Making an effort to steady her hand, Madeleine managed to get the light onto the horse’s face, flashing the beam over its eyes. The horse stopped in place, closed its eyes, and shook its head.

It also bared its teeth.

Its long, pointed teeth.

Madeleine’s hand began shaking again, so badly that she nearly dropped the phone a second time, and the flashlight beam dipped away from the horse. She’d seen enough, though. She’d seen that its flesh was a pale blue color, that its eyes were bright yellow, and that it had sharp teeth. This was not a normal horse. And in this place, at this time, only one possibility suggested itself.

“You were the horse under the dock,” she said raggedly. “The one I drowned.”

The horse’s long, black tail flickered. It looked an awful lot like confirmation.

“Oh God.” Madeleine clutched the collar of her jacket. “You’re a ghost or something.”

But that couldn’t be, could it? Horses couldn’t become ghosts, because animals didn’t have souls. Doctrine was clear on that.

Doctrine seemed to have little bearing on what stood before her now.

The horse took a step forward. Madeleine took a corresponding step backward. She was past the rocks now, and onto the sand at the water’s edge.

“Are you angry?” she managed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to help.”

The horse kept coming forward. Madeleine kept moving backward. But there was nothing behind her save for the sea. There was nowhere to go.

“I didn’t know you’d drown. I thought you could swim. How else could you have gotten under the dock?”

The horse made a soft, low sound. It wasn’t a neigh or any other noise she knew horses could make.

It was a growl.

Her blood ran colder than the North Sea. Madeleine gasped, “Oh Lord, Blessed Virgin, protect me. Listen, you—you stay right there, you⁠—”

She stepped back. The heel of her shoe hit the water, which lapped around her foot, soaking frigidly into her sneaker.

Should have worn those rain boots, she thought nonsensically. Becca’s going to fuss at me about that.

No, Becca wouldn’t. Madeleine was never going to see Becca again because she was going to die on this beach, her beach, murdered by a horse ghost. She had to be dreaming. This was the worst nightmare she’d ever had.

“I was trying to save you!” she cried.

The horse stopped in place.

“You were caught up, remember? In that dock?” She tried to raise the phone again to use the flashlight. Her arm wouldn’t move. “I only wanted to set you free.”

The horse turned its huge head. It made no sound as it cast its gaze over the darkness of the sea. Its tail twitched, and it stomped one hoof against the stones, as if agitated.