Predator and Prey Prowlers 3 by Christopher Golden Read Free Book Online Page B

her.
    Molly ran into the water, hurdling waves as it grew deeper, and then dove right in, unmindful of the cold temperature of the ocean. Jack followed, his momentum nearly causing him to trip, but he took a few last long steps and then plunged into the water after her. Molly was maybe six feet away, and he lunged at her. She shrieked almost giddily and tried to dodge him, but was not fast enough. Jack grabbed her by the shoulder, put his other hand on top of her head, and dunked her into the Atlantic even as they were both battered by a high wave.
    He barely kept his footing, but he lost hold of her. As he glanced around to search for her again, something tugged on his legs and he went under, sputtering and choking on salt water. Jack scrambled to get his feet beneath him again, and when he stood up, he saw Molly close by. Her grin was even wider as she pushed her wet hair away from her face. The bathing suit clung damply to her in a way that made him want to look again and yet made him feel as though he ought to look away, all at the same time.
    Molly tensed as though she had seen that reaction on his face. Her smile faltered and the energy seemed to go out of her.
    “Can I ask you a question?” she asked.
    “Yeah.”
    Molly ran both hands through her water-darkened hair, straightening it out. “Is this a date?”
    Jack blinked, his mouth slightly parted. He started to speak, then stopped, unsure how to reply. Her eyes searched his for an answer. After a few seconds of fumbling, he slid down into the water and allowed himself to float as he regarded her.
    “Do . . . I mean, do you want it to be?” he asked at last.
    “I’m not sure,” she said, slipping down into the water just as he had, swimming just a bit to keep afloat. “We never talked about what happened in Vermont, when we . . . I mean, I think I do, want it to be. But wanting that makes me feel like I’m betraying something.”
    “Betraying Artie,” Jack said.
    She nodded.
    “I can’t help you with that,” he went on. Though there were so many things he wished he could say, that he ought to say, for Molly’s sake. “Maybe if we had time, that would change things. But I don’t want to confuse you, or myself, and you’re going away in a couple of weeks.” For a second he thought she was going to argue. Wanted her to argue. But then Molly just started to swim, no longer meeting his gaze.
    “Where do you want to have dinner?” she asked.
    But Jack did not answer. His attention was riveted on a spot just past her, where a thirtyish man with a toddler on his shoulders waded into the waves. And where the ghost of Artie Carroll, in jeans and a torn sweatshirt, hung above the ocean and beckoned to Jack.
    “Artie,” Jack whispered.
    Molly flinched at the name, then turned to see exactly what Jack was staring at.
    C H A P T E R 2

    Artie.
    For a moment Molly simply drifted there in the water, letting it tug at her and rock her with its inexorable power. She tasted salt on her lips, felt the cold of the ocean seep into her bones, turning her numb. But she knew that it was not truly the water that had done that. A wave rolled past, lifting her up and then gently lowering her again, and she stared first at Jack and then at the distant spot along the beach where he stared at a place just above the waves.
    A sea gull flew past.
    Children chased one another in the sand just along the shore where the waves rippled like little bits of magic. A gray-haired man—an older father or young grandfather—directed a trio of girls in the construction of a sand castle of extraordinary proportions.
    The gull must have cawed. The surf must have whispered on the sand. The children must have shrieked with pleasure. Molly could hear none of it. She found herself suddenly deaf. Deaf save for the single word that Jack had spoken.
    Artie.
    Molly had suspected, but she had not known. Even now, Jack would doubtless try to explain it away. But it wouldn’t work anymore. Now she