Premonition

Soon-to-be college freshman Evie Claremont had hoped that once she'd arrived on Crestwood's campus, the nightmare that she'd been having would go away. It hasn't. She may be an inexperienced seventeen-year-old, but she's grounded . . . sane. She looks for rational explanations to even the strangest circumstances. Since meeting sophomore Reed Wellington, however, nothing makes any sense. Whenever he's near, she feels an attraction to him-a magnetic kind of force pulling her towards him. Unfortunately, Reed acts as if Evie's the worst thing that has ever happened to Crestwood . . . or him. But for some reason every time she turns around he's there, barging into her life. What is the secret that he's keeping from her? Evie's hoping that it's anything but what she suspects: that he's not exactly normal . . . and neither is she. So, maybe Crestwood won't be the making of her, but it could be the breaking of her. Evie's now left to wonder if the dark future her dream is foretelling is . . . inescapable.

Evie doesn't open her eyes so she can't see him, but she can smell him. He thickens the air she breathes, choking her with his scent . . . his aroma. She shivers. She has to resist. If she's not strong, then she will be relegated to the same fate as this predator whose sickness infects her even now. But now, she craves him and he knows that; he has been counting on her need to end the gnawing pain. How he would savor her surrender. She's alive, but how much longer will it take until she begs him not to be?

Evie hangs her head in sorrow for just a moment when she knows she is truly alone. She feels like she's going to her execution, just as he had said. Then she moves forward again. She hops a fence of fieldstone and crosses a field dotted with Queen Anne's lace. Goose bumps rise on her arms as she passes the cluster of windmills that she's seen in a dream. The scent is sweet in the field though, not the scent of heat, like it had been when it was forced upon her in visions. She gazes down the hill, beyond the small, whitewashed house that she knew would be there. The church looms dark and grim with its rough-hewn, timber facade, capped by tall, oblong spires reaching to the sky. Black, ominous clouds have collected above the roofline, as if Heaven is showing her the way.

Cold, fine drops of rain fall softly on Evie's cheeks as she emerges from the darkness of the ship's interior to the gray, overcast sky of the main deck. Pulling her dark peacoat tighter to her body, the wind lifts red tendrils of her hair. She walks slowly to the railing overlooking the water. She catches her first sight of the Irish coastline; its craggy landscape makes her shiver in dread. She finds it difficult to imagine now how the Gancanagh had made this their home for so long without anyone realizing it. The cold, moss-covered edifices practically scream their presence. As she studies the shadows between the falling-down stone, she imagines creeping shapes of undead Faeries grasping the rock, waiting for their ship to draw nearer to their position. Tipping her face up, she lets the rain wash over her. It bathes away the frigid sweat of fear that has broken on her brow. 'You don't know how fiercely beautiful you are, do you?' a quiet voice behind her asks, causing her to stiffen and fix her eyes on the rocks along the shoreline.

I gasp as my body curls toward Brennus like a flower to the sun, for the pleasure of it. He holds me close to him. His nose grazes the length of my neck. He breathes me in. I feel the roar and rush of my heartbeat. I'm his toy; his energy streams into me. He winds the invisible key in my back, and the euphoria ratchets and coils inside of me. Another wicked surge of energy flows from him into me. Pain. Pleasure. Bliss. My jaw unclenches as my lips part. I make a small, breathy sound as we dance. Brennus responds with something close to a growl. "Ye're killing me, mo chroí," he murmurs. His hand moves down my back, infusing me with a golden glow of power. My wings punch violently from me, tearing a hole in my day dress. They spread wide, like a red stain beyond my pale skin. I'm dancing now for the thrill of it. I follow his lead.