Chapter One

There had been four reported sightings of the Loch Ness monster in Loch Lomond within a week. And, on a small island north of Bowmore, Scotland, local fishermen swore to the existence of mermaids.

That was enough to convince Mom to pack the little we owned and make a mad dash halfway across the world. Dad had no trouble with the idea, because Scotland was a paranormal investigator's paradise.

I could wrap my head around my dad’s profession of ghost hunting—but my mom’s?

She believed in mermaids, fairies, and Bigfoot, for crying out loud.

You wouldn’t think that when you looked at her. She slipped out of the cab dressed in a gray pencil skirt and a matching blazer, her long, honey-blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. Her bone-white heels crunched on the rocky driveway, resistant to any of the mud running between the crevices of the smooth stones beneath her.

No one would ever mess with her, not even Scotland’s stubborn mud. I looked like her, with the same shade of blonde hair and bottle-green eyes, but I was nowhere near as classy.

I had mud stains halfway up my pant legs and on the palms of my hands. My black Converse sneakers now had an intimate relationship with the dense, brown stuff. I tugged out my backpack from the cab’s trunk and turned to peer at my dad.

“Please tell me this is one of the stops we have to make?” I waved an arm toward the small, quaint cottage in front of us.

It stood out against the canvas of bountiful greenery, the air balmy of forest and salt water. There was a beach within walking distance, and it was the only thing I looked forward to. I've always wanted to live near the beach, but not when I had to sacrifice everything else.

Dad’s smile broadened. “Nope. This is it.”

I wanted to cry. “If I don’t have my own room this time, I’m going to run away. I’m dead serious.”

Dad placed a hand on my shoulder. “There’s a caravan in the back. All yours.”

“Good,” I breathed. Not that it was any more appealing, but at least I'd have some privacy. “So, how do we get to the shops? Do we even get mail over here?”

“We take a boat over to Bowmore and do all our shopping there. Same with our mail. We have to go into town and pick it up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I glanced over at the only other house I had seen on the island a few yards away. It was much bigger and more welcoming.

The stone path leading up toward the house was flush with clusters of pastel daylilies framed on either side. Rose vines crept up against the smooth, silver stone walls, and clouds of smoke puffed from the chimney circled by at least a dozen doves. A big part of me wished it were ours instead of the small, creaky cottage that had the potential of collapsing on top of us if anyone so much as sneezed.

We did have a pretty garden though, but it needed a lot of work. Since we were in the middle of nowhere, it looked like it was going to be the next best thing to do to pass time. That, and swimming.

I glanced back at Dad. “What about a library?”

“They have one back in town.” He gave an unsettled peek in Mom’s direction. “I’ll see if we can figure out something and get you a Kindle, load it with some books next time we get into town. It should be easier and cheaper than hauling a bunch of books on a small raft. I doubt the library would let you keep them too long anyway, and we don’t want to end up with fines, now do we?”

I sighed. The prospect of not having the internet here was painful. It was an everyday necessity, like eating or sleeping. Now getting my hands on reading material would be another problem.

This was ridiculous.

“We could get you a few computer games, too.”

“The ones I like to play require the internet, Dad,” I pointed out. “Do you think they’ll install internet on a secluded island?”

At best, we’d be lucky if we even have a cellphone signal out here.

I’ve never seen Dad look this helpless. Good. This was what they got for chugging me out of school, away from my friends, and into the middle of nowhere. He turned, picked up two suitcases, and hurried after Mom. I guessed that concluded our plan to keep me occupied while we lived here for who knows how long.

There was a loud clatter to my left. I turned to see an old man on our neighboring house’s porch, glaring like he wished a plague upon me. Though, when you thought of an old man, the first thing that came to mind was a graying, wrinkly, and fragile-looking man.

Not him.

He had got the graying part down, but he was tall and bulky, his body screaming strength and vitality like a twenty-something year old who thrived in heavy weightlifting. Take all that away, and he’d simply look like an angry Santa.

I chickened out of his death stare and scurried toward the cottage. I didn’t look back to see if he had moved or not. I had a feeling our neighbor didn’t like people much.

There went my only hope of any social interaction.

The caravan was larger than expected. It had two separate beds that could be converted into a dining area, a small shower, and a gas stove. If I wanted to use the toilet I’d have to go into the house. It didn’t bother me as much, but the prospect of needing to in the middle of the night wasn’t something I looked forward to.

I wondered if they had things like coyotes, bears, or snakes around here and shuddered. I dumped my backpack on top of the counter next to the gas stove and sighed. “One more year of putting up with this.”

Well, a little more than one year before I turned eighteen. I’d have to turn seventeen first in a few days’ time.

Happy birthday to me… I pulled a face.

“Carly,” Mom called from inside the house. There was a crashing sound, and I could hear my dad curse.

“Coming!”

Dad was crouching, picking up glass scattered across the floor when I walked into the kitchen. Mom had a broom in her hands with a dismissal look on her face.

“We should test all the shelves before putting anything on them,” she said.

“What happened?” I asked.

Mom waved a hand at a small shelf that clung with mercy to the wall with a single screw on its side. “The thing collapsed right after your dad placed all our glasses on it. All. Of. Them.”

Dad stood up from the floor. “Looks like we will be drinking out of coffee cups for the next few days.”

Mom scowled. “If we can find them.”

I took a plastic bag from the counter and bent down to pick up the larger pieces of glass.

“No need love,” Mom said. She turned, placed down the broom against the kitchen table, and picked up a small gift basket from it. “I need you to take this over to our neighbors for me please.”

