You might find this ironic, but sometimes I believe it is difficult being a sixteen-year-old girl. 

When I was around Brooke's age, I craved nothing more than to get away from my parents' tyranny. 

I remembered skipping school to hang out with my schoolmates, but the thought of growing up in a strange world frightens me.

Instead of a bright future, I was faced with homophobic slurs, odd jobs, and a choice to follow my parents' dreams as a successful lawyer.

Now, as my pen danced across the ivory white pages, I bet my entire life that these four children will find a way to defeat the monster. 

But as I had said before, a gruesome surprise will always show up when they least expect it.

Impoverished communities stride across the wooden floorboards as the adults and teens search for information on the sea monster.

But before they attended Triton's favorite place, the group went to a shopping outlet where they had purchased warm clothes, weapons, and necessities. 

Putting up her brown hair into a ponytail, Nessa asked: "So, where is the place again?"

An impatient Triton flickers his eyes around the sunless district. "It's not too far from here."

Adelaide let out an exasperated groan. 

Of all the endless travels she had endured, Adelaide despised this journey because of Triton's inability to recall the directions.

She and her husband try to convince Triton to find a map; but apparently, Triton thinks that maps are overrated. 

"Do you even know where we are going?" Thomas asked Triton impatiently. 

Rolling his eyes, Triton tells him for the umpteenth time that they are going to the Long Silver Inn.

Johnny trudges behind the retired school gym teacher, repulsed by the strong stench of sea salt settling on the water. 

Looking in Triton's direction, the inquisitive boy asks: "So, what is the Long Silver Inn like?"

Ambling past a closed pizza parlor, the former gym teacher glanced at him. "It's a sanctuary for pirates."

"Sometimes they come here to repair their ships, visit their families, and eat delicious bowls of clam chowder." 

"I see." an intrigued Johnny murmur. 

His concealed saber moves around inside his black backpack like an anxious puppy; deft fingers clenched around the leather black straps as Johnny strolls along the squeaky floorboards. 

Gawking at the dreary province, Brooke remarked, "this place is incredible, but are you sure it's safe.. for people like us?"

A grinning Triton bobs his head. 

"Yeah," he replies nonchalantly. "This place doesn't stop supernaturals from scoring pots of bubbling chowder."

Nessa's brown eyes broadened.

"The Long Silver Inn serves chowder?" she asks Triton. 

"Of course."

"I thought Lovecraft Creek is known for its fishing industry."

To prove her point, Nessa gestures superficial fishing markets shifting past her. Bad odors of fish and decaying clams lured frugal insects inside open doors. 

"You are correct, Nessa," began Triton. "But Long Silver Inn serves mostly soups, seafood, and dishes imported from the South." 

Caleb scrunched his nose. "What kind of Southern dishes?"

"The pub serves dishes like freshly cooked crawfish, spaghetti dipped in creamy white sauce, fried shrimp, oysters, and other delicacies."

Brooke grimaces at the thought of tasting the slimy oyster meat from a smooth shell.

"Do you think the tavern serves anything . . . vegan?"

"Yeah," he replied. "They have creamy veggie chowder, salty chips, and appetizing soups."

"Oh, okay." Brooke tries to show enthusiasm, but something was gnawing at her chest. 

"Hey, are you doing alright?" Thomas asked. 

"Yes."

Adelaide gives her a look. "You haven't been this uneasy since we got here."

"Gee, I wonder why," Brooke thinks wearily.

"Mom, I am fine." she lied. "I am just a little jumpy. That's all." 

"Are you sure, Brooke?" Adelaide brushes her warm hands against her daughter's face. 

"Mom—"

"What did you see in your vision?" she interrupts hastily. 

Lowering her brown paper shopping bags, Brooke released a tiring sigh.

"Well, I see cops shutting down a clothing store over on Mariner Boulevard," she explains reluctantly. 

That's when Thomas and the others slowed down. "Are you serious?" 

"Yeah." Brooke nods grimly. "I also saw an army of magical creatures protesting against police brutality."

Terrified, Triton takes a careful step towards Brooke.

"Really?" he breathed. "When last did you see that vision?" 

The young oracle became flustered. "It was right before we stopped at the store to buy clothes."

In the mid-90s, police raids were common in Lovecraft Creek. Laws has stated that the police will stay away from supernatural communities. 

However, if a shapeshifter, gnome, or a siren inflicts any damage upon a human, then the cops will take matters into their own hands.

So, they send poachers to take care of them. 

On Mariner Boulevard, hostile poachers come in and out of a clothing store, apprehending suspicious characters.

