A thing beyond which—out on the catwalk—stood Amelia: barefoot but wrapped in the keeper’s bathrobe; facing away from the black light and myself; facing the sea which rose up and crashed on the rocks.
I circled around toward her but paused, gripping the doorframe. “H-Hello? Amelia? What—what are you doing out there? Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond, only continued facing the sea (and the seabirds, which swirled like moths), her hair whipping and lashing—pulsing and glowing—appearing as though it were on fire as I crept onto the catwalk and approached her with caution. As she dropped the robe from her body—revealing herself to be completely nude—and I reached for her shoulder, slowly turning her around.
At which she said, “Careful, it’ll eat your eyes,” and looked up at me with eyes tha