I eyed the basket, thinking about the grumpy old man. “Do you need to do that? You know, not everyone is nice or like people.”

“They’re the only other people on the island. Well, except for the coast guard and the boatman as well, but it’s considered polite.”

“Mom, I don’t think…”

“Carly, please? Your dad and I have a lot of work to cover. “Mom pinned me with one of those looks that carried a warning that if I argued there would be repercussions.

“Fine,” I sighed and got up from the floor. I wiped my hands against my pant legs before taking the basket from Mom. “What do I say to him?”

Mom’s brow rose. “Him?”

“Yeah, the old man on the porch that looked like he could be the next chainsaw massacre murderer.”

“That’s not nice,” Mom grimaced. She glimpsed at Dad. “Didn’t Lachlan say a few people were living there?”

Lachlan was one of Mom’s crew members, who just like her, believed in things that didn’t exist.

“Yes. The old man? I think he said his name is Hector,” Dad turned to me. “I heard they’re nice people.”

“Right,” I said. “He could just have one of those resting bi—”

“For the love of, Carly, could you please take it to them?” Mom interrupted. “And be nice, okay?”

“Be nice. Got it.” When I turned away toward the door to hurry outside, my face soured.

There was the possibility that I was being too judgmental. I was in a foreign country, with no clue how people functioned here. He could have been curious and didn’t realize he was glaring.

I sighed, dropping my shoulders. I couldn’t believe I was letting this bother me so much.

For goodness sake, Carly, what is the worst that he could do? Bite you?

As I crossed the lawn toward our neighbor’s house, I noticed movement across the field leading toward the beach. It was the old man carrying a bucket and a fishing pole.

Relief washed over me that I didn’t have to face him directly. I could place the gift basket down in front of the door and make a run for it.

This was going to be easier than I thought.

When I was certain he was out of sight I darted toward the house, up onto the porch, and bent down to place the gift basket down on the glossy, dark wood floor.

Wood smoke and fresh pine clung in the air. The house looked warm and inviting—the kind of place I’ve longed for my entire life.

If only my parents had normal jobs and we could settle in one place for a proper amount of time.

They went out of their way to make me think we didn’t have any problems, and had given me everything I’ve ever needed, but I was well aware that they were deep in debt from all the loans they made to get us over here.

All for things that didn’t exist.

Though Mom had a side job as a telemarketer, it wasn’t going to be enough to cover everything at the end of the day.

I sat crouched for a moment, admiring the bright row of flowers sprouting from planter pots placed against the wall.

The glass bottle toppled out of the basket. I reached to pick it up and place it back, when the front door cracked open.

I closed my eyes for a second, fighting a hiss of frustration that threatened at the back of my throat.

“What are you doing?” A deep, male voice spoke.

I straightened up, about to explain myself when the words died at the tip of my tongue.

I openly gaped at him.

A pair of stunning aquamarine eyes regarded me. They were fanned with thick, charcoal lashes,skimming down my body, and slowly working their way back up. “What do you want?”

His dark brows were graceful, currently furrowed in a frown. He had incredibly pale skin, a beautiful, pearly kind of white, only bringing out the color in his eyes.

He shifted his weight, raking a hand through his short, raven hair. He must have just rolled out of bed because they were messy, and he wore  a pair of wrinkled sweats that hung low on his hips.

He wasn't wearing a shirt, revealing a body you wouldn’t generally find on a typical teenage boy around my age.

At least, that was how old I guessed him to be.

I stared at his bare chest. There should be a law against it—because oh my, it was distracting.

“Hello?” He glanced over toward our house and then back at me. “Is there some reason you’re here?”

“I’m sorry…uh,” I blinked, trying to look away but my eyes were deceitful. “I was bringing this over. My mom…” I cleared my throat. “I mean, it’s from my mom. She—”

“Tell her thanks.” He leaned with his hip against the door frame, pinning me with a glare. “But you shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m sorry if this is a bad time,” I apologised, my cheeks hot. “I just brought this over. That’s all. I’ll go now and—”

“You should tell her it’s a good idea to not bother us again. Actually,” he stepped forward. “Tell her it’s even better if you all leave.”

My mouth opened, then closed. I repeated the notion a few times before I managed to find my voice. “I’m sorry, but what did you say?”

“I’m pretty sure you heard me,” he deadpanned. “We don’t want you here on this island. You are not welcome here.”

I stepped back.“Are you always this rude?”

“Are you always so…invasive?”

“Excuse me?” I stiffened. “I brought a gift over. It’s called being polite and proper etiquette. Also, thank you are what usually suffices when someone gives you something nice.”

“Does proper etiquette involve staring?”

“You are full of yourself, aren’t you?” I huffed, my cheeks flaming. “Un-freaking-believable.”

“Right. Are you done here?”

I turned back to look at him staring at me, one of his dark brows arched. “You are one nasty piece of a human being. No wonder you live on a deserted island.”

He released a bitter laugh. “You have no idea.”

“I don’t have to have an idea. I’ve seen enough. Have a nice day, asshole.”

I pivoted around and stalked down the steps, my throat tight with anger. I’ve never in such a short amount of time felt this degraded. He was one of those people who knew they were good looking, and therefore, carried a certain sense of entitlement because of it.

Ugh.

“Hey…girl?” he called after me. “I meant what I said. We don’t want you here!”

I made a rude gesture, resulting in him laughing.

I wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible from him.

“Welcome to Scotland, Carly,” I muttered under my breath, feeling my eyes starting to burn.