Eve Deveaux struggles to control the force within her, the power to move objects with her mind. Fear of the harm she could inflict has caused Eve to turn her back on her family legacy — and the man she loves!
Find your piece!
In sleep, Eve Deveaux thrashed in her bed while the words oozed from a grave.
Find your piece!
The voice was her dead uncle's. But the image erupting into Eve's brain was of a robed, white-haired wizard. His fingers reached skyward; a grimace twisted his face.
The air turned as icy as the fear in Eve's blood. Around her, glass shattered. Wood splintered.
Find your piece!
The wizard swooped in, smelling of a musty crypt. Evil gleamed in his eyes.
Surging up, Eve swallowed a shriek when something crashed into the headboard. Moonlight illuminated the shapes of familiar objects careening around her bedroom.
The drinking glass from the nightstand crashed into the mirror.
Her work boots thunked against a wall.
The hammer from her tool belt shot upward, embedding in the ceiling.
This, she knew, was no dream.
"Stop!" Eve squeezed her eyes shut and with a conscious effort of will pulled back the power the nightmare had unleashed from inside her. The power to move things with her mind, which she'd locked deep inside her fifteen years ago.
The air lost its chill. A predawn hush settled over the small house.
Although she'd fought her way out of the nightmare, the fear had remained with her. She kicked off the sheet while groping for the lamp. Squinting against the light, Eve inventoried the damage.
Her robe twisted around the blades of the ceiling fan.
A roll of blueprints teetered out a broken window, letting in the sound and scent of the churning Pacific.
Her clock had smashed into the headboard.
Eve scrubbed her palms across her face. For years she'd clung to the belief that the steps she'd taken had given her control over her preternatural power. The nightmare told her different.
It also reminded her of the recent pressure from her cousins.
Aurora, Celeste and Skye were full of themselves now that they claimed to have found love by embracing their own unique powers. They had each located a piece of the Stone of Power — the source of the power passed down from their great-grandmother, Solange.
The cousins had each called to remind Eve of the Deveaux family legend: their great-grandparents could join in the afterlife only after four Deveaux women embraced their powers and brought together the individual pieces of the Stone of Power that their great-granny had broken after some wizard dropped a curse on her and Great-Gramps Jonathon. Eve, the cousins all urged, needed to acknowledge her power and find her piece of the rock.
Eve scowled. Uncle Harold had been so obsessed by the Deveaux legend that he'd probably visited her from the great beyond in the guise of a wizard to scare her into joining her cousins. Find your piece, Eve. Embrace your power. Fall in love.
"Forget it."
All the nightmare had done was reinforce her decision to remain alone. If she had a man in her life, right now he would probably be unconscious from a concussion.
It wouldn't be the first time her power had injured.
Age-old guilt washed over Eve…and reminded her she'd be seeing the injured party in the morning.
Locals were buzzing over Travis Bristow's return to Mendocino, California, after five years. Considering he'd made a killing in real estate, speculation was rife over why he'd bought the abandoned house on a ridge overlooking the ocean.
Was it an investment to be refurbished then sold?
Did he plan to settle there?
All Eve knew was Travis had called the contracting company she and her dad owned and scheduled an appointment. Her dad was out of town, so it fell on Eve to take the meeting.
She sighed. Seeing Travis again would be a reminder of the long-ago day when the power inside her broke free. A reminder of what she was.
And why she could never be with him.
Travis Bristow wanted a wife. This time, the right wife. And he knew where to find her. So five years after he'd let Eve Deveaux push him away, he was back, determined to have her.
With sun blazing through the cracked windows, Travis watched Eve measure a bedroom of the house he'd always secretly planned would be theirs. She was everything he remembered — tall and willowy, with a fine-boned face tanned gold. Her hair was a short, dark tumble; her eyes chocolate brown. Snug jeans hugged her hips; her breasts pressed against her white T-shirt.
He'd waited years to have those breasts, and the rest of her, pressed against him.
Watching her step around an abandoned mattress, Travis wondered if any man had scaled the barrier Eve had erected against him. The barrier he was determined to break through.
"Labor's going to cost a bundle," she commented.
"True."
She jotted a note on her clipboard. "Hope you've got deep pockets."
"Very."
"My price is good for thirty days. You have time to get other estimates. Considering the cost, you'll want to give this lots of thought."
"I've already done that." For five years. "I want Deveaux and Daughter to do the job. When can you start?"
"Shopping around might get you a better price."
Travis raised a brow. "Eve, is our past making you nervous about working here? If so, I'll talk to your dad about doing the job."
"I'm not nervous," she snapped, her chin angling like a sword. "And I don't mix personal with business."
Travis smiled at the temper smoldering in her eyes. He still knew which buttons to push. "Just trying to make things easier for you."
Travis's comment flung Eve back fifteen years to the day Travis and bully Freddie Poe engaged in another one of their slugfests. The sight of Travis's blood had shot fear and anger into Eve and unleashed a violent power inside her. Even now, she could hear the limb rip off the tree, see it sail uncontrollably through the air, hear Travis's grunt when it hit his cheek.
