Nora Hale stood on the cliff path above Blackwater Cove, in the cold draft chafing her skin, staring at a strip of white moving over the gray sea. It did not spread like foam or break like waves. It seemed to glide, deliberate and silent, toward the reef.
The words whispered themselves in her mind, “The Serpent Line.” They slid straight under Nora’s skin. The moment she remembered those words, the cove below stopped looking like water and began looking like a distant memory, and it frightened her.
Then the shaky video lurched closer. A small rowing boat drifted near the spinning patch at the end of the pale trail, and something dark and narrow rose from the center before sinking again. Nora went cold…What was it that she just saw?