Cries of protest grew wild as virtuous clients were shoved in the back of their menacing black cars.

"That's not fair!" a satyr belted out loud. 

The poor creature was dragged out of the store and slammed up against the wall.

"Let me go, I have rights!" 

A bulky hunter scoffed as he pulled the satyr from the wall, drag him by his horn, swung open the car door, and pushed the satyr inside.

"Humans have rights," he sniggered. "Not pathetic freaks like you."

Watching the scene from afar, Caleb insists that the group should go somewhere else.  

Johnny, Triton, Thomas, Adelaide, and Nessa all agreed. 

They quietly evacuate from the uprising whereas Brooke stormed up to the hunter who assaulted the satyr.

But just when she about to give him a piece of her mind, Caleb grabs Brooke by the wrist and pulls her towards him.

"Where the hell are you going?" he growls. 

Brooke flashes him an antagonistic look.

"Come on, Caleb." she hissed. "We can't just leave these people behind!"

"I know," he hissed. "But we can't save everyone." 

"Why not?"

After releasing her wrist, Caleb gives her a nasty look. 

"Not everyone deserves to be saved, Brooke." he sighed. "We can't just point our guns and raise hell." 

A stubborn Brooke placed her hands on her hips. "I thought you care about helping people."

"I do, but I don't hate getting involved in protests."

"Why?"

Caleb gives her a wan smile. "The last time I got involved in a protest, I had spent my childhood in juvie."

"So now, whenever I see an unreasonable uprising, I just turn around and ignore it."

Turning her head towards the gripping scene, Brooke watched the chaos unfold. 

The women were separated from their husbands; children struggled to cling onto their parents, but the hunters shoved them on the cobblestone floor.

"I can't believe I am saying this," Caleb continued. "But you should walk away too, Brooke."

"What?" she cried. "That's bullshit."

"This is America," Caleb replied, holding out his hand for Brooke. "So unless we want the pigs on our asses, we got to go."

*  *  *
After the couple rejoined the group, Triton invited Brooke's parents and the children to the Long Silver Inn. 

Now, the pub is amazing: It has wooden bookshelves, pleasant customers, and warm smells of bubbling clam chowder. 

As they take their seats in the tavern, waiters in depressingly gray aprons serve spiced beverages, seafood, and creamy broth. 

"Geez," Caleb wondered. "This place is a fucking dump."

The customers were bored; the floor smelled like warm beer, and the flickering light bulbs reminded Nessa of impatient fireflies.

Triton observes Caleb's sickened mood as he sits next to Brooke. 

Shopping bags slammed against the ragged table as the group sat on uncomfortable chairs.

"Jesus," Caleb grumbles. "It feels like some idiot shoved thumb tacks right up my ass."

Placing his bag beside him, Caleb carefully places his arm around Brooke's shoulder and sweetly tucks a loose curl behind her left ear. 

"You good, babe?"

Brooke nods as she shoves the wrinkled newspaper inside her purse.

An inquisitive Nessa marveled at the dark chocolate walls before lowering her backpack next to an empty chair.

"Let's hope this chef treats us better than the asshole from the diner," she replied gruffly. 

Johnny casts her a scolding look. "Watch yourself, Nessa." 

"I am!" she pouted. 

"The diner we went to was complete shit, but at least that cute waitress was nice. You should ask her out." 

A testy Johnny shakes his head in disdain. "I am not interested in having a girlfriend, right now."

"Killjoy."  

Ignoring his younger sister, Johnny says to Adelaide: "Hey Mrs. King, is something bad going to happen?"

Brooke's mother closes her eyes then quickly reopens them.

"Yes," she responds slowly. "There is going to be another police raid at exactly 4:30 p.m." 

Thomas and Brooke trade weird glances at one another. 

"I have seen that vision before while we were browsing in the mall." Thomas insisted. 

"But what I don't understand is why the cops would raid an innocent pub?" 

Caleb peers around the almost empty saloon until loud thoughts began plaguing his head.

Some yearn for booze; others desire sex and drugs, but the one thing that stood out from the noise is the bartender's anxious thoughts.

Thomas stares at Caleb very strangely.

"What's wrong?" he inquired.

Sliding his hands inside his pockets, Caleb informed the group that the tavern has an "expired liquor license."

Triton gazes at him for a moment.

"Their liquor license has been expired?" he gasped. 

This news surprised Triton because he often drank beers at the lunch counter.

"No." Caleb scoffed, jerking his thumb at the lunch counter. "The bartender just had it renewed two days ago." 

Nessa let out a revolted snort. "You have got to be kidding me." 

"Yeah." Brooke agrees in annoyance. 

