Читать книгу Haunted: Penance / After the Lightning / Seeing Red - Debra Cowan - Страница 6

Barrett, Michigan, 2006

The wailing sirens and shouting voices receded to a faint hum as the light flashed before Ariel’s eyes. Glowing through a thin veil of mist, bright but not blinding, it granted her such clarity that she could see what others could not.

The little girl. Her big, dark eyes wide in her pale face, her black hair hanging in limp curls around her cheeks and over her shoulders. In that pale yellow dress she’d favored, she was dressed for school. But she wasn’t there, safe in Ariel’s second-grade classroom. Not now. She hovered before the ramshackle house, back from the curb where police cars and an ambulance blocked the street.

Ariel had left her Jeep farther down the road and walked to the house, which sat on the edge of commercial property, only businesses and warehouses surrounding it and a handful of other rundown rental houses. No trees. No grass. No yard in which a child could play. Ariel had ducked under the crime scene tape roping off the property. She didn’t need to rush around like all the other people, the ones trying to figure out what had happened or how to help. Before she’d even arrived, she’d known what had happened and that it was too late for help.

As she blinked back tears, the mist thickened and the light faded, dimly shining on just the little girl, who, too, was fading and dissolving into the mist. Ariel reached out a hand, trying to hold on to her, trying to keep her from leaving. Her voice thick with emotion, she whispered the child’s name, “Haylee…”

The little girl whispered back, her mouth moving with words Ariel couldn’t hear. What did she want to tell her? Goodbye?

The tears fell now, sliding down Ariel’s cheeks, blurring Haylee from her vision. “I’m not ready to let you go….”

She was too young to be alone. Only eight. And she’d get no older now.

Ariel’s heart ached so much she trembled with the pain. As she shook, the charm dangling from the bracelet on her wrist swayed back and forth. Her hand was still extended, reaching for Haylee as the child faded away. Ariel’s fingers clutched at the mist, slipping through the gossamer wisps until she touched something solid. Something strong and warm.

Arms closed around her. A hand pressed her face against a hard shoulder. On a gasping breath, she drew in the rich scent of leather and man. Her man.

Even with her eyes closed, she saw David as vividly as if she were staring up at him. Although she wasn’t petite at five ten, David towered above her and everyone else. With his golden hair and dark eyes, he was a throwback to the conquering Vikings of centuries ago, not so much in appearance as attitude. Or perhaps a black knight, for he was dressed all in black today—black leather jacket, black silk shirt and black pants.

His deep voice rumbled as he told her, “You shouldn’t be here. I’m going to take you home.”

“H-how did you know?” she asked. How did he always know where she was and when she needed him? She hadn’t called him. She should have. She realized that as she glanced up at his face, his square jaw taut and hard, his dark eyes guarded. But she’d called Ty McIntyre instead—for his badge, not his support.

“Did Ty call you?” Of course the police officer would have called David. They’d been best friends since they were little kids—or so they’d told her. She hadn’t known either man that long, just long enough to fall for David.

“Ty’s here?” David asked. “Oh, my God, is he the injured officer?”

Ariel blinked the last of the mist away. As it vanished, the faint hum she heard morphed into a cacophony of sirens and shouts. For the first time since arriving on the scene, she became aware of the reporters shouting out questions from the curb as officers held them back. “Mr. Koster, why are you here? What’s your involvement?”

Her. If Ty hadn’t called David, the live coverage of the scene must have been how he’d known where she was. She didn’t ask him, though, because he’d started toward the house. Unlike the media, the officers never attempted to stop him. Everyone knew the richest man in Barrett, Michigan.

They didn’t know her. Until David’s appearance, neither the police nor the reporters had really noticed her.

“Who is that with you?” a reporter called out now as Ariel followed David, his shadow falling across her.

“Who’s the redhead?” another one shouted.

David ignored them, intent on the house, its door gaping open on broken hinges.

“Ty’s hurt?” she asked him, her voice cracking. She never would have called him had she known it would put him in danger.

“I don’t know. I have to find him,” David said, then glanced down at her. “But I don’t want you to come inside the house.”

His dark eyes soft with concern, he obviously feared what she might see. If he only knew…But that was perhaps the only thing he didn’t know about her—what she saw. She couldn’t tell him because she couldn’t explain what she didn’t understand herself.

