Paragon ✓

III. A Second Coming

The raging rocks,

And shivering shocks

Shall break the locks

Of prison gates

– William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream

Licksy's was a remote beach near Jack Creek; one only locals – and a select few others - knew about. The breaks at Licksy's were rougher than the beginner-friendly tides of Long Beach and Rickard's Point. Over one section of the beach, where a subaquarian shelf rose particularly sharp, the waves could reach up to ten meters in height. When tourists found the beach, disaster inevitably followed, diverting the surfers from their waves. After too many near-drownings, everyone stopped talking about Licksy's. No shop owner in town would admit to knowing about the beach. Fastidious surfers with computer skills deleted the coordinates off of any internet site that had located it.

The beach became clandestine.

Because of this secrecy, at seven-thirty on Sunday morning, Katia was completely alone. She had been dropped off at some distance by a thoroughly annoyed Irina, who'd forgotten her promise, and then Katia had hiked a mile over a gravel drive, before turning off onto a wide trail that led down to the beach.

Digging her toes into the sand, Katia paused to enjoy the scene; the feel of a warm September morning, the dull roar of waves a hundred meters out, and the quiet, intermittent flapping of an eagle's wings. She loved this place for its mix of peace and adventure; the rush of surfing in the stillness of an undiscovered land.

Katia watched as the eagle swooped. It dove down, disappearing into the depths, and reappeared with a small trout in its talons. She smiled at its triumph.

"Beautiful," a voice sighed.

"Morning, Lorelai," Katia said, her eyes still on the eagle.

Lorelai sniffed. "It's impossible to sneak up on you."

Katia turned and smiled at the only woman she might call a friend. Lorelai was almost thirty, but her brow was creased with more years of sunshine and sin than most would achieve in a lifetime. She – like Katia – had long, muscled limbs and a mass of blonde, tangled hair. Unlike Katia, she wore on her torso the bodily waves of a woman's weight. Lorelai was well-worn and beautiful.

"Surf looks wicked today," Katia said.

"Like my incorrigible self."

Katia chewed on the skin inside her cheeks, unsure what to say. She knew that Lorelai was having trouble with her wife, Kelly, and they both knew that this was probably Lorelai's fault. It didn't make it any less sad.

"How's Kelly?" she asked.

"Staying with her mother for a bit. Nothing I'm not to blame for."

"I've heard that water atones," Katia suggested, trying to remember where she'd heard it, or what it even meant.

"This is why I like you, Katia. All solutions, no drama." Lorelai smiled faintly, hoisting her board under her arm. "I'd like you even more if you worked for me."

Lorelai owned a ladies-only surf school that rivalled the Castile's shop. She offered Katia an instructor job on a weekly basis. Katia always declined.

"Katia!" A low cry broke her out of her thoughts. It was Ethan. His curly blond hair flopped in the wind, and even at this distance, she could see his blue eyes sparkling, reflecting the light of the morning sun.

"Look at that," Lorelai gave a good-natured groan. "Not even an acknowledgement for me."

"It's because you're the enemy." Katia waved back at Ethan. Beside him, boards swinging under their arms, were Sam and James Mailloux. Few surfers in town were capable of riding with Ethan and Katia, and only the brothers and Lorelai were willing to. They looked exhausted and grumpy, lured to the ocean at such an ungodly hour by the promise of good surf. They were rewarded with nine-foot swells.