"And based on the protest we just saw, I am guessing that the pigs are coming up with shitty excuses so they can throw our kind behind bars."

An irritated Johnny leans his back against his wooden chair.

"This is bullshit," he growled. "And to think we were going to have the best Christmas vacation." 

Adelaide let out a small laugh as she settles herself between the Phoenix siblings. 

"Now, don't be such a grouch, Johnny." she jokingly reprimands. "A serious frown keeps everyone down." 

Nessa, Triton, Caleb, and Brooke all snicker at the short poem Adelaide crafted.

Not only did it irritate Johnny but it helped them take their minds off of the racist poachers. 

Speaking of Johnny, he informs the others that he is going to get a cup of hot chocolate. 

Triton, who knew the restaurant from the back of his hand, accompanies him to the lunch counter. 

Seeing her laugh for the first time, Adelaide smirked: "I thought you had forgotten that stupid poem."

Her daughter furrowed her brows in disbelief.

"What do you mean?" she asks in a strange tone. "You used to say that cheesy rhyme for me every time I get sad."

Thomas did a sad smile. "I am surprised you said that, Brooke."

"Why?"

"Because we haven't been a part of your life."

Brooke's entire face reddens. 

Sensing the awkward tension, Caleb tells her that he and Nessa are going to check out the bookshelves.

While Caleb and Nessa get up to check out the bookshelves, Thomas sits on the wooden chair right beside his nervous daughter and ruffles her hair.

"You have every right to blame us, kiddo." he went on. "It was unfair for your kooky Aunt Hazel to spend every day looking after you." 

Brooke shakes her head in dismay. 

Though Aunt Hazel is an incredible actress, she comes up with absurd theories regarding apparitions and demons. 

But even so, Aunt Hazel and Brooke would cook vegan dishes, share laughs, watched The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and even talked about boys. 

"We understand that you don't care about what we have to say," she mumbled. "but your father and I have missed you terribly." 

Brooke nods and squeezes her mother's hands back. 

"Look, Mom and Dad," she begins to say. "I do appreciate you guys being here, but you can't just show up every time I get into trouble."

Thomas ruffles Brooke's curly hair. "You're right, kiddo. We're sorry we didn't keep in touch."

Brooke puts on a sad smile. "At least we get to spend some quality time together."

Adelaide leaned her head forward so she can kiss her daughter on her nose.

"I love you, sweetie," she says in a soothing tone.

Brooke smiled as her hands caressed the worn lines around Adelaide's cheeks. 

"I love you, too," she whispered. 

Adelaide smiles as she plants her plump lips on Brooke's forehead.

In the meantime, Nessa and Caleb collected every book regarding ancient sea lore. Caleb shows Nessa a book about a vicious siren that puzzled her. 

"What about this one?" he suggested.

Nessa gives him an unusual look. 

"You seriously think the Little Mermaid's crazy stepsister had something to do with the disappearances?"

"Why not?" asked Caleb. "They lure sailors to their deaths."

She ponders for a minute before shrugging her shoulders. "Okay, I guess it will work." 

Delighted, her comrade drops the book in the empty basket and searches for more useful material. 

Meanwhile, Nessa picked out several volumes of monstrous leviathans, carnivorous sea dragons, and treacherous multi-armed beasts.  

She briefly scans the titles when she notices a sixteen-year-old Greek-Italian boy organizing the books on worn shelves. 

He has olive-brown skin and wears dark tinted glasses; everyone wore winter clothes except for the young employee.

Today, he is wearing a gray sweater, baggy jeans, and a woolen gray cap to cover his hair. And when I say hair, I mean a spaghetti of venomous green snakes slithering on his head. 

The loud hissing startled Nessa, but she kept her cool and asked the boy his name. 

"My name is Arthur Gorgon." introduced the kid. "But people call me Art for short."

He held out his hand and Caleb firmly shakes it. 

"Interesting nickname," Nessa remarked. "Do your friends call you that or what?" 

Arthur flashes her a fake smile.

"I'll let you know if I made one." he snorts.

"Anyway, what do you guys need?"

"We would like to find a book that talks every superstition around the world," replied Caleb.

Art gazes down at the wooden basket near their feet. He was surprised to see enormous books covering the empty spaces. 

"Whoa," he breathed. "Don't you two have enough books already?"

"We have a project due after winter break." lied Nessa.

"Really?" Art frowned. "Your teacher is an ass."

"She is," Nessa replies in a bitter tone.

"But as my friend said before, we need a book for a school project. Do you think you can help us out?"

Arthur did a casual shrug. "I'll see what I can do."