Page 41 of Haunting the Deep

My heart beats a muffled thrum in my ears.

“Sam?” Jaxon says, but I’m not looking at him.

The drowned man extends his arm toward me, holding an old-fashioned dog collar in his open palm.

I stand, shoving my chair away from the table.

“Sam, what’s going on?” Jaxon asks, standing now, too.

The drowned man steps forward, pushing the dog collar at me. “Don’t be daft. Take it,” he says in an accent that sounds Irish.

I step backward, colliding with the chair. I reach for the table to steady myself but secure only the tablecloth and manage to pull it and all the food down with me as I fall.

I hit the floor so hard it knocks the wind out of me. The drowned man tosses the dog collar under the table and blinks out. Jaxon is at my side in a flash, and the whole restaurant is staring. I pluck a napkin off the floor and wrap up the collar before Jaxon can see it.

“Sam? What happened?” Jaxon helps me to my feet. “You’re bleeding.”

There’s a patch torn out of my sweater, exposing a cut. “I have to go.”

Irace down the sidewalk toward the harbor. The cold air seeps through my clothes.

“Sam!” Jaxon yells, running after me. He grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop. “What the hell just happened in there?”

I look back at the restaurant, disoriented. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Jaxon takes note of my jittery hands. He unzips his coat and puts it around my shoulders. “Let me get my truck. I’ll bring it to you.”

“Yes. No. I can’t go home yet. I don’t want my dad to see me like this. I just need a minute to think.”

Jaxon looks over his shoulder. “How about we go to my studio?”

I nod.

I follow Jaxon down the brick sidewalk through the moonlit streets and work on slowing my heart rate. He stops near a streetlamp, pulls out a key, and unlocks an old door. The house is two stories tall with charcoal-gray trim around the windows. The arched roof has dark shingles, reminiscent of a cottage, that are spotted with greenish, mossy patches, I guess from being so close to the water.

He pushes the door open.

The house has a stronger version of Jaxon’s pine scent. He flicks on a light switch and closes the door behind us.

The room has high ceilings with exposed beams, hardwood floors, and walls whose chipping paint reveals other colors behind the cream top coat. It’s filled with workbenches and beautifully carved furniture.

I run my hand along a rustic wooden table with a complicated grain.

“That’s one of my new favorites,” he says, and comes to stand next to me. “See how there are no seams? It’s one piece of wood. It took me a long time to find it. It’s the type of thing my dad used to make for my mom. I’m a…I’m giving it to her for her birthday.”

I look up at Jaxon. He rarely talks about his dad. “It’s perfect. She’ll love it.”

He beams at the compliment. “Come, sit down.”

I make my way to a navy-blue couch in front of a fireplace, and I sink into the soft cushions. He flips a switch and flames shoot up in the hearth.

I type into a group text I have with the Descendants.

Me:I just saw the drowned man again. Can we meet up sooner?

Jaxon grabs a first-aid box off the mantel and sits down next to me. “Let’s take a look at that arm.”

I slip his coat off. “Sorry I ruined our dinner.”