16 Lighthouse Rd Novels & Stories

Krista asked. "Other than the road and the view, only the east end lighthouse at Spot Bay," Enoch replied. "It's about 15 minutes or so from here and then there's a walk of just over half a mile along a footpath to the lighthouse. It's a nice view at the top of the bluff." "We've been to Spot Bay," Susan said. "That sounds perfect. By the time we get there, I'll be able to walk, then I can walk off some of this food."

But Peanut nodded anyway. Then the lighthouse appeared again through the rain. Closer now. Much closer. Its dark shape stood against the storm. Waiting. Then Walter pointed. "There!" Everyone looked. A light. Inside the lighthouse. A real light. Moving. Someone was there. God. Someone was waiting. Fair. Please let them be friendly. Reasonable honestly. Then another scream echoed across the island. Closer this time. Much closer. The thing was gaining on them. Then Ava looked back.

Lunch was being served outdoors beneath the leafy splendor of a ring of flame trees. Beyond them, flight after flight of shallow steps adorned with classical statues descended to the white beach below. Demis Agelastos gave Lara a good look. He had a fiercely amused scrutinizing gaze. Flustered, Lara dropped down into her seat. One of the maids had awakened her and she hadn’t had much time to get ready. When she glanced up again, Christophe’s brilliant golden eyes were wandering with indolent satisfaction over her in a look as unashamedly physical as a caress. A deep flush of awareness colored her skin, making her desperately conscious of the unfamiliar ache between her thighs.

The dark clouds produced some lightning, completing the Dracula vibes of the House of Lamentation. A mailbox and its carved house’s address grabbed Cent’s attention. Street 666, House of Lamentation

Silas said pleasantly. “Then bring receipts,” Rooke’s matriarch said behind him, and Silas smiled because he appreciated competence even when it targeted him. At home, the foyer had received a parcel: a crate, salt-stained, with Ashmere’s opinionated rope. Inside: a dozen small hinges accompanied by a note scratched by a hand that had learned to live in wind—for windows that forgot themselves—and a second sheet in Maera’s older script: Lighthouse maintenance log: ratchet replaced; light demoted to work.

“Oh . . . wow.” Hannah let the car roll to a stop along the Cove road as she stared down the short stretch of Pelican Bay shoreline, then out to the Point, where the McCraes’ lighthouse stood, a proud old sentry, historic and beloved. The sun was just rising above the horizon line behind it, casting it in a pinkish-golden halo of light.

Less than two hundred meters off the starboard side… A rusted lighthouse rose from the sea. None of them had noticed it before. It stood on a narrow rock barely visible above the waves. Gabriel frowned. “That lighthouse shouldn’t be here.” Henry’s expression darkened. “It wasn’t.” ⸻ Captain Nora cut the engines. “No maps show a lighthouse in these waters.” Marcus studied it through the binoculars. “No windows.” “No beacon.” “No movement.” Just as he lowered the binoculars… A light appeared at the top.

The old lighthouse had been dark for years. Perched on the jagged edge of Widow’s Point, the Black Hollow Lighthouse had been abandoned since the night Keeper Alden Rowe vanished without a trace. No one had taken the position after that. Some said he’d fallen. Others whispered the sea had claimed him for a debt long unpaid. Mara didn’t believe in sea-debts. But she knew what she saw. Three flashes. Evenly spaced. Deliberate. The pattern repeated. Her little brother, Toby, burst into her room. “Did you see it?”

"...it would mean we had already failed." Silence settled over the room. No one argued. Because every person present carried some responsibility for how they had arrived there. Lydia walked towards the old lighthouse window. The beacon above had begun rotating once again after the emergency generator restored power. Its light swept across the Atlantic. Back and forth. Back and forth. She smiled faintly. "My mother used to tell me something." Amara looked at her. "What?" "'A lighthouse does not chase ships.'" "It simply refuses to stop shining."

"Then let me prove it's not me. Let me go in first." "Absolutely not," Isabella said from the back seat, sharp and immediate. "If this is a trap, you're not the one who walks into it alone." The lighthouse stood exactly as Valentina had described it, weathered and abandoned, the kind of place a man could disappear into for weeks without anyone thinking to look twice. Its paint had peeled to bare gray wood in long strips, and the lamp room at its crown sat dark and shattered, glass long since claimed by salt and storms. Gulls wheeled overhead, crying out against the wind, and somewhere below us the waves struck the rocks with a rhythm that felt almost like breathing. We approached carefully,