He hated its mystery, its vastness, and he especially hated its romantic reputation. Truth be told, there wasn’t much in his life at the moment that he did like. He was divorced and bitter, and the thought of investigating the disappearance of a group of tourists in an isolated, Italian fishing village didn’t leave him wearing his best mood.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with this,” he complained to his partner, Paul. “Does anyone here even speak English?”

“I doubt it. We’re pretty far off the usual tourist path,” Paul replied, shining a flashlight on the blood-splattered dock.

“God, it looks like someone exploded.”

A group of children suddenly ran towards them with the type of zeal that said they had somewhere to be, and soon.

“Hey, do any of you speak English?” Dan yelled, trying to corral their attention.

They all turned around and stood in a restless silence, pleading the fifth.

“Well, does anyone know what happened here?” Dan asked, waving his arms around the blood.

Only one child spoke; one word: Angelina.

“Who’s Angelina?”

The response was unanimous. They all pointed towards the ocean, before turning and running off the beach.

“That was weird,” said Paul.

“Yeah, let’s split up,” Dan replied. “We’ll each check out a side of the beach, and then find ourselves a hotel. We can finish this up in the morning.”

They had barely separated, when a strange noise broke through the waves. It sounded like a needle scratching over an old 45. Dan felt his feet freeze to the sand; his entire body was swept with an icy numbness, as if hypnotized by the melodic screech. He heard Paul scream, but he couldn’t move, unable to even turn his head.

Paul screamed again and again. He screamed until it was no longer a scream, but an inhuman squeal, suffering in the wind.

The song suddenly ended, and Dan was able to feel his legs again. As he hobbled back towards Paul, he heard something thrashing against the sand and water, something just on the other side of the dock. It sounded like it may be a fish feverishly fighting for its last breath, but as he moved closer, he saw that it not only had a fish tail, but wings and a small, round head.

His heart met his throat when he saw Paul’s face, shrunken and nearly unrecognizable, wracked with pain. But Paul wasn’t alone.

The air was filled with the tortured creatures; some flew with ease, while others skipped awkwardly off the waves, bouncing back and forth between air and water. They separated into two columns, making way for the large creature flying through them.

It was her.

Angelina.

She looked like a mermaid crossed with a bat. A matted blaze of red hair flowed over her red eyes, down past her leathery wings, and onto her lengthy fish tail. She began to sing and Dan realized his body was no longer his own.

He watched everything.

He saw her snake-like fangs, and felt the venom enter his bloodstream as she bit into his shoulder. He felt his body dissolve, his arms and legs melt into a scaly tail, and his blood drain onto the beach. He tried to get up, but could only flail and flop in the sand and blood, thrashing until the night air took his breath. He screamed out the last of his humanity, when the wings tore through his back.

The song and the tide pulled him towards Angelina. She was calling him, calling all of them, through the waves and the moonlight.

She took them into the liquid night, down into the darkness.

Dan Reed hated the ocean.

Always will.