“I’ll be all right,” she promised him. It was an empty promise because she had no way of knowing if she spoke the truth. No way of knowing what might happen next. That gift had been her mother’s, not hers.

He must have assumed she meant she’d be okay by herself outside, for he withdrew his arm and started toward the gaping door. But before he could step inside, two men filed out wearing medical examiner’s jackets and carrying a small black body bag on a gurney between them.

Haylee’s body, battered and broken, lay inside that bag. But not her spirit. Her spirit hovered yet on the mist, which thickened even as the light brightened. Everything receded again, the shouts of the reporters, the flashes of their cameras. She saw nothing but Haylee again.

“Ariel.” David called her name as his arm came around her shoulders, lending his strength and support with his closeness.

“Where’s Ty?” she asked, but a glance up answered her question. The officer stood near David, his dark hair rumpled, his face swollen and blood seeping through his dark T-shirt.

“What the hell happened?” David asked his friend.

Ty blew out a ragged breath. “Son of a bitch killed his daughter, then resisted arrest.”

“Wh-where is he?” Ariel stammered.

He nodded toward the house. “Still inside.”

“He’s dead?” David asked.

Another nod.

Ariel hadn’t seen Haylee’s father. But then, since he’d abused his own child, he’d probably lost his soul long ago. She gestured toward Ty’s T-shirt, where the blood seeped. “You’re hurt. You need help.”

With just a look toward the curb, David summoned paramedics, who rushed up to help his friend. “Take him to Mercy,” he directed them. “Dr. Meadows will be waiting.” His cell phone was out, pressed to his ear, before Ty could be helped toward the ambulance.

He refused the gurney, walking by himself instead. As he moved forward, unbeknownst to him, he stepped into the mist and passed through the fading image of Haylee. Ariel gasped as he turned back, his blue gaze meeting hers for just a moment before he swayed on his feet.

“He’ll be all right,” David said, his voice even deeper with conviction. “He’s strong.”

Despite his claim, David led her back toward the ambulance into which Ty was being helped. All color had drained from the officer’s face, leaving it as stark and pale as Haylee’s. He whispered to Ariel, too, but his words she heard. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head, the regret all hers. She hadn’t sent him here to help Haylee. She’d known it was already too late for that when the mist had swirled into the classroom where she taught second grade and the student she’d thought absent had appeared. Like so many others Ariel had seen over the years—as a ghost.

The woman reached trembling fingers toward the television, brushing them over the image on the screen. Although the glass was cold beneath her skin, warmth spread through her. “Ariel…”

Not much of the child she’d been was left in the beautiful woman Ariel had become. Her hair was long now and a richer, more vibrant red that stood out like blood against the dead lawn of the property surrounded by crime-scene tape. Her face had thinned, her eyes, large and haunted, overpowering the delicate features of her nose and mouth.

Haunted. That was what this child was. The camera caught her reaching out toward empty space, but Myra knew what her daughter saw. The spirits had always been drawn to Ariel, even when she’d been a child. Myra wasn’t sure if Ariel had seen them then, but she obviously saw them now.

Then Myra glimpsed the charm dangling from Ariel’s thin wrist. She slid her fingertips across its image on the screen. Even though she touched glass, not the charm, she felt the heat of the little pewter sun, power radiating from it. If Ariel only knew…

Myra should have told her children everything that night so long ago when they’d been taken from her. She should have prepared them better to deal with their gifts and the curse. But they’d been so young.

Tears burned her eyes, blinding her to Ariel’s face. Giving them up had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, but they’d deserved better than her. They had deserved to live as normal lives as they could with the gifts they’d inherited. They’d deserved to be safe.

Pain pounded at her temples as pictures rolled through Myra’s mind, visions of her children. They weren’t safe. Not anymore. Maybe she’d given them up for nothing. She hadn’t hidden them from danger; she’d made them more vulnerable to it.

Weak in the knees, Myra settled back onto the hard wooden chair next to the round table covered with a brightly patterned cloth like the ones covering the walls that transformed her little trailer from drab to exotic. In the middle of the table a crystal ball glittered, reflecting the images from the television.

Mostly she used the ball as a prop, something to open the wallets of superstitious souls looking for a brighter future. So she didn’t always tell them what she saw inside her head but what she knew they wanted to hear. For a little while, they’d be happy and she’d be richer. But just for a little while.

