Soon he’d met Isabel, and together they’d made their lives in the lighthouse. Zek forgot about Neptune’s bargain - pushing it far back into his mind - and instead thought himself the luckiest man in the world; he’d survived a shipwreck and found love. But what he didn’t realize was that it wasn’t luck at all. Neptune was simply waiting until Zek had something in his possession that the god wanted for himself.
Now he lifted his head from his hands and tried to focus. The Sorceress
had told him she would send him back, and he must save all those lost lives and capture the monster. But he’d failed once. How could he change the outcome this time?
He blinked again, and realized he was in the stairwell of the lighthouse, his lighthouse, gazing through the thick glass porthole. Outside it was a fine day, the sun shining like the blade of a sword through a gap in the clouds, and turning the dark seething seawater to brilliant emerald. Towards the horizon he could see rain approaching, the edge of a storm.
There was a sense of something else approaching, something as old as the ocean itself. Neptune knew he was back, and it wouldn’t be long until the monster came calling.
Zek began to climb the stairs, around and up, until he reached the trapdoor. It was closed but not bolted from above, and when he heaved at it the door lifted. He climbed through and at last he was standing in the room that housed the very heart of the lighthouse - the lantern room.
It was like a living thing. The reflectors and the lamps revolved within their frame, flashing light that could be seen many miles out to sea. He had worked day and night to keep the oil up to the wicks, the wicks trimmed and the reflectors clean. He’d known how important his job was. At night, Isabel had come with him, sitting and watching, her face dreamy in the starlight. They’d talked about their plans, about their life together, never imagining it could end so soon.
Now, as he looked about the lantern room, everything appeared the same. When he peered through the windows towards Neptune’s Bay, he saw that the rain had closed in. He started to pace around the light, as he used to, lost in his own thoughts.
Izzy unlocked the lighthouse door. The wood was thick and marked by time, and sometimes the damp warped it so that it stuck at the bottom. Today was one of those days, and she used her shoulder to force it open. The air inside was cool and still, and the portrait met her gaze from the opposite wall. As if he’d been waiting for her.
“Good morning, Zek,” she said softly.
Good morning, Isabel.
“I dreamed about you again. At least, I think it was a dream.”
Tell me about it.
“There was a storm and the steamer was heading for the rocks and then the sea monster came up out of the waves and I knew you were going to die. I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want you to leave me.”
The portrait seemed to understand.
“And then, this morning, it was as if you were there with me, in my bed. How can that be?”
He had no answer.
“I feel so lonely here without you,” she whispered. “I don’t care if you are a dream, I want you back.”
There was a sound.
Startled, Isabel looked up.
There it was again - a thumping noise. The sound of the trapdoor into the lantern room closing! Even as Izzy began to move towards the stairs, she heard footsteps coming down. There was someone else in the lighthouse.
The hairs rose on her arms despite her warm sweater. She was unable to move, her feet rooted to the floor, as the steps came closer. A hand rested on the railing above her, a masculine hand. Suddenly, now she could move. Fear sent her stumbling towards the door, her hands grasping for the latch, but the warped wood was stuck fast. She heaved at it, gasping, making little sounds of terror. It wouldn’t budge.
The man was coming closer, his steps echoing throughout the lighthouse like approaching thunder.
Izzy spun around, her back to the door, ready to fight for her life, just as he came around the last twist in the stairs. He was breathing quickly, his chest rising and falling. She saw it all: the eyepatch, the old-fashioned clothes, the so-familiar face.
“Isabel?” he said, and his voice was exactly as she heard it in her dreams.
Zek Cole was standing before her and he was smiling, his drawn face alight at the sight of her. He knew her, just as she knew him.
“How can this be?” she managed. “You’re really here.”
“I really am,” he said softly, as if afraid he might send her running in terror. “The Sorceress is the queen of time and, if she wishes it, time can be made meaningless. She’s brought us together again.”
“Again? But I’m not your wife . . .” Then why did she feel as if she was?
“You are my wife.” He said it fiercely. “The Sorceress told me you had been reborn, while I remained sleeping in the between-worlds, but it makes no difference. We were made to be together.”