Bluedawn (A Watermagic Novel, #2) (8 page)

I got off the pullout bed and poured out my
mother’s makeup bag on the counter of the vanity nook. With that, I
sat down on the built in swivel stool and started decorating my
face. I wasn’t so good at it, but at least I should get an “A” for
effort.

My eyelids were a bit too grey and sparkly,
but the rose lipstick and mascara looked good enough. I brushed my
stringy hair and in the florescent overhead lights, it looked
almost golden with soft waves—finally a good hair night.

Though we were about the same size, my mom
was much more of a girly girl than me, always ready for a night on
the town. I opened the small closet behind the vanity and picked
out one of her dresses. From my recollection, the long sleeveless
pink one clung to my shape in just the right way. I pulled it on
over my bathing suit.

All dressed and ready to go, I grabbed the
flashlight and stepped out of the motorhome. It was almost pitch
black outside. The clouds had drifted back over the stars and now a
light fog waded over the ground. I could hear the distant sounds of
waves rolling on the shore and the faint rhythmic beats of drums
coming from the beach.

As I started to walk down the motorhome
steps, I noticed a subtle aroma of pine in the misty air. From my
recollection there weren’t many trees of that type at the
campground. There were mostly oaks, manzanita, and eucalyptus. The
scent distinctly reminded me of Dylan and the spray he had spritzed
on himself at the market earlier.

I heard a noise from within the forest to my
side. It sounded like the snap of a tree branch. My body tensed.
Was it Ranger Mike, the serial killer, or the wild animal that
ravaged the boys at the cove?

My mind started to race. I could feel my
heart pounding in my chest. Images of the boys I had seen on the
missing sign at the market flashed in my thoughts. I imagined their
poor bodies torn to shreds, wide terrified eyes, blood everywhere.
To die like that would be gruesome. My parents would be
devastated.

Suddenly, I heard another sound. It was much
faster and approaching quickly. I hardly had time to think.

Somebody was running through the woods. Dried
leaves crushed under feet. There was a great rush.

At once, I turned to the motorhome door and
tried to unlock it. My fingers fumbled with the keys. I dropped
them. I leaned over to pick them up, but I couldn’t see them in the
dark. I felt around for them on the motorhome steps as fast as I
could.

I got them. Quickly, I picked up the keys and
tried them in the lock. But before I could get it open. The
footsteps got closer and then sprang on me. I fell to the
ground.

I screamed bloody hell. I felt his cold teeth
on my cheek. A tongue slobbered across my face. I tried desperately
to scramble to my feet.

But then, there was a whimper and my hands
caught in the thick fur. It was only Spike, the wolf-dog. He was
greeting me.

“Spike! Oh, you nearly scared me to death.” I
moved out from under him and stood up, dusting off my mother’s
dress with my hand.

In the dark and mist he was hardly visible,
but I could hear him panting. I patted his ruffled fur and he
whimpered again.

“What’s wrong, guy?” There was something
sticky and wet on my hand. I touched the wolf again and felt the
wetness.

His panting ceased for a moment as he jumped
to the side skittishly. He growled at something in the forest.

In my fall, the flashlight had dropped from
my hands. Some luck I was having. I bent over and felt around on
the ground, but I couldn’t find it.

Spike took off running back through the
woods. I kept feeling around for the flashlight. My hands brushed
over stones, pebbles and dirt. Finally, I found it next to the
front tire of the motorhome. It must have rolled over there in my
fall.

I pressed the switch and shined it over the
campsite. Near where I had tumbled was a cluster of feathers. I
walked over to it. The feathers were partially covered in blood and
attached to a chunk of flesh! I threw it to the ground in
horror.

What the hell was that?

I started to think it over. The wolf must
have killed a bird and then carried a piece of it over to my
campsite.

I shined the light on the mass again. The
feathers were the stone blue color of the ocean and unusually long.
Probably a large predatory bird of some sort. I laughed at myself
for getting so frightened. Darkness can provoke crazy thoughts.

After a deep inhalation, I decided to head
for the beach as planned. I felt stupid for getting all worked up
over nothing. Following the distant drumbeats, I crossed the
campground and descended the rock stairwell to the beach. The
bonfire flamed in the distance a gentle orange red.