That was as long as her happiness had ever lasted, when she’d fallen for Elena’s dad, when she’d had her children. She’d never been able to keep anyone she’d loved. She’d like to blame the curse, but she suspected it was her own fault, her cowardice.

But could anyone be happy forever? She would never know.

She leaned over the table, peering into the crystal. Myra could see no future in that ball, not for her. Not for her children.

All that reflected in the crystal was the television screen, the flash of red of Ariel’s long hair, startling against the cream-colored sweater she wore. Myra lifted her gaze to the TV, to the face of her beautiful daughter. The camera zoomed in, catching the anguish brightening her turquoise eyes with unshed tears.

“Oh, baby, it might already be too late for you,” she said on a ragged sigh. “Like it’s too late for me.”

She didn’t have time to warn them; if she tried, she might lead the threat to their doors. She didn’t have time to run. She’d seen the danger and it was closing in on her. Fast. It might already be stalking her children.

“Keep your eyes open, baby,” she advised her daughter, wishing Ariel could hear her. But telepathy wasn’t this child’s gift.

“He might already be there, with you,” she warned as a man’s arms closed around the woman on television, pulling her close. To protect her? Or harm her?

Hopefully her daughter had better taste in men than she had. Myra had chosen the wrong man to love, one who would never be able to love her back. But then, no man had been able to do that…once they’d learned the truth about her. That was why she’d started using them: for money, for security. But even that hadn’t lasted. They’d paid her to go away, not wanting anything to do with her or the children they’d fathered. Their money hadn’t lasted, either; she’d used it to try to drown the visions and outrun the curse, both exercises in futility. She was ready to accept her fate.

But not her children’s.

Her heart pounded as she watched those leather-bound arms wrap tight around her daughter, holding her close. Because he loved her? A tear trickled down Myra’s cheek with her doubts. Ariel was beautiful. But she was cursed.

Giving them up hadn’t saved her children; it had only prolonged the inevitable. Myra swayed, nearly toppling the chair, as a vision crashed through her mind: Ariel lying on a dirty cement floor, her turquoise eyes wide open but blinded…by death.

With a crack of static, the television blackened to a spark in the middle of the screen, swallowing the image of Ariel in David’s arms. Ariel, curled in her favorite chair, lifted her head toward David, who held the remote in a tight fist. He’d just walked into her sunny yellow living room, dwarfing it with his size and presence. For better reception, he’d had to take his cell outside to phone the hospital. While he’d been gone, she’d received a call from the school board to suspend her.

“Is he all right?” she asked, her concern all for Ty. She’d deal with her pain later, by herself, as she always had.

He jerked his head in a short nod. “Yes. Twenty-two stitches later. But he lost a lot of blood. They’re keeping him overnight.”

“You should go. Be with him. I’m fine,” she assured him. It wasn’t the first time she’d lied to him. An old Gypsy proverb teased at her memory. There are such things as false truths and honest lies.

Her mother had used that proverb to justify how she’d made her living, traveling town to town conning people. Although only a child at the time she’d helped her mother, Ariel had known the staged séances and the phony crystal ball had been wrong. But her mother had insisted that sometimes it was better for people to hear lies than the truth; it hurt them less.

David tossed down the remote with such force that it bounced against the couch cushions, then he called her on the lie. “No, you’re not fine. What were you thinking?”

Thinking? It didn’t work that way. She didn’t think. She just saw. Then she had to find a way to deal with what she’d seen. Numbness worked, but it always wore off too soon.

David didn’t give her time to answer his question—even if she could—before he fired off another. “Do you know what could have happened to you?”

Shuddering, she crossed her arms over her chest, cupping her shoulders to still her trembling. She knew better than he did. Poor Haylee. The grief rushed in, squeezing her heart, but she refused to let the shock cripple her as it had at the crime scene. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling against the mist.

Strong hands closed around her arms, pulling her out of the chair. David didn’t enfold her in an embrace, just held her close enough so that their bodies brushed. Tension radiated from his long, hard frame. Usually Ariel melted against him whenever he touched her; today she stiffened, knowing that if she weakened, even a little, she would dissolve into a puddle of hysterical tears.

“That could be you, in the hospital, like Ty,” he said, his voice vibrating with emotion. “Or worse, you could be in the morgue with that little girl.”

“Haylee,” she whispered her name.

“Oh, God…” He leaned over, touching his forehead to hers, with tenderness now, his anger spent. “I know and I’m so sorry, Ariel. You told me about her.”

