If you’re just finding this story, go back to Episode 1 — Clouds from the Ocean.
Nothing ever starts when you think it does.
By the time Caleb noticed the clouds, the storm had already been moving for a while.
If you are all caught up ejoy thinks weeks story!
Gina and Javier drag Caleb up the stairs to Apartment 13. His weight hangs between them, boots scuffing the chipped concrete. The hallway light flickers like it’s short of breath.
Javier shoulders the door open. Gina kicks it shut behind them.
They lower Caleb onto the bed. He sucks in air through his teeth but waves them off.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“You’re not fine,” Mellisa snaps, already pulling a blanket over him.
They don’t undress. Don’t brush teeth. Don’t speak again. They just collapse wherever there’s space—bed, floor, against the wall. The city outside hums like nothing happened.
Caleb stares at the ceiling.
Mellisa stares at Caleb.
“You’re not going to school,” she whispers.
“I am.”
“You almost died.”
“I need normal.”
She turns on her side to face him. “Normal doesn’t need you bleeding through your shirt.”
He doesn’t answer.
What he doesn’t know—what none of them know—is that normal can break you too.
Morning leaks through the blinds.
Gina’s phone vibrates first. Then Caleb’s. Missed calls stack up: Danielle. Terrence. Danielle. Terrence.
Javier rubs his eyes. “We skipping?”
Caleb sits up too fast and grips his ribs. “No.”
Even Javier hesitates. He glances toward the window, toward Old Westside somewhere beyond the buildings. “I could go check Kingsley. See if anything’s changed.”
“It’s always changing,” Caleb mutters.
Mellisa watches her brother. “We could just… not do this anymore.”
Javier meets her eyes. “Alonso doesn’t stop because we’re tired.”
Silence.
Caleb swings his legs off the bed. “Let’s go.”
Westside High rises out of the morning haze, brick glowing gold in the sun. Students spill across the lawn. Laughter. Backpacks. A bell rings like any other day.
Camila spots him first.
“Caleb!” She runs over and throws her arms around him. “Where were you?”
Miles claps his shoulder. Naiomi looks him up and down. Jamal shakes his head. “Bro vanished.”
Caleb forces a grin. “Got swept up by a wave. Slammed into some rocks. Phone’s toast.”
“A wave?” Camila squints. “Since when do waves win against you?”
He shrugs. “Guess it was a big one.”
They laugh. It almost feels real.
Almost.
By third period, Collin Lee corners him by the lockers.
“Captain can’t disappear mid-season,” Collin says, spinning a baseball in his hand. “We need people who show up.”
Caleb stares at the ball. “I’m here.”
“For now.”
Coach Z barely looks at him during drills. Whistles blow. Sneakers squeak. The world keeps moving.
At practice, Caleb winds up to throw. His side pulls tight. He ignores it. Throws again.
And again.
On the third pitch, something tears.
Heat blooms down his leg.
He looks down. Red spreads through white baseball pants.
The field goes quiet.
The nurse presses gauze to his side.
“These aren’t rock scrapes,” she says gently.
“I told you. A wave.”
She studies him for a long moment. Then picks up the phone.
The car ride home is heavy.
Terrence drives. Caleb watches the road unspool ahead.
“The nurse said those were bite marks,” Terrence says finally. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I told you. Rocks.”
“All those years of junior lifeguard training. And a wave takes you out?”
Caleb’s jaw tightens. He says nothing.
They turn onto their street. A one-story white Spanish house waits under the sun, terra-cotta shingles glowing warm.
A green Mazda hums in the driveway.
Beside it—tan Lexus.
Caleb’s breath catches.
“She’s still here,” he murmurs.
“Of course she is,” Terrence says. “She’s been worried sick.”
Caleb opens the door before the engine dies. Tears burn, but he swallows them.
“Caleb?” Terrence calls.
He bolts inside. Down the hall. Bedroom door slams.
Terrence stands in the doorway.
Danielle rises from the couch. TJ and Gina hover nearby.
“Everything okay?” Danielle asks.
Terrence exhales. “Was he like this when you found him?”
Gina shrinks under their eyes.
“Gina,” Danielle says, voice trembling. “Please. What happened?”
Gina stares at the floor. “It’s better if he tells you.”
Danielle walks down the hall like each step costs her something. She knocks softly.
“Caleb?”
No answer.
She opens the door.
The room is empty.
Wind lifts the curtains above the open window. A sheet of notebook paper lies on the bed.
Danielle picks it up.
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry for being so angry.
Your love means more than I ever said.
I’m doing this to protect you.
Tears blur the ink.
Terrence appears in the doorway. “You two okay?”
He sees the empty room.
They don’t speak.
Caleb’s breath comes sharp as he rounds the block. The white van idles at the curb.
Javier leans across and pushes the passenger door open.
Caleb climbs in.
They pull away.
Old Westside waits at the edge of town where pavement crumbles into dirt and weeds push through cracked sidewalks.
“So,” Javier says, fingers drumming the wheel. “What’s the plan?”
“Get in. Find out what Alonso’s planning. Get out.”
“And if the hooded creeps are there?”
Caleb stares into the rearview mirror. Ray guns glow faint blue in the back.
His jaw tightens.
“Then we blast them.”
Javier grins and pounds the roof. The van swerves.
“Focus,” Caleb mutters.
They park beneath a dead eucalyptus and wait for sundown. They pass time with cards, old jokes, silence.
At one point Caleb says, too casually, “When this is over, I’m marrying your sister.”
Javier snorts. “You better survive first.”
From the shadows, Mellisa steps forward. “We heard that.”
Gina beside her rolls her eyes. “You idiots thought we’d stay home?”
The last light bleeds out over the shoreline.
They move.
Kingsley Manor looms above the bluff, windows dark, paint peeling like shedding skin.
The front door groans open under Caleb’s hand.
Inside, the air smells old. Damp. Alive.
Floorboards whisper beneath their steps.
They move room to room, moonlight slicing through broken windows. Dust floats like it’s breathing.
Caleb leads, gun raised. Every shadow feels close.
They find the staircase.
Upstairs, a long hallway stretches ahead, doors lining both sides.
“Split up,” Caleb whispers. “Check them.”
Handles rattle. Locked.
Locked.
Locked.
One door bears a branded symbol burned deep into the wood.
Mellisa kneels. Pulls a thin tool from her pocket.
“Since when—” Caleb starts.
“Since always,” she murmurs.
The lock clicks.
The door opens.
Inside, a grand bedroom—canopy bed draped in rotting silk, a desk against the far wall.
Gina rifles drawers. “Guys.”
She pulls out a leather-bound book.
George Kingsley.
Caleb flips it open. Pages filled with cramped ink.
The slugs will serve as the Fae’s vanguard.
The portal beneath the manor will open when the seals are fed.
The Vampire King will rise beside her.
Caleb’s pulse pounds.
They weren’t collecting slugs.
They were building an army.
The front door downstairs slams open.
Voices flood the house.
Caleb snaps the diary shut and shoves it into his coat.
Boots thud across the first floor.
A man’s voice cracks through the air. “Please—please, you don’t have to—”
A sharp sound cuts him off.
Gina’s whisper trembles. “We need to go. Now.”
She moves toward the door.
The floorboard beneath her screams.
She freezes. “Damn.”
Footsteps thunder up the stairs.
Gina lunges and quickly shuts the door. It clicks shut, just as hooded figures reach the landing.
The voices from the hallway echo. The kids hold their breath.
The manor feels awake now.
Listening.
Waiting.
Thank you for reading!
If you want to know what set all of this in motion—
the friendships, the lies, the first time the Westside cracked—
those stories are waiting in Season One.