The Sea Dawg rocked on the Atlantic.

  Frankie tossed her towel on the hot deck. Smoothed it flat with her foot. The boards burned against her soles. She dropped onto the red fabric, bikini straps digging into her shoulders from three hours of baking. Spring Break. Finally.

  No homework. No crowded hallways. No monsters.

  She tilted her face toward the sun. Let the heat sink into her skin. Her muscles unknotted for the first time in months. Out here, the only thing she had to fight was deciding which SPF to ignore.

  A few feet away, Ted crouched on his knees. He balanced a potato chip on his palm.

  “Come on, birdie,” he said, his voice low. “Eat the chip. Eat the chip.”

  The seagull cocked its head. Stared at the chip.

  Frankie watched through half-closed eyes. The bird’s shadow danced across the deck.

  “Ted, it isn’t a dog,” Dee Dee said. She didn’t glance up from her book. Mysteries of Lost Ships.

  “Shhhh!” Ted said. “You’ll scare him away.”

  “You’re the one scaring him. Waving a mountain of carbs at the poor thing.”

  The seagull flapped its wings. Snatched the chip. Gone.

  Ted wobbled. Fell forward. His hands shot out and caught the railing.

  A laugh escaped Dee Dee. “Nice one.”

  “I almost got him!”

  “But the ocean almost got you.”

  “The railing got me.”

  “And a lawsuit almost got you when you fell off Damon’s boat.”

  Ted flopped toward her. Snatched a pretzel from her bag. “Reading makes you boring.”

  “Reading makes me smart.”

  “A smart aleck.”

  “Thanks for the compliment.”

  Frankie smiled, letting their voices wash over her. A warmth spread through her chest, deeper than the sun’s heat. This was real. This was what she fought for.

  Footsteps approached. A shadow fell over her.

  “Hey, my vampire queen.”

  She opened one eye. Damon towered over her in tropical swim trunks, his dreadlocks tied back. He held up a bottle of sunblock. Grinning.

  “Want more?” he asked.

  Frankie pushed herself up on her elbows. “You know I’m basically fireproof now.”

  “Not from a heatstroke.”

  He sat down next to her. Squeezed lotion into his right hand. She turned, offering her back. His warm hands worked on her shoulders. Gentle. His fingers traced the curves of her shoulder blades, down her spine.

  She closed her eyes.

  “Mmmmmmmh, you are spoiling me,” she said.

  “That’s the idea.”

  A shiver ran through her. Not from cold.

  “Are you still ticklish?” he asked.

  Frankie’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t you dare—”

  He grabbed her foot. Flicked her sole with one finger.

  She laughed and jerked her leg away. “You weirdo!”

  He laughed. “You know I had to check.”

  She shoved him. “You’re bad.”

  “Sexy bad.”

  “I guess.”

  He leaned forward. Kissed her. Slow. Sweet. Salt and cinnamon sunscreen mixed.

  “Gross,” Dee Dee said without looking up. “Get a room you two.”

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  “It’s a cabin, sweetheart,” Ted said.

  Frankie pulled away. Giggled. “You two are a pain.”

  “Including you, making out on a sailboat,” Dee Dee said.

  Damon laughed. Brushed Frankie’s hair off her face. She caught his hand. Rubbed it.

  “You… I don’t want this to end,” she said.

  “You mean Spring Break?”

  “This.” She stared at the vast blue. “Out here. No monsters. No drama.”

  He rubbed her hand. “Two more days. Then it’s back to the Bay.”

  Frankie sighed. She leaned against his chest. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

  Damon smiled. Rubbed her cheek. “When the time comes.”

  Frankie hoped it wouldn’t take long. Two days. She’d take what she could get.

  But as the afternoon wore on, the sun seemed to sink faster than it should. The light changed. Went thin. Stretched the shadows longer across the deck.

  The seagulls stopped circling.

  Frankie sat up straighter. Scanned the sky.

  Empty.

  Weird.

  She shook her head. Paranoia. Had to be. The ocean was calm. The boat swayed in a slow, easy rhythm. Nothing wrong.

  She forced herself to lie back down.

  She strained to hear. The slap of water against the hull. A distant bird. Anything. There was nothing. The silence wasn’t empty. It was heavy. A weight in her ears.

  The sun bled out. A thin orange line. Then rust.

  The light didn’t fade. It drained. Like something was drinking it.