Her fears for the child. He’d adamantly supported her decision to trust her instincts and call social services, and when she’d met resistance to investigate Haylee’s father over lack of resources and proof, David had intervened. He’d made sure someone had been sent out to the little girl’s house, but that hadn’t been enough.

“You tried to help her, Ariel.”

She should have done more. She should have protected her even if she’d had to kidnap her and run away. Her heart clenched, hurting, and she blinked back the threatening tears. “I failed her.” Maybe that was why the school board had suspended her.

“Her father did. Not you.” He sighed, his ragged breath stirring her hair. “If you’d gotten there before Ty had, he could have killed you, too.”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t there long, David, just a little while before you.”

“I wouldn’t have been there at all if I hadn’t seen you on the breaking news flash across my computer screen.” He always had on the computer instead of the television because that was what he did—designed computers and software. He was Barrett, Michigan’s answer to Bill Gates, as inventive, rich and powerful. But much more reclusive.

He hated media attention, but because of her, vans from local news stations currently blocked the street to his building. So he’d driven away from it and brought her home instead, to her little bungalow in a quiet, tree-lined burb of Barrett. Ariel would rather be here, inside the sunny yellow walls of her cheerful house. But its bright colors and tall, sun-filled windows couldn’t cheer her today. Nothing could.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, his jaw taut.

“It was too late,” she said, sighing. Even with all his money, he couldn’t have done anything for Haylee.

Life was so damned unfair. What was the point of seeing ghosts when she couldn’t do anything for them? She hadn’t asked for this ability; she’d tried to ignore it. Anger rushed in, chasing away the last of her shock. She was ready to fight, to kick and hit something or someone, to lash out against the helplessness. Her hands clenched into fists.

“I could have been there with you, supporting you, protecting you. You shouldn’t have gone by yourself,” David said, his grip on her shoulders tightening.

She shivered, tempted to lean against him, to let his strong arms close around her and lift her burdens. But relying on someone was dangerous for Ariel; any time she had, she’d been hurt. In the six months they’d been dating, although David had always been attentive and caring, she couldn’t trust that he’d always be there for her. No one else had. She could rely only on herself.

“I called Ty,” she told him, but when he flinched, she realized he didn’t need a reminder. She shruggedhis hands off her shoulders and stepped around him, bristling. Anger was a defense mechanism. Hadn’t one shrink or another told her that over the years? But like her ability to see ghosts, she couldn’t suppress the feeling from bubbling up, so she lashed out, “That’s what’s really wrong! You’re jealous!”

David’s dark eyes narrowed as he studied her, assessing her as he might a computer glitch. “Ariel…”

“Is that the problem?” she asked, slinging the question like a slap. “That I called Ty instead of you?”

“The problem is,” David said, his deep voice steady with reason, “that you went alone to a house where you know an abusive man lived. You put your life in danger.”

“The police were there before I was.” So had been the ambulance.

For Ty? Or for Haylee’s father? She should have expected that the violent man would resist arrest. She never should have called Ty and put him in danger. He was David’s best friend; that was probably why he’d flinched, over his friend getting hurt because of her. She should have called 911 instead. Ty hadn’t even been on duty.

“So you called the police before you went over,” David said, his jaw relaxing a bit as his tension eased. Then his dark eyes narrowed. “How did you know Haylee was in danger?”

She couldn’t tell him about seeing the little girl’s ghost and risk having David look at her as so many others had. Already he studied her, raising her defenses even more. He couldn’t find out the truth or he’d reject her as everyone else had.

“You know I suspected abuse,” she explained, hoping that would satisfy his sudden curiosity.

“Why didn’t you call social services again?” he asked, his dark eyes intent on her face. “Why the police this time?”

“You know what social services did last time,” she reminded him as bitterness joined her anger, churning in her stomach. “Nothing.”

This time. Social services had taken her and her sisters away from her mom, and they’d never been in danger despite the unconventional lifestyle they’d lived. But for Haylee, with her sad eyes and fading bruises, they’d done nothing. Of course the child had been too frightened to tell them the truth about her home situation, about how since her mother had died, her father drank too much and beat her. She hadn’t even told Ariel despite how close they’d grown, but Ariel had been able to figure it out. Why hadn’t social services?

“How did you know something had happened to her?” David persisted.

