Across the black water, the old lighthouse blinked twice. Then it went dark. Mara stood on the dock and stared. That light had no business working. The town said no one had unlocked the lighthouse door in over forty years, and no one had climbed up to light the lamp. Yet there it was, flashing. Mara grabbed her flashlight and her coat. She had to know who, or what, was up there.

Mara decided not to go alone. She ran to wake old Pete, the only person in town who had actually known the last keeper. Pete opened his door in his robe, took one look at her face, and sighed. 'You saw the light too, didn't you,' he said.

Pete refused to go near the lighthouse. Instead he handed Mara an old brass key from his drawer. 'I kept a copy all these years,' he said. 'If you're going up there, go alone. Some things only show themselves to one person at a time.' Mara took the key and headed for the water.