I took my sandals off and walked along the
foggy shoreline enjoying the feel of the damp sand on my feet.
Intuitively, I felt like I should turn back and just wait in the
motorhome for my parents to return from their night out. But I
brushed that thought away like sand in the wind more intent on
escaping my mental turmoil over Dylan.

Looking ahead, I noticed that the crowd of
kids thinned out and that the atmosphere around the bonfire seemed
more intimate. I could only see silhouettes of bodies and couldn’t
make out any faces. I wondered who was there and if I would be
intruding on a private party now.

As I drew closer, I saw a few shirtless boys
with perfect physiques playing hand drums, two of them I recognized
as Dylan’s friends that I saw the first day before the mini-market.
They were extraordinarily attractive, but had a sort of dangerous
air. Wren and Lyra lied on their stomachs painting their nails. Gia
was nowhere in sight.

With the drummers stunning looks and cool
charisma, I wasn’t too surprised they beat out Logan, Jeff, and DJ
on getting the hot girls. These boys looked tough and wild. And
their hotness matched that of the young women.

Hesitantly I approached, against my better
judgment. If I wasn’t feeling so out of control, I would have been
more afraid that the blond guy might remember me and say something
rude again to me. But with my mixed up emotions, I figured I’d risk
a little humiliation.

“Hi,” Lyra sang. “It’s Hailey.” She looked at
everybody. “So glad you came back.” Her voice was enchanting. And
her long jet black hair draped over her body like a silky
blanket.

I don’t think I could ever get used to
looking at her or any of the kids before me for that matter. What
was with this beach and gorgeous teenagers? My average looks and
demeanor stood out like a sore thumb amongst these beauties.

Wren was staring at me with her intense blue
eyes. “Please sit down and join us.”

The boys continued to play their drums while
talking amongst each other occasionally. Their hard eyes were
glassy blues and greens like the colors of the sea and their hair
was ruffled from the wind.

Wren tossed her long golden hair over one
shoulder trying not to mess her wet fingernails as she sat up. “Sit
by me.” Her smile was surprisingly cutesy. She was very
likeable.

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you
guys. I was bored at our motorhome.” I sat down beside Wren facing
the fire across from the boys. Really I wasn’t in the mood to spend
time with them. All I could think about was Dylan. Seeing these
guys just made me long for him more.

“Of course,” Wren smiled as she waved her wet
nails in the air. They shimmered by the light of the fire. “We were
disappointed when you left so abruptly earlier.

“Where is Gia?” I asked. My curiosity was
getting the best of me.

Wren and Lyra looked at each other. For a
moment they didn’t say anything.

“She’s out there,” Lyra finally said as she
pointed at the ocean.

I scrunched my eyebrows together. “What do
you mean?” My shoulders shrugged involuntarily. “Is she out on a
boat?”

They laughed.

“No,” Lyra said, suppressing her amusement as
best she could. “She’s swimming.” Her voice was matter of fact.

My eyes widened. “Swimming?”

They laughed again.

“We love to swim at night,” Wren explained.
“Have you ever done it?”

I half rolled my eyes. “No.” I lied about
that. Mom was the only person I knew who swam in the ocean at night
and she liked to drag Dad and me along with her.

“It’s entirely thrilling,” Lyra murmured.
“Swimming in the black ocean under a dark sky is spooky, yet
exciting.

I shrugged again, considering the dangers
before I changed the subject. “Where are you guys camping? I didn’t
notice you at the campground.” I looked at both Lyra and Wren and
couldn’t help but admire Wren’s abalone shell necklace that gleamed
many colors in the firelight.

“We just sleep wherever.” Wren sort of
giggled when she said that. She repositioned a string of pearls in
her hair.

“You mean right here?”

Lyra sat up. I was surprised to see that she
was only wearing a flesh colored bikini and a string of jewels
around her waist. For a second I thought she was naked. “Five star
hotels are nice…” she laughed through the drumbeats, “…but we
prefer to sleep in natural environments.”

