The night air tasted like salt and metal. Waves kept rolling in, slow and heavy, each one hissing as it slid back over the sand like it was scared to get too close. The moon hung low and fat, so bright it turned the wet beach into a mirror, every footprint and sword scar glowing silver.
My black coat caught the wind and snapped like a flag. Alaric's red aura licked around his shoulders, throwing off heat you could feel even from fifty yards away.
Behind us, the crowd had turned into statues.
The phones glowed pale blue in the dark, shaking in nervous hands. A girl in a pink swimsuit stood with her boyfriend, mouth open, eyes huge. An old fisherman had his cap pulled low, knuckles white on his walking stick. A couple of drunk college guys who'd been laughing an hour ago now stood dead sober, beers forgotten in the sand.
Nobody dared speak above a whisper.
