It was a start, but she had to lure him past that beach. If she could draw him close enough to the village, he’d probably get the idea of filching a boat and rowing out to her. As long as he stayed on land there wasn’t much she could do, but in the water she was far stronger than any human.

Our beach, he’d said.

When she’d seen him before, he’d called her evil and sick. A monster. And much as it had hurt her to hear him say that, Luce found herself wishing urgently that he would lash her with insults again.

It would be so much better than the way he was acting now. Almost as if they were friends.

∗ ∗ ∗

She was there way ahead of him, waiting. She didn’t slip behind the boulder he’d mentioned, though. Instead she floated in place offshore where he would see her as soon as he came out from the woods but far enough out that he wouldn’t be able to speak to her without shouting. The fog was pressing in on the coast and a midnight-colored haze swallowed the cliffs where he’d stood minutes before. She could barely hear the crunch and scuffle of his steps as he leaped out from the shadow of the trees, almost falling as the stones skidded away beneath him, and gazed wildly around the beach.

Luce forced herself to wave, once and then again. The second time he saw her. She could see the sweep of his arm as he beckoned to her, but she stayed where she was, riding the swell of the sea.

He looked in the direction of the village, toward her again, then toward the encroaching fog. She could almost see the thoughts forming in his head: he could steal a boat, but would he be able to find her in the mist? Luce gathered her voice and let out a long, sweet note, music that sounded like shimmering light, like a gliding wing. It wasn’t the beginning of the death song, but a musical beacon, just loud enough for him to hear. Would he understand?