FIVE | ELLA'S DINER

The back of my neck prickled as I strode across the car park. The faded neon sign flashed once, and then emitted a drawn-out buzzing sound before half of the letters lit up in full. Ella’s Diner was open for business.

I’d started working here when I was sixteen, desperate to save up so that I could travel and see the world. I’d wanted to hunt then, too, with a vicious burning in my chest. My Dads had only just told me about the world they inhabited, back then, a world utterly different to the one I’d thought I’d grown up in.

They’d told me old folk tales growing up, scary stories with harsh morals that I’d assumed they’d enjoyed as nothing more than whimsy. They’d told me everything I needed to know, even as a child, filtering the information down into something palatable for a seven year old.

And then I’d learnt the truth. My sleepy hometown didn’t seem quite so safe as it once had; I was no longer seeing it through the eyes of the innocent, of a child. Darkness lurked in every alleyway, around every corner, and swam in the bubbling pits of the Falls, waiting to drag me out to the cove and swallow me in the sea.

Rather than becoming scared, I’d thrown myself into the life. My Dads had put me through every sport possible growing up: hockey, football, lacrosse, athletics, tennis, rounders, cheerleading, even roller derby, for a while. I’d taken multiple marshal arts classes, too, for as long as I could remember. It had been as easy as breathing to adapt the knowledge I already had to hunting, and then I’d started working at Ella’s.

Rather than plying me with fairy stories, my Dads had taken to recounting tales of their travels as hunters. They’d fallen in love in Paris, watching the glittering lights as they’d raced through the streets, searching for a renowned black dog that was spoken of only in riddles, for fear of attracting its attention. They’d first decided they wanted to adopt a child together in Yanagawa, where they’d been hunting a kappa. They’d made the decision firm when they were in Jodhpur, searching for a vetal that would take over corpses and haunt the souls of the living, begging to pass on from this world to the next.

I’d been fairly nonplussed when they’d told me that – the stories about Paris sounded much more pleasant – but I supposed it wasn’t as bad as their travels through the Philippines, tracking a particularly nasty manananggal who was leaving a trail of injured pregnant women behind, who would later give birth to children with grossly deformed faces. They’d told me in gruesome detail about how they’d found the detached bottom half of her body, and how it had dissolved when they’d covered it in salt and garlic.

But the gore and the guts had been part of the allure. It all seemed so exciting, compared to the small-town life I’d been leading, where the only real mystery was that of my birth parents. That was a mystery I’d put to bed fairly quickly, though; with tales of bright lights and deadly fights and good conquering evil, I didn’t see the point in worrying over what could have been.

Still, the excitement was dampened slightly as I hurried across the car park towards the diner, fumbling in my tote bag for my apron and feeling as though I was being watched. More often than not, the reality of hunting was early-morning patrols, late-night training sessions, all splintered between long shifts at the diner.

I shouldered open the door, grinning as I spotted who was leaning against the counter. 

“Hey, Grace,” I called, hurrying past her to the staff room. The diner was practically empty – I’d managed to make it in in time, just, and other than a couple of loners drinking black coffee behind their crumpled newspapers, no others customers had arrived yet. 

“Hey yourself,” she called back, squinting at my face as I bustled past. Her bright blue eyes were calculating, and I heard the sound of the coffee machine starting up as I pulled my hair back into a neat bun.

I’d traded my sodden trainers for a pair of converse, and changed out of my mud-splattered clothes in my (very) brief visit home. Harper had been half-awake and stretched out beneath the bed sheets, and he’d watched me with bleary eyes as I’d rushed around our bedroom getting dressed.

“You okay?” He’d mumbled, pulling himself up and rubbing at his lidded eyes.

“Uh. Fine,” I’d said. “Sort of. I went for a – a morning walk with my Dads, around the lake. We found a body.”

“Shit, Cals,” he’d breathed, blinking rapidly, trying to wake himself up. “Come ‘ere.”

I’d checked my watch – I’d had enough time for a cuddle, I’d supposed, if we were quick about it. Then I’d flung myself on top of him, curling up and tucking my head beneath his chin. Harper was home to me, warm and safe, and the same, prickling feeling that something was wrong had shuddered down my backbone.

“That must have been so scary,” he’d murmured, stroking my hair tenderly. I could feel the tense line of his jaw, and I felt bad for waking him up on his day off. I would have felt worse if I’d lied to him, though, so I’d let him comfort me, care for me, until I’d had to pry his gentle hands away.

“You want oat milk in this coffee?” Grace called through to the back room. I fumbled with my apron, tying it around my waist with numb fingers as I shouted back.

“Yeah, please!” I smoothed down my hair, pulling a face at my reflection in the mirror. There were bits of blue roll stuck to the corner where someone hadn’t wiped it down properly, but I wished that it hadn’t been wiped down at all. I looked gaunt – almost scary, almost as scary as the girl in the lake had – with dark circles under my eyes, my cheekbones jutting out of my face at harsh angles.

The cut down my face looked worse, if anything, swollen and bruised around its edges, red and sore down its middle. The butterfly tape was holding it together, but I’d have to get Harper to have another look at it this evening, I decided.

