2. Kennebunkport

The last forty-five minutes of the drive were equal parts shitty and wet. But they were thankfully bridgeless. Todd had driven north along the coastline, desperately looking forward to a shower. The April air was still quite chilly, and even with the heat blasting on full tilt, Todd had begun to shiver a bit as he signaled to turn off the freeway. His flared nerves had never fully settled out after the incident with the Mercedes.

Todd hadn't spent much time imagining his dad's new life—those sorts of daydreams had departed him many years ago. He'd done a lot to not think about those things very pointedly, in fact. Each time Todd reconnected with his father he was living some new, even more fanciful version of himself: Connecticut insurance broker. Divorce. Texas beef rancher. Divorce. Hawaiian Kettle Chip maker. Divorce. Vegan recycled fishing net hammock maker…Currently still married.

Todd and Snail turned onto a residential street lined by impressive homes. The splendor of the neighborhood immediately felt hostile and foreign to him, and he knew he appeared out of place. From the look of it, this most current version of Todd's father was doing pretty well for himself. Todd's iPhone bleared out from the center console, alerting him that he'd arrived at his father's newest home. It was enormous.

Todd turned Snail off and sat momentarily, fumbling numbly around the center console for the small keychain his dad had mailed: a sterling silver carrot attached to an old-timey-looking key. He held it up and stared at it curiously. It twinkled as Todd turned it over in his hands. He slowly turned from it to the lavish stone-faced manor, letting out a gulp as he took it in. It commanded the landscape, set impressively against the backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. He was shivering constantly now.

Am I really going to leave Snail in this ridiculous driveway?

He fought the urge to fire the car back up, kick it into reverse, and get them both out of there right then. Snail let out a rusty creak as if offering solace for his thoughts. He affectionately patted the dashboard with a pale, frigid hand.

"My thoughts exactly." Todd muttered. "But we don't have much of a choice. Here goes nothing."

And with that, he grabbed his travel bag—an old leather duffel that contained the clothes he'd grabbed in the hurry of the breakup—and made his way up to the front of the elaborate home. Todd felt distinctly out of place as he approached the large oak doors. They were set back into an elaborately carved edifice. Above, a lifelike gargoyle loomed menacingly out over the doorway. It sneered down at him with a cocked head, smiling a too-wide smile that was disturbingly lifelike for something made entirely of granite. Its monstrously muscular form menaced him from above, its claws gripping at the house like it was about to pounce. Todd trembled, averting his gaze for some reason. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck, anticipating at any moment the creature dropping down and reaching out with those taloned hands… but it didn't.

Because, of course, it didn't.

"Get a fucking grip." Todd scolded himself.

He took a deep breath. A part of him was perfectly willing to admit it was a beautiful home—gargoyles excluded. But it felt more like a country club than a house, and he knew then that he'd never feel comfortable here. A close-trimmed lawn wrapped around the mansion on either side, skirting its bountiful beds filled with hydrangeas and low fir trees. Everything had a natural, polished look. The smell of lilac was omnipresent, as was the thundering roar of the Atlantic. It was impressive, albeit a little gaudy.

This place does have a kind of magic, Todd allowed, smiling to himself bitterly in spite of the cold: Rich-people magic.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, and then, after minutes of trepidation, Todd finally attempted to use the key on the front door. To his disappointment, he found it didn't fit the lock. It didn't work on the side door, either. Or the garage door. The carrot key didn't even really look like a house key as he turned it around in his hands, fighting back tears of frustration. Todd's fingers were numb at this point. The rain dampened his already dismal spirits, and he shook as he fumbled with the keychain.

"Fucking stupid piece of shit carrot FUCK!" Todd screamed.

