She ate her dinner on the back porch then wandered out onto the beach barefooted. The ocean was cold, and wet sand squished between her toes. She walked down the beach opposite the party, gaze alternating between the ocean at her feet and the full moon climbing into the sky. Wind tossed her hair, and she tied it up in a bun. The sweet scent of rotting seaweed made her nose wrinkle. She glanced towards the brush and shrubs of an unkempt lot, where a crumbling foundation of an old beach house remained.
The beach ahead of her was open and dark. She grinned, pretending it was all hers. Deidre sat and dropped onto her back, staring up at the sky. She lay there for a few minutes, content.
"It's not safe out here for you to be alone." The voice was low and quiet. She didn't hear him approach, but he sounded close.
She rolled onto her stomach to see who spoke. The man standing in the weedy area of the lot was tall and thick, dressed in a trench coat, black clothing and heavy boots. His features were partially illuminated by the moonlight: a chiseled jaw and cheekbones, dark eyes and neatly trimmed, dark hair. The other half of his face was stuck in the shadows, giving him a surreal appearance, as if he had one foot in a different world. The breeze ruffling the curls that escaped from her bun went around him, not touching his coat.
"I'm good," she said.
"Famous last words."
She laughed, knowing he couldn't possibly understand why she found it funny.
"Water sprite or human?" He sounded genuinely puzzled.
"What? Why …Ooohhh." she touched her face, recalling the stop at the clown's booth. Her face was stiff and blue while her hair was hot pink. "It's face paint."
"Interesting."
She ducked her head to hide her smile. The way he said it, he didn't find it interesting at all.
"Sorry to disappoint you." She rolled onto her back again. "Sit with me?"
"No."
"Alright."
There was a pause. "You're going to ignore my warning, aren't you?"
"Yeah." The stars were brilliant this evening. Absorbed by the sight, she began to think he left as quietly as he arrived. The stranger's dark form came into her peripheral. He sat a couple of feet from her.
He was bigger than he looked from a distance, the size of a linebacker. His elbows were propped on his knees, the trench falling back to show a lean body, flat stomach and muscular thighs outlined by the soft material of his pants. She thought she saw the glint of weapons lining his trench. While she didn't fear dying anymore, she was in no hurry to die, either. She'd passed through that stage after a few months and decided to make - and fulfill - her bucket list.