Knowing she'd unwittingly hurt Travis had made her deathly afraid of what was inside her. When she'd asked him later about the fight, Travis had raised his bandaged face and said, "Freddie called you 'Witchy Woman.' I was trying to make things easier for you."
Now, Eve took in the man who'd always defended her against the school bully. His body looked as hard as granite and his devil's good looks had intensified. Her throat tightened when her gaze shifted to his right cheek where the thin scar slashed then vanished into his jet-black hairline. That scar — more precisely the cause of it — was the reason Eve had vowed to never again use her power. The reason she would always be alone.
The reason she'd refused to marry Travis.
Which hadn't slowed him down, she reminded herself. He'd married soon after he'd left. And later divorced.
Eve didn't want to think about his marital status. Her gaze dropped to the mattress. Nor face reminders of things she and Travis had never — would never — share. She frowned, thinking she should just back off this job.
Travis studied her. There was something beneath Eve's veneer, some strong emotion she warred against. He wanted to dig in, put a name on that emotion. If he let her pull back, he'd lose the chance. This time, he didn't intend to lose.
"Do you question your ability to do this job?"
"I can do the damn job." Her pride scratched, Eve crammed her clipboard under one arm. "I'll be here day after tomorrow with my crew."
As Eve walked out, thoughts of Travis hung in her brain, while something menacing tapped at her thoughts.
And with it came a vivid premonition of disaster.
Two days later, Eve lugged her toolbox and sketches into Travis Bristow's immense house high atop a craggy ocean cliff. The roof leaked and the porches sagged, but for Eve there was something compelling about the way the place had stood for decades against time, weather and neglect.
Inside, the smell of dust and mold mixed with the scent of the sea. The thud of hammers and whir of drills verified her crew was working upstairs. The sense of well-being Eve usually found in those sounds was marred by aching fatigue. Compliments of three nights of visits from Mr. Wizard.
Hours of nonsleep had afforded her time to ponder the fabled curse a wizard had put on her great-grandparents, Solange and Jonathon Deveaux. According to late Uncle Harold, the Deveaux cousins could break the curse by reuniting the four pieces of the Stone of Power only after acknowledging, respecting and controlling the unique power each cousin had inherited from Solange. They also were meant to find love in the process.
For Eve, there were a few sticking points.
Oh, she acknowledged she was telekinetic. And she certainly respected the strength of her power. Problem was, she couldn't control it. Bolting awake three nights running to find that her subconscious had launched a fleet of UFOs proved that.
As for love… How much more fun would this be if she had to explain to some guy why both her bedroom and her life were in shambles?
Eve dragged a hand through her short, dark hair. She could feel the power she'd locked inside her churning as if some outside energy worked to free it. She desperately feared if that happened, as it had the day she'd permanently scared Travis, she wouldn't be able to pull it back.
The prospect had a shiver skittering like a bony finger down her spine.
Her mind hazy with fatigue, she headed into the living room where spiderwebs draped like gray gauze. She set her toolbox on the battered worktable her crew had set up, then rolled out her sketches.
Behind Eve, Travis paused in an arched doorway to admire the way her snug jeans showed off her long legs. He frowned when he noted the rigid set of her shoulders beneath her red T-shirt. She had a tomboy's tough shell. Beneath, he knew there was something soft and hot. This time he was determined to uncover her depths. Eve was, after all, the reason he'd returned to Mendocino. Eve, and the house whose threshold he intended to some day carry her over.
Strolling into the room across a spattered drop cloth he asked, "Now that you've had time to scope out things, what's your take on my house?"
"It hasn't turned to rubble because whoever built it did so with care," she said, sparing him a glance across her shoulder. "The foundation's as solid as the cliff it's sitting on." She shuffled sketches. "You made a good investment, Bristow. Would have been better if you'd have bid out the work."
Because she still had her back to him, he let his expression turn smug. "When you know what you want, Deveaux, there's no point wasting time."
Gazing around the room, Travis realized he'd come full circle. He had left town because he couldn't see a way to get either the house or the woman he wanted. Making money on the real estate wheel and deal had finally gotten him the oceanside house that had called to him since he was a kid.
He would restore it, along with his relationship with the woman he'd wanted for almost as long.
To Travis's way of thinking, Eve was like the house — she needed someone to love her, accept her character for what it was. Someone who appreciated her strengths and understood her weaknesses.
He didn't understand fully, not yet. But he had a good idea what happened that day when he beat the crap out of Freddie Poe and Eve beaned him with a limb without even touching it. She had dropped a barrier between them like a steel plate and deflected every attempt he'd made to discuss what had happened. After that, things between them had never been the same.
Fine, Travis thought, moving to the side of the worktable opposite Eve. He didn't want things the same. He wanted all of her. And he would get what he wanted, no matter how long it took to break through that barrier.
He glanced at the top sketch. "Have you decided the best way to shore up the widow's walk?"
