home soon.” Nyx hugged her knees, looking around at the pitch dark beach. The only light was shared between the two of them around the fire.

“I think I should stay,” said Angel. “Julian doesn’t want me anyways.”

“So you’re just gonna let me and Alistair live without you because of stupid ol’ Julian?”

“No, not just because of him. I dunno…” He hung his head and poked at the fire with a scraggly stick. The sparks spit and fluttered.

I disappoint people.

“Please come with me Angel,” Nyx pleaded. “Please don’t make me walk home alone in the dark.”

He looked up to meet her eyes. Terror etched in her irises and his heart lurched.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

They stood up. She took his cold hand and together, they walked along the sand. The roar of the waves gradually ebbed into the rumble of an engine.

Nyx stared at him from the other side of the backseat. Her eyes were full of the same terror he’d seen on the beach. Mascara and eyeliner smeared across her face, mingling with the streaks of blood on her cheeks. Fear gripped him, worried it was hers. The tight crusted layer of blood coating his chest made him realize it was his own instead.

I'm fine. Better than ever really, so where did all of this blood come from and why does she look so devastated and awe stricken? Why is Cassie peering at me from the driver's seat like I have ten heads?

"What the fuck?" he gasped. "Was I fucking dead?"

"I - I think so," said Nyx. Her voice was low and hoarse. She threw herself against him and he reflexively hugged her, still reeling and numb. Her tears were wet against his bare chest. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," he said.

"Should we - should we still go to the clinic?" Cassie asked.

Nyx pulled away to look up at his face, her body still pressed close. She pinched Angel's cheeks, turning his head side to side. "How are you feeling?"

"Good. Really good actually," he said, squirming away from her grip. Even the dull ache he felt earlier that evening had disappeared. "I don't think there's any need for the clinic. I'd only be wasting Dr. McGill's time."

"Maybe you should, just to be safe?" Cassie suggested.

Nyx nodded, wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"No." Chills settled in and he trembled, cold despite the summer humidity. "I wanna go home. We can figure something out in the morning."

Cassie pulled the car onto the road and continued toward the village. Respecting Angel's wishes, she turned down the backroads toward his cabin.

"Are you sure?" Nyx asked.

He nodded. Then he noticed how the wound on his chest had disappeared. The skin was completely smooth, without so much as a scar. Only the blood remained. Ice slithered into his veins. His pulse pattered at the base in his throat.

"I've only seen something like that once before," said Nyx. "When Ivy came to the island that day."

A shiver rippled up his spine. "That's an incredibly rare ability, and so far as anyone knows, she's the only one to ever be born with it. How could I have it and not know all this time?"

"You've never been dead before," said Nyx. "How should we know how this works? It's not like Ivy is a chatterbox."

"You're resilient right?" Cassie asked. "Maybe that has something to do with it? Daisy can't even read your emotions. Maybe energy stuff doesn't mesh well with your body or something?"

Angel considered it. Daisy was frustrated to no end that she couldn't get a handle on him when she easily read everyone else. He was the only one on the island capable of lying to her and that alone was enough to drive her batty. She had mentioned on several occasions that this had annoyed her about his mother Ember as well, so perhaps there was truth to Cassie's theory.

They made it to his cabin and parked in the driveway. The small blue house was in darkness, looking lonelier than ever. Nyx and Cassie followed him out of the car.

"It's ok," Angel said. "Maybe you two should head home. I'm only gonna go to bed."

"No way am I leaving you alone after that.” Nyx clung to him like a burdock, wrapping her arms tight around his waist.

The warm wind was refreshing against his too hot skin. He was torn between needing comfort and wanting to be alone. Nyx and Cassie followed him inside through the backdoor. He didn't protest.