Falling in love with a student nurse at university hadn’t exactly been on my to-do list, but it had worked out incredibly well for me. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, smoothed out a crinkle in my little red apron, and went onto the floor to clock in.

Grace was still leaning against the counter, her eyes following my every movement as I slid my staff card down the till and hit start. Her long blonde plait slipped over her shoulder and down her back effortlessly. With her round, doe eyes and her fluttering eyelashes, her rosy-appled cheeks bright against her pale white skin, and her perfectly curved red mouth, I often thought that she looked akin to a fat Rapunzel. 

She had all the beauty of a Disney princess, but none of the grace of one – despite her name. Wordlessly, she shoved my coffee cup along the bar, eyeing my cut face with no tactful side-eye whatsoever. 

“That looks gross, Cals.”

I snorted, and took a sip of my coffee. “Thanks, Grace. It’s nice to see you too. How’s your day going?”

She huffed a laugh at that, and nodded to the almost-empty diner. It was tacky, in a 1950’s American style, with red and white checkerboard flooring, plush red seating, and wide glass windows. Our uniforms were in the same red and white colouring, with mustard yellow nametags. But there was something homely and comforting about Ella’s, despite the tackiness. Save for the tourists that came in the spring and summer to visit Seafall’s coastline, we served the same few customers every day.

“It’s going just fine, thank you. Better now you’re here, though. I had to open on my own this morning, and old Bill just couldn’t decide between pastries. Then it got quiet, and I got bored,” she shrugged.

I’d missed the early-morning rush of workers, and it would be quiet until lunchtime, now. My face was stinging, and I poked a finger at it experimentally.

“Oh my God, Callie, that’s disgusting,” Grace hissed, her lips curling downwards in distaste.

“I know,” I said, heading to the back to wash my hands. My knuckles cracked satisfyingly as I scrubbed my long, tapering fingers. 

“Does it hurt?” She asked, her tone a little softer, a little kinder.

“No,” I lied, and then I realised that, here, I had no reason to lie. I wiped my hands dry and let my shoulders slump dramatically as I came back onto the floor. “Yes. A lot. It stings. And that’s not even the worst part of my day.”

One of the newspapers on the front bar ruffled, the man – I assumed it was a man, his hands were large and round-knuckled, with short, wide fingernails – apparently listening in on our conversation.

It would be big news by lunchtime. I may as well just say it. “I found a body this morning.”

There was a collective silence, spreading rapidly across the diner. Grace raised one neatly plucked eyebrow at me; it formed a perfect dark blonde arch as she puckered her curved lips. “You did? Cals – that’s, like, scary.”

“Yeap,” I said, popping the ‘p’ sound, rocking back on my heels. “It was.”

“Well, drink your coffee, you must be in shock,” she said, eyeing me carefully, her eyebrow still raised. Then she leant in closer, dropping her voice. “Was it – were they – dead?”

I shook my head, sidling closer to her. The closest newspaper to us rustled, but I tried to ignore it. “We thought so at first. But she survived – I think. We did C.P.R., you know, mouth to mouth, and all that, and at first we thought – well, we thought we’d found her too late.” It was a relief to tell Grace, to tell someone that wouldn’t think anything more of it than a tragic accident, maybe an animal attack, even, or a random surge of violence from a drunkard. It would be gossip to her, first and foremost, though it would be tinged with sympathy.

“But?” She prompted, blue eyes wide and shining. Her interest had been piqued; I’d officially managed to make her boring shift considerably less dull. 

“But I think she’ll be okay,” I said, with a half-shrug that denoted that there wasn’t much else to tell. “She choked up a load of water, the ambulance arrived, the police asked some questions, I came to work.”

Grace scoffed at that. “I can’t believe you came into work. I’d be taking the day off if that had happened to me.”

“Yeah, well,” I laughed. “I guess I needed something to take my mind off it.”

The newspaper closest to us rustled again. I slid my eyes over to Grace, catching her gaze and inclining my head towards our eavesdropper. These hands looked younger, smoother, slimmer, with white skin so pale that it appeared lighter than the greying pages of the newspaper they held.

I could see a tousled mop of dark hair, swept in what was probably meant to be a careless, casual style, though it had the artful appearance of something that had been arranged purposefully. The prickling sensation at the back of my neck returned with a vengeance, and I had to stifle a shudder at the feeling.

Grace nodded at me, signalling to me wildly with her eyes and eyebrows. My lips curled inward, holding in a laugh, and I sidled up to the newcomer. His hands looked too young to be any of our regulars, and he was clearly listening in. I had no qualms about calling him out on it; it would be a proper, good old small-town welcome. There were no secrets in Seafall; news spread fast amongst friends.

I grabbed the coffee jug and sidled over to him. “Hi. Excuse me, Sir, can I get you some more coffee?”

“Why, that would be lovely,” he said. His voice was rich and warm, almost old-fashioned in tone and pace. He spoke slower than any of the boys I’d known, even the intelligent, articulate ones I’d debated with over drinks at university. The newspaper hovered for just a second too long, and I felt a pit of anticipation building in my stomach, circling through my veins.

Then the newspaper dropped, and I had to scramble to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.