Eve met his gaze. Clad in a denim shirt and worn jeans, and with stubble darkening his jaw, Travis Bristow in no way resembled an executive who'd made a killing in real estate. Instead, he looked lean and hard and dangerous. Heat rose inside her, bringing with it the ache of longing for the man she could never have. "I've…got some ideas," she said, forcing the words past her suddenly dry throat.
His gaze narrowed on her face. "Have you sworn off sleep?"
When he stepped abruptly around the table and crowded close to her, her throat went even drier. "Is that your way of saying I look like a hag?"
"I'm saying you've got shadows under your eyes and you're as pale as chalk."
"Hey —" She jerked her chin as his hand cupped it, but his fingers held firm.
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"Things on my mind. Let go."
He laid a hand on her arm, stilling her. "You looked tired two days ago when we first met here. Now you're exhausted. What's wrong?"
Eve gritted her teeth. Growing up, she hadn't told him about her power. It would have sliced her in two if he'd turned away when he found out she was different. And because of that power, she'd abandoned hope for a future with this man. How unfair, she thought. How viciously unfair that Travis Bristow still mattered to her. Too much.
"Back off. I've got enough people bothering me."
"Who?"
His fingers felt firm and warm. If she were normal she would have stepped into his arms and explored the need welling inside her.
"Who's bothering you?" he coaxed quietly.
"Why? You going to race to my defense like you did all those times Freddie Poe bullied me?"
Travis gave her a feral smile. "If that's what it takes for you to get some sleep."
She gazed up into his face while his spicy scent hovered around her. The paper-thin scar marring his right cheek was all the reminder she needed of just how not normal she was. A mix of anger and frustration had her balling her fists.
"I don't need you to play white knight, Bristow. Back off."
"No." He lowered his head. The same relentless determination glinted in his dark eyes as she heard in his voice. "You're not pushing me away again, Eve. I'm staying. In Mendocino and your life. Get used to it."
All she had to do was lean in and his mouth would be on hers. The feeling of being trapped by both growing desire and the indefinable force ripping inside her had her system pulsating with temper and frayed nerves.
"Dammit, let go!"
"Not twice in one lifetime."
His refusal shot a red haze across Eve's vision. At the same instant she felt something inside her snap, her toolbox began vibrating with earthquake intensity.
Travis shot a look at the table. "What the hell?"
"Let go!" Eve struggled against his hold and the power clawing inside her. Both, she discovered, had equal strength.
A metallic screech filled her head just as the toolbox's lid flew open.
Her breath strangled in her throat when a screwdriver rocketed toward Travis.
The instant Travis caught the glint of metal rocketing his way, he toppled Eve with him to the floor.
Air whooshed out of his lungs as he landed on his back. She sprawled on top of him. A hard thunk jerked his gaze to the wall above them. The UFO was a screwdriver, now embedded in Sheetrock up to its thick handle. Considering the trajectory, Travis knew if he hadn't hit the deck the thing would now be impaled in his brain.
"Christ."
"Let me up!" On top of him, Eve thrashed against his hold.
Rolling, Travis reversed positions, pinning her beneath him. When she continued to struggle, he clamped her wrists to the floor on either side of her head. "You trying to kill me, Eve?"
"I'm sorry." Fear hissed through her blood as she fought to close off the violent spike of energy. "I'm sorry."
Inside her, the locks she'd secured on her power had splintered open and the pain was huge. Above her, Travis's face was hard as rock, his dark eyes glinting with anger. She wasn't sure which was worse.
"Dammit, what the hell's going on?" His voice was raw, brittle as broken glass.
"I'm tired." The words crimped in her throat. "I'm…not myself."
Upstairs, the sounds of construction bashed against the walls, a sound just violent enough to suit Travis's mood. Setting his jaw, he stared down into her pale-as-ice face and saw raw anguish. Patience, he warned, grinding back his temper. She was scared as hell.
"That's the problem, isn't it?" he asked levelly. "How can you be yourself when you won't face who you are?"
She stared up at him, her lungs heaving, her breasts pressing against his chest. "You don't know what I am."
"Not what, Eve. Who. You're a gorgeous, stubborn woman, made intriguing by multiple layers. It's those layers I haven't quite figured out." The vulnerability in her dark eyes touched his heart. "I'm the one you clobbered with a tree limb without ever having touched it, so I've got a good idea of at least one layer. I've researched this. You're telekinetic. We grew up together, Eve. Why didn't you trust me enough to tell me?"
"I was afraid you'd look at me like a freak. And then that day, when Freddie Poe called me one of his endless names and you jumped him, I lost control. My power hurt you, scarred you…." She shook her head. "I was terrified, knowing what was inside me did that. There was no way I was going to chance hurting you again."
"So you backed off. Put up walls. And years later refused to marry me."
"I didn't want you hurt."
His fingers tightened on her wrists. "I loved you, and you forced me out of your life. You think that didn't hurt?"
A glance at the screwdriver stabbing into the wall