Page 21 of The Sixth Spring

But everything was still, uninterrupted. The second excavator was collapsed back on its side like it had been last night.

“This is crazy,” he whispered to himself. He scanned the water over and over again, but nothing moved. There were no red eyes in the dark.

He hated the disappointment that there was nothing to see. He shouldn’t want to see it again, after it had attacked him.

But.

Before it had bit him, it had touched him and looked at him in a way no one else ever had before. The creature had treated Will like he was something to be considered. Like he was worth attention and pleasure.

Even Mrs. Greenfeld, who was nice to him and tipped well, never really saw Will. She saw who he was to her. She saw his usefulness, and she tipped him because he was a tool she needed to use.

Will turned around, hating the hot prickle in the corners of his eyes. It was so stupid to be upset about this. About the monster that had attacked him not being here now.

His father had warned him, hadn’t he? About loneliness. How it festered and ruined a man. Will hadn’t listened because he’d been too suffocated in that doublewide and had needed to get out. But was this what he’d meant? A new kind of rot that–

He shoved that thought away, hands finding his jeans and rubbing against the fabric in agitation. A hum started up in his mouth, the familiar tune he always kept close. It helped keep back the panic, filling the gaping hole that lived inside him.

Behind him, water swirled.

Will froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He felt eyes, suddenly, on him. The feeling of being watched.

A low, hissing word followed.

“Wait.”

Chapter 6

Will whipped around, eyes searching the dark waters for the sound.

He caught on a glint of red.

And there it was. There he was.

A head, just above the water. Cascading locks of hair swirled behind him as he swam toward the road.

“Wait,” he said again when Will took a fumbling step backward in disbelief.

Will realized then that he was speaking English. An accented, heavily-sibilated English, but still English.

“You can speak?” Will asked, more bewildered than frightened.

The creature got closer, swimming through the roadside ditch, starting to heft himself up onto the road.

Will’s knees wobbled, like he wanted to run. He stayed.

The creature got onto his feet, naked except for the strips of cloth still tied around his leg. The remnants of Will’s shirt.

It was tall, a head or more taller than Will, who hadn’t been short since he was a kid. And he definitely had a tail, something almost as long as his legs. It looked like it would belong on an alligator.

“Yes,” the creature said. He gestured from himself to Will. “I took your language.”

“What?”

The creature made an expression, almost like he was thinking. Then he touched his mouth, then shoulder. “The bite and the exchange.”

The bite.

“I–what?” Thoughts were zipping inside Will’s head. That–that had been real?