I couldn’t stay out in the cold all night—it was freezing—and besides that, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in hours and my stomach was making frustrated gurgling noises deep in my belly as a reminder to feed it. “Dammit,” I said under my breath as I stepped off the asphalt and onto the dirt path that led to the rickety front steps. I felt like I was walking into a horror film, one of those H. P. Lovecraft, attack of the frog/fish people scenarios with all the atmospheric fog and creepy fishermen bidding you to leave town before it’s too late. I didn’t want to end up in Davy Jones’s locker, but I also didn’t want to stand out in the fog like a nincompoop, either. “Wait for me!” I called as I placed one foot on the bottom step and grasped the wooden railing for support. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the splintered railing, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot up my arm. A painful current zapped through my body, completing some unseen circuit, and I gritted my teeth against the pain.
