Merlin and the Flannan Isle Lighthouse Mystery

1: The eeriest Flannan Isle

Faint mist hung over the sea, making it feel like the small vessel was sailing through an extension of the clouds that hid the sun from the world today. Waves lapped at the boat, sprinkling Merlin's face and glasses with cold droplets. He wiped the lenses with his undershirt and shivered.

"Are we there yet?" he asked for the n-th time, not expecting a response.

"Aye," the elderly captain answered.

Merlin did a little backflip in his mind and promptly put his glasses back on. Sure enough, dark shapes were emerging within the foggy horizon ahead of them - the infamous Flannan Isles. Even before the puzzling disappearance of the three lighthouse keepers, a phantasmal aura was rumored to loom over the remote islet, attracting tourists and paranormal investigators alike. While all they could do was theorize about what could have happened to the island's only residents, Merlin could provide answers.

Seeing the rocky isles ahead sent a wave of excitement and nerves through him, which tied his stomach into a knot. The boat was hit by another wave, and he tasted bile.

"Which islet is Eilean Mor?" he asked, craving the dry land.

"The one we're sailing to," the old man answered, looking at Merlin sideways with a puzzled expression.

Merlin forced a smile and stepped away. He pulled a yarn beanie over his wind-chilled ears, and faced the only other passenger on their small vessel. "We're almost there, Miss Star."

The whole journey, she sat on that wooden crate with her back turned to him. Merlin wasn't sure what he'd done wrong to warrant the silent treatment. She couldn't have figured out his secret, could she?

"Did we get off on the wrong foot?" he asked. "We could start over. Hello, I'm Merlin Herkimer, but you can call me Merlin. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

She spared the islands a passing glance, fixed the flowery scarf covering her head, and finally faced him. He smiled and offered his hand, which she gripped and held prisoner, her eyes reduced to slits. He met her gaze as an equal. She couldn't possibly know that he wasn't fully human. Black hair paint covered his unnatural ruby-red demon hair while his glasses blurred out the strange pattern of his irises, but she eyed him as if she could see past the disguise.

The waves lapped against the boat while he waited for her assessment. If he still had a tail, it would have been nervously jerking behind him, but he'd gotten rid of that thing for a reason. These judgmental stares used to end with him unjustly getting kicked out of most establishments while those who recognized he was an Incubus cambion only wanted to use him.

"You're younger than I thought you'd be," she said.

He sighed in relief. Age. She was concerned about his age! "I'm old enough to make history."

Seagulls squawked above them while the fish-scented breeze ripped at the sails. Merlin tried to exude confidence, ready to be judged for his personal achievements and not for his heritage. Solving this mystery would provide a story worth telling, and an award-winning reporter like her would spread it to all corners of the world. She could make him famous.

Miss Star glared at him, not easing her vise grip. "In the letter, you claimed to be a seasoned supernatural investigator."

"I may be only twenty-two, but I make up for it with skill. I'm a master magus and the best magitech inventor in the realm."

She pursed her lips, thinking about it. "Bold claim." She gave him a final bone-crushing squeeze before letting go. "Let's hope for your sake that you didn't waste my time."

Merlin cradled his hand and flexed his fingers, which throbbed like a flaring sunhole. "I'll do all the work. All you have to do is write the article."