She couldn’t tell him how; he would never understand. None of the foster families with whom she’d lived growing up had understood that she was cursed. They’d thought her crazy instead. Some had told her so, others had just looked at her with pitying expressions, like the ones passersby cast at homeless people who ramble incoherently. She’d rather David be mad at her than look at her that way.

“Stop the inquisition already,” she said, whirling away from him to stalk over to the windows. Through the gauzy white curtains she noticed a van with a satellite dish atop it parked across the street. Obviously they’d been followed. “You’re worse than the reporters.”

“Son of a bitch,” he said, blowing out a ragged breath as he joined her at the window. “Damn vultures.”

“Why do you hate the press so much?” Other businessmen might have enjoyed the free publicity. Not David.

His square jaw tautened as he peered through the curtain. “They’re relentless, with no qualms over invading people’s privacy.”

And he was all about privacy. But then, so was Ariel. That need was one of the few things they had in common. The other was the attraction that hummed between them even now. Heat emanated from his body as he stood close behind her at the window. Even though inches separated them, it was as if he touched her. She could feel him against her skin, inside her heart.

“I’ll call my security team, have someone run them off from the Towers.” The high-rise in downtown Barrett that housed both his business and penthouse. He leaned closer, his breath warm against her neck. “I’ll take you there.”

“No.” She didn’t want to leave her cozy home for the cold, sterile building of glass, metal and marble where David lived.

“Ariel, you’ll be safer there.”

“Safe from whom?” The reporters wouldn’t hurt her, at least not anymore, if it had been media coverage that had precipitated her suspension. The man who’d hurt Haylee was dead. The only one who could hurt her now was David. She shivered, uncertain of the origin of her errant thought. Sure, he was intense, but he would never harm her. Physically. If he knew the truth, he might hurt her emotionally. And he was getting too close, asking too many questions about how she’d known Haylee was in trouble.

The past several years she’d been careful to avoid getting deeply involved with anyone. She’d had her heart handed back to her so many times before that she’d promised she’d never give it away again. But David hadn’t asked for it, he’d just taken it. That was the kind of man he was, stronger and more powerful than any she’d known before.

“Ariel,” he began, his deep voice soft with patience as he tried again to reason with her. “I have to get you away from the reporters. I don’t want them harassing you.”

“They’re not the ones harassing me,” she pointed out, turning away from the window.

He lifted his chin as if she’d physically slapped him this time. “And I am?”

“You’re not helping. I lost a student, a precious little girl I cared about, and all you’re doing is yelling at me and firing questions at me!” Or was she the one picking the fight? Her anger built, fueled by the nagging fear that he might learn the truth. “Do you care about me at all? Or are you just upset about the press coverage? Are you worried about me or your reputation?”

David’s face paled as his eyes widened. “Ariel?”

He wasn’t the only one shocked. She’d never talked to him like that, not once since she’d met him when Haylee had brought them together with a letter. Ariel had had all her students write one to David’s company, requesting a computer donation for their struggling public elementary school. But it had been Haylee’s letter praising her teacher that had compelled David to visit their classroom. That was all it had taken for Ariel to fall for him.

The blond Adonis with the brilliant mind and generous heart. She’d never met a man like him. He hadn’t wanted any acknowledgment of the donation he’d made—enough computers not just for their small school but for the entire district. He’d only wanted her phone number. She’d given him so much more. Her heart. Now he would probably return it.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked, his deep voice vibrating with hurt.

She pressed her palms to his hard chest as if to push him away, but as always, electricity arced between them, tingling in her veins as her blood rushed. All it ever took was one touch, sometimes just a look, for her to want him. What would she do if she lost him? If he walked away or, worse yet, left her as Haylee had? Fear gripped her, dredging up all the pain from her past. She couldn’t go through that again. Not even for David. “David, I’m sorry—”

His hands skimmed down her back, pressing her tight against him. Then he tipped up her chin so she couldn’t escape his dark gaze. “How can you think that I don’t care about you? Haven’t I shown you?”

He had. In so many ways. Not with his wallet—as would be easy for a man of his means—but with his time and attention, something few people had ever given Ariel. He called her, wishing her good mornings and good-nights. He sent her e-mails throughout the day telling her how beautiful she was inside and out, how much he respected her patience to teach little kids, how he couldn’t wait to see her again. Even though he tried showing her how much she meant to him, she still doubted that any man could care about her if he really knew her and knew what she was.