“I like to stare at the sky as I fall
asleep.” Wren tilted her delicate chin upwards, looking at the full
moon overhead. “Do you like to fly?” she asked in her soft melodic
voice.

Her question caught me off guard. “When my
parents and I take plane trips, I mostly just watch the movies and
eat a lot of junk food.”

Both she and Lyra laughed at my response.
Their voices were as charming as song birds.

“What about you? Do you like to fly?” I asked
both of them. The conversation seemed a little strange to me, but I
just decided to go with it.

“We fly all the time…” Lyra said, “…but we
are really into watching the sites. There’s a small island out
yonder…” she pointed toward the ocean before us. “It’s lined in
craggy rocks, but beyond are the most beautiful fields of
flowers…”

Wren interrupted excitedly, “We love to sleep
there surrounded in vibrant colors and floral scents.” She exhaled
and shook her head slightly like she was reliving a dream in her
mind.

“Everybody’s got their quirks,” Wren sighed
now, making fun of herself. “We’re nature freaks, I suppose.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I encouraged, genuinely
longing to experience their world. I found their lifestyle
surprising. Television usually depicted beautiful people as
materialistic socialites, shopping all day, partying all night.
Wren and Lyra weren’t anything like I imagined. They weren’t the
90210 girls as one might have expected.

I liked their oddities, as Wren described
them. To me, idiosyncrasies were of poignant interest;
contradictions tended to fascinate my generally bored mind. The
more I got to know them, the more I wanted to know.

“Here comes the others,” Lyra mumbled in a
guarded voice.

I looked out at the ocean and saw both Gia
and Dylan coming out of the water. The waves splashed over them
from behind. Dylan put his hand on Gia’s back to steady her.

My heart sank. I couldn’t believe what I was
seeing. I must have been right when I suspected that Dylan had
returned to the bonfire to win over one of the beautiful girls. Now
he was with Gia and they had been swimming alone in the ocean the
entire time I was talking with Wren and Lyra. They were probably
making out under the starry sky.

I felt so stupid. And more than that, I was
angry. He should have been straight with me.

When Gia and Dylan walked up to the fire,
Dylan didn’t even seem surprised to see me. For a second his eyes
widened when he glanced at me, maybe because of the dress and
makeup, but he quickly seemed to lose interest.

“It’s great out there,” he mumbled to the
others, ignoring me. His wet body looked as gorgeous as ever.
Goosebumps lifted on my chest when he ran his fingers through his
wet hair.

I had to get away. It was too painful seeing
Dylan with Gia. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I felt betrayed.

“Take me to that island with the flowers,” I
blurted out to Wren and Lyra.

“Oh, no—we can’t,” Wren said. She looked at
Lyra.

“Damn right you can’t,” Dylan responded
harshly.

Gia laughed as she draped her fiery red hair
over the front of her bikini top. “That’s Dylan’s and my island.”
Her voice, as enchanting as it was, crushed my heart.

“Maybe we should take her.” Lyra’s expression
looked amused. “We like Hailey.”

“I don’t like her,” Dylan said harshly.

“I don’t care what you like,” I snapped back
at Dylan. “If you’re not going to take me, I’ll find it myself.”
With that, I wiggled out of my mother’s dress and rushed out to the
ocean, running through the small waves. I tried to hold back the
tears, but I couldn’t stop them. A big, frothy wave broke over me
and I dove in, swimming farther and farther out, until the wake
relaxed in the dark glossy water.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Death, in itself, is nothing; but we
fear,

To be we know not what, we
know not where.
–John Dryden, 
Aureng-Zebe

I took in a jagged breath—my emotions were
aflame. The full moon was overhead with millions of stars twinkling
on the black surface. How could Dylan be so cruel?

It was so quiet far out in the ocean like
that. I was so alone and one with the world now. Oh, how much I
hated Dylan Masters.

“Stop these horrible thoughts,” I told
myself.

With that, I tried to drown out my emotions
by swimming as fast and far as I could. The ocean seemed endless.
My body ached, but I pushed myself further. The tedious motions of
my arms lifting over my head and down into the water as I moved
forward in the crawl stroke, tired me both mentally and physically.
I wanted to stop.