He bit his tongue in his rage, the sharp pain causing him to drop the key and taste blood. Todd felt a blaze of anger flare as he regarded the little thing on the ground with newfound contempt. He grabbed it, shoved it into his pocket, and began to search around the side of the house for some other means of ingress. To his dismay, a series of increasingly hostile-feeling gargoyles appeared as Todd explored. Each leered at him with a toothy little mouth, each affixed with a set of glittering onyx eyes. Todd hated them. He hated all of this. He felt his face flush brutal scarlet under the collective weight of their dark stares. By now his heart was thundering in his chest, and a familiar dread oozed out from deep within him: powerlessness. He clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes tightly, and fought back a renewed surge of searing tears.

He decided to hop the fence and see if there was a way inside somewhere out back. Todd wasn't tall by any means, but he'd managed to stay fit and lean through college. The practice had been sheer force of habit rather than natural inclination. Sports had never been his thing, exactly. Danver—always creeping into his thoughts—had taught him a lot about both lifting and nutrition; it had been one of the few hobbies they'd learned to share. Todd had appreciated the guidance Danver had given him when mentoring him in the gym. That had been before the patience had dried up, along with the merriment. Before all the other things, too…

Enough of that, Todd scolded himself. You have enough to worry about.

He was frigid and soaked to the bone—but his T-shirt clung to his proud chest, and the outline of his well-developed pecs bulged against the wet fabric. Todd braced, then hoisted himself up and over the black iron fence. Todd rarely had occasion to put his athleticism to the test, and he was pleasantly surprised with how easily he could vault the fence…

…and even as he began to smile at his accomplishment, he fell in a clumsy heap on the other side, losing his balance and not sticking the landing like he'd meant to. The fall only added to his mounting collection of filth. A grass stain streaked down the front of his shirt, joined by a pair of scrapes on his knee and elbow that seared with fresh, hot pain.

Todd muttered angrily to himself and wondered how long it was going to be before the police showed up and arrested the now mud-spattered ginger with the crappy old car for breaking and entering. He rose unsteadily to his feet, looked sheepishly around to ensure no one had witnessed his blunder, and then set off down a winding stone path he'd spotted. It meandered through a series of tall, ornate hedges shaped into various animals before opening up to an enormous pool.

Todd heard splashing…

There was someone in the water: a lanky figure taking broad, powerful strokes as he swam lap after lap. Todd grew rigid. His father hadn't mentioned a pool, but why would he? He certainly hadn't mentioned another house guest. That part was strange. But when it came to his father, communication had never been a strong suit.

Todd tried and failed to get a clear glimpse of the swimmer's face. He could tell the man was tall, and his swimming was more graceful and athletic than anything Todd had ever managed on land or in water. Todd was surprised to find himself somewhat in awe of how he moved so easily. He made it look casual. Effortless. The motion was hypnotic. Rhythmic. Todd was transfixed, no longer caring about the cold. Eventually, the splashing came to a halt, and the swimmer hoisted himself out of the water, sending riotous steam plumes upward into the cold spring air.

Todd reckoned he hadn't been noticed yet and felt totally awkward imposing himself on whoever this was. But the swimmer had his wide, powerful back to him, and try as he might to say something in the way of greeting, his words were lodged in his throat.

Andwhat a back. Todd gulped involuntarily as the man bent over to grab a towel off a nearby pool chair. The outline of his muscular ass bulged through the swim briefs. It was like they had been painted on. Even from across the pool, Todd could clearly make out the deep grooves and definition of someone who made a daily practice of some form of exercise. Generous shoulders and lats tapered down to an impossibly thin waist. Steam continued to rise off of him as the cold rain gently plodded against lightly tanned, hairless skin.