  A chill hit her skin. Frankie grabbed her towel. Pulled it tight. The air bit at her arms, her neck.

  The warmth was gone.

  Something new took its place. A taste on her tongue.

  Copper. Old ice.

  Ted and Dee Dee sat at the table bolted to the deck, working through grilled hamburgers. Frankie stayed standing. She sucked on a plastic pouch of synth blood. The metallic tang slid down her throat. Didn’t help. Her muscles stayed coiled. Her fangs tingled in her gums.

  Her eyes stayed on the water.

  Too still.

  Like the ocean was holding its breath.

  “Is it me, or did it just get colder?” Ted rubbed his arms.

  “Yeah.” Frankie didn’t stop watching the horizon. Nothing out there. Only water. Dark water stretching flat as glass. The muscles in her back went tight. Her fangs ached, a low throb in her gums. Wrong. This was all wrong. Something about the way the waves had stopped moving. The way the sunset had bled out instead of fading natural.

  Dee Dee frowned at the sky. “Thought we were supposed to have clear weather through the weekend.”

  “We are.” Ted glanced at his phone. “Says seventy-two degrees right now.”

  Frankie’s breath misted in front of her face.

  Not seventy-two.

  Dee Dee noticed. Her eyes widened. “Okay, what the—”

  “Apps are trash,” Ted muttered. He shoved his phone in his pocket. Grabbed his hoodie.

  Damon came up beside Frankie. Hands in his pockets. He studied her face.

  “You sense something?” he asked.

  She flinched. The cold. The water. No waves. No birds. No sound. Her instincts screamed run, but there was nowhere to run. They were twenty miles from shore on a forty-foot sailboat.

  “It’s nothing,” she said.

  “I know you, Frankie—”

  “I said it’s nothing.”

  She didn’t want to ruin this. Two days left. Two more days before they went back. Before the staking and the blood feuds and the supernatural politics returned. She wouldn’t let some creeping dread poison the only vacation she’d had in two years.

  Maybe it was nothing. Maybe the ocean ran cold sometimes. Maybe birds roosted early.

  Maybe she was paranoid.

  Damon shrugged. He didn’t leave. His shoulder pressed against hers. Warm. Solid.

  “If something’s wrong—”

  “I’ll say something.” She softened her voice. Leaned into him. “Promise.”

  He kissed the top of her head.

  The stars came out. One by one. Cold and distant.

  Frankie watched them appear. Counted them. Tried to calm the static buzzing under her skin.

  When the cold became unbearable, they went below.

  Frankie lay in the small cabin with Damon’s arm across her waist. The boat swayed. Rhythmic. She listened to his breathing. Steady. Calm.

  Her eyes stayed open.

  Above, Ted and Dee Dee occupied the other cabin. Ted’s muffled laughter bled through the thin walls. Dee Dee kept shushing him. Their voices were normal. Safe. Human.

  The cold hadn’t left. Worse—it had grown. Her skin prickled. Her fangs ached in her gums. She’d fed an hour ago. Shouldn’t be hungry. Shouldn’t be twitchy.

  She rolled onto her side. Pressed her face into Damon’s chest. Breathed him in. Tried to focus on his heartbeat instead of the wrongness creeping through the walls.

  Two more days.

  Two more days of this. Of him. Of quiet.

  She could ignore the cold for two more days.

  You’re being paranoid. You survived a vampire and a wereshark. You can survive a chilly night.

  Her fingers curled into his shirt.

  It’s nothing. Just ocean stuff. Weather stuff. Normal stuff.

  She forced her eyes shut.

  Sleep came. Slowly. Her dreams were fragments. Teeth in the dark. Cold hands pulling her down. Water filling her lungs.

  She woke halfway. Damon’s arm tightened around her waist.

  “S’okay,” he mumbled. Half asleep.

  She nodded. Closed her eyes again.

  Outside, the water moved.

  No wind.

  No sound.

  A shadow passed overhead. Vast. Formless. It blotted out the stars one by one.

  It rose from the deep.

  Silent.

  The Sea Dawg rocked. Once. Twice.

  Frankie’s eyes snapped open.

  She held her breath. Listened.

  Just the boat. The water sloshing against the hull.

  Then she felt it. A low vibration through the deck. A hum that wasn’t a sound. It was a presence. Rising from the deep.

  Outside, the darkness wrapped around the boat.

  It tightened.