He deserved the truth. But she couldn’t risk giving him that. Besides rejecting her, besides thinking her crazy, he might think her a danger to herself. He was the kind of man who tried to protect others. What if he had her locked away, as some of her former foster parents had? Her heart lurched with fear and dread, and she blinked back tears. “David—”

His mouth came down on hers, silencing her. With sipping kisses, he coaxed her lips to open for him. But he only tasted her, his tongue just touching hers, before he pulled back and skimmed his lips across her jaw to the arch of her neck. Ariel bit her lip to hold back a moan as he nibbled, his teeth scraping lightly across her skin. Then he buried his face in her hair, his breath blowing hot and hard against her throat. Ariel shivered even as her blood rushed through her veins.

His chest rose and fell beneath her palms, tempting Ariel to peel away his black silk shirt to reveal the satin skin covering taut muscles. To slide her lips from his throat to his collarbone and lower. He always shuddered when she did that.

“How can you doubt me?” he whispered into her ear, his deep voice vibrating.

Because she doubted herself and her strength to survive another rejection. Her fingers knotted in his shirt, wrinkling the expensive fabric. She wanted to hold on to him, but unless he knew the truth, that wasn’t fair…to either of them.

“I’m not good for you, David.” Not in the way he deserved. He needed someone sweet and uncomplicated. Someone uncursed.

“Are you talking about my reputation again?” he asked, pulling away from her.

Deprived of the heat of his embrace, she shivered again, this time as a foreboding chill raced across her skin. If he was worried about bad press now, what would happen if the media ever got wind of the past of the woman he was dating? He would have no privacy, no peace…until he distanced himself from her. Forever.

“I’m talking about your pride,” she said, grasping at any excuse.

His forehead creased with confusion. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re upset I called Ty instead of you? It’s why you hate publicity. You put your own pride before me,” she accused, lifting her defenses again with anger as she tried to provoke his. She wanted him to walk away now…before she weakened so much she forgot her pride and begged him to stay.

He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Why are you pushing me away?”

He was the one who’d pulled back physically. But emotionally she was doing as he accused, to protect herself as well as him. He was too good a man to live with her curse.

“If I’m pushing, why are you still here?” she asked, her heart aching as she struggled with her fears. “Just leave.”

“Ariel?” Bewildered and hurt, his voice cracked on her name.

“Just leave me alone!” she shouted, all her anger and desperation raw and exposed in her shaking voice.

He drew in a ragged breath, and his chin lifted with the pride she’d accused him of putting before her. “If that’s what you want, fine.”

She closed her eyes, not opening them until the slam of the front door shook the thin walls of her house. She couldn’t watch him walk away from her, not the way she’d watched Haylee fade into the mist. Once his temper calmed, he’d be back.

By then, she would be gone.

They circled him, these women cloaked in darkness with hooded robes covering their hair and shadowing their faces. Even as flames licked up from the blazing fire, they remained in shadow. The glow lit up the night sky while the smoke hung low, gathering thickly just above the ground, choking him. His lungs fought desperately for breath, and as he gasped and coughed, they laughed, their voices clear and melodious.

And malicious.

The laughter echoed in his ears, in his head, like thunder, splitting his skull. Pain throbbed at his temples, at his neck, radiating throughout his body until he shuddered under the force of it.

They were killing him. His chest ached as the last of his breath escaped him. The fire blurred, then burned on his lids as he closed his eyes on the life he’d known. But even then the pain wouldn’t go away. There was no welcome release from it. No peace.

He jerked awake, throwing back the blankets tangled around him like the ropes with which they’d bound him. As he staggered from the bed, he bumped against the nightstand, knocking the journal to the cold, hard floor. The bang as the book struck the wood ricocheted like a gunshot through his skull.

Careful to move slowly as he bent over, he reached for the journal. His family’s history. His legacy, locked away for years, discounted as the incomprehensible ramblings of a crazy man. No one had understood his ancestor. Until now. Until just the few short weeks ago he’d come into possession of the journal and read it. If only he’d known sooner…about the curse, about the power of the charms and the witches. Now he understood his dreams, the black-and-white visions of his future. It was his curse. His demise.

If they got to him first.

But now that he knew about the witches and knew about their powers, he would be able to find them. To reclaim the charms and stop them.

To kill them before they killed him.