And that ass…Todd found himself going back to it over and over—to the way the fabric of the swimsuit was basically glued to it. The way it clung to the heavy meat of the swimmer's glutes and carved a deep valley between them…

Nope, nope, nope,don't do that, Todd thought frantically, feeling a surge of pressure in his own shorts. He distracted himself with the ground, the house, the ocean, back to ass, sky, ass, ocean, house, ass, ass, ass. Todd felt his face flushing wildly and willed himself desperately to be chill for once in his life—largely to no avail. And then Todd felt his heart start to quicken, the heat in his face searing to an uncomfortable new brilliance as the man turned around and saw him for the first time. The swimmer was handsome. His face was chiseled, and his beard was closely trimmed. The man smiled at him from across the pool, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Oh, hey! I didn't see you there. I'm Zack! You must be Todd!" He waved. I'm your stepbrother, I guess?" He chuckled. Your dad told me to expect you. Sorry, I thought you were coming next week or something."

Zack had finished toweling and walked toward Todd, tracing along the poolside with a casual saunter. He possessed the easy swagger of someone who didn't spend much time second-guessing themselves and never had. Todd did not walk like that.

"Yo, are you cold? You look like… why are you all muddy?" With a thick forefinger, he flicked some of the road grime off Todd's cheek. Ew," he concluded, wiping his finger on his swimsuit. "What is that?"

"Long story." Todd offered. "And yeah, I'm Todd. Hey, look, I'm sorry I didn't realize I wouldn't be here alone. I'm sorry to crash your summer like this." He apologized, unable to maintain eye contact with Zack without feeling his face sear with heat.

"Ah, no worries. It's a big place. Besides, we're family now, right?" the swimmer chuckled. "Your dad is an odd guy. No offense."

"None taken." Todd assured.

Zack had slung the towel on his waist so low that Todd had difficulty remembering there was a swimsuit beneath it. An awkward silence stretched out between them as Todd looked everywhere but at Zack.

"How was your drive up here? Did you find the place okay?" Zack.

"It's kind of hard to miss." Todd laughed.

"Hey, look, I get it. This place is, like, a lot. Don't worry, it's not as…" He gestured broadly, "You know…bullshit or whatever as it might seem from out here. Come on, let's get you and your stuff inside." Zack chuckled.

He took Todd's bag from him with one hand while ushering him toward a side door with the other. Up close, Todd could smell the chlorine and feel the warmth from Zack's body, which was still steaming in the icy rain. The difference in their height felt even more pronounced now, and Todd was surprised to find himself slightly intimidated by Zack on some subconscious level. Maybe it was the ease and athleticism with which he moved that huge body. Or maybe it was something more primal. He felt the heavy warmth of Zack's hand at his back as they moved toward the door. It was huge—like a giant weight that spanned almost the entire distance between his shoulder blades. And it guided him with a familiar comfort and pressure that was equal parts reassuring and directive. Todd would have felt relaxed if his head would stop spinning.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Zack said cheerily from behind him.

The tall man reached past him and opened the door, slinging his small bag behind his back. The motion revealed the crease of his armpit. Todd stared at the dark hair nestled there, shadowed by deeply muscled lines. The change in stance had caused a distracting bulge to appear along Zack's massive bicep, and Todd traced a thick vein up the length of his powerful arm, winding its way from wrist to shoulder. Todd looked away. He looked down. He looked at the ceiling. The door. He desperately hoped that the dimmer lighting indoors might hide his blushing face. Or maybe the mud would obscure the incriminating pigment…

Or maybe I'm just an awkward freak creeping on his stepbrother within five seconds of meeting him,Todd despaired.

But Zack hadn't appeared to notice any of it. Todd snapped out of his head enough to notice that the room they'd entered was a washroom of sorts. It probably had some fancy French name he'd never be able to pronounce. He couldn't believe his dad lived here, not when he'd grown up in one-bedroom apartments, sleeping on a couch most nights. The room had moody, arced ceilings and a terracotta floor that probably cost more than a year at college. A lavish crystal chandelier was suspended over an ebony table in the center of the space. Todd took it in with equal measures of awe and disgust.

A pair of shorts hit him in the face.

"Sorry!" Zack barked, raising his hands in apology. I thought you were paying attention!" If a grin could be apologetic, his was. "I figured you might want some clean clothes because of all the…well, you know." He gestured at Todd's general state.

"Yeah, no I appreciate it." Todd replied awkwardly, grabbing the shorts from the floor. He was glad for the distraction. They looked a little big, but they'd do. At least they were dry. Zack closed the distance between them with a folded sweatshirt and a pair of fuzzy hiking socks in his oversized hands.

"These too," he said, presenting them more carefully. "I figured you might be cold. Don't worry, they're old but they're clean," he insisted, holding the stack out insistently.

"Thanks." Todd mumbled, unable to meet Zack's gaze.

Todd grabbed at the clothes in a blundered attempt at matching Zack's casual grace. He felt a slight resistance as he tried to pull them away, as though those huge hands meant to tease him a little. He finally managed a nervous look at Zack, who merely grinned at him. Then—just like that—the clothes released, and Todd realized he'd been pulling on them quite hard. He stumbled backward, nearly falling to the ground had Zack not reached out and steadied him.

"Sorry." Zack chuckled. "I couldn't help it. I've never had a brother before and it was just too tempting. Hey, there's a bathroom through there."

He was pointing toward a dark alcove in the corner of the room. "And the kitchen is just through that way when you're done." He gestured over to a larger door opposite the shower. "Hey, are you hungry, by the way? I was going to make some lunch after my swim—I can make extra if you want."

"I'm… actually starving," Todd realized. He felt touched by the offer.

"No problem. Two lunches coming right up," Zack said. "And hey, welcome to Kennebunkport. If I'm honest, I'm actually kind of glad for the company this summer. It's always creeped me out to be the only one here." Zack winked, turning to leave. He paused briefly when he reached the doorway as though he were about to say something, then shook his head and left.

Todd flinched as a deep unease tugged at him. He was struck by a flash of memory—a man in a mask appeared out of a fog of shadows, grasping and giggling, ripping his mom from him and dragging her screaming into the dark. An entire section of the bridge disappeared with her…But the memory was wrapped in a deep haze, and any time he tried to focus on it, it slipped away from him like so much smoke.

Todd closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, willing the darkness from his mind as he often had. But even as he banished it, the swimmer splashed into his thoughts in its place. He was startled by the sudden and powerful intrusiveness of the image: it was Zack's fucking smile. Todd had felt that smile like it hurt. That smile was sparks. That smile was fireworks. That smile sizzled across the dark landscape of his soul, racing toward the shadows and lighting them up in brief eruptions of pure electric intensity, banishing the corruption that lived within him in moments of fleeting respite. Todd imagined them erupting across him like thousands of tiny detonations. He felt as though a sun had erupted to life inside of him.He felt awake. Alive. And for the first time in so very long, he felt hopeful. And then, just like that, just as suddenly as he'd arrived in Todd's thoughts, Zack fell away. An emptiness followed in the vacuum of the next few moments. A darkness settled across him. And then it was just him there: just Todd. Alone.

But not entirely alone. Not ever. Because there was always that other thing—the shadowy one—the evil presence that he did his very best not to think about at all. The only thing he did remember about that day on the bridge was that it had found him then. And it had lived out along the wildest fringes of his mind ever since—dancing along the tattered edges of the real. And it wanted to overtake him, to become him. It was him. Except it very much wasn't.

Todd shuddered, fearing he might vomit, steadying himself against the laundry room wall. His heart was racing. Todd peered uneasily into the darkened alcove where the shower room awaited him, a childish fear of what might be lurking in the dark flittering across him.

That's right.It taunted. You should be afraid of the shadows. They're coming for you.

"Stop it." Todd whispered. "Shut up! Leave me alone." He begged.

You act like I'm your enemy. You have no idea what's coming.

"I said leave me alone." Todd fumed, loud enough he worried Zack might here him.

As you wish. But you can't outrun fate. We're not done with each other, not by a long shot.I'll be seeing you shortly.

And then the voice, the shadow, was gone. Todd heaved, weakly making his way to the shower, doing his level best to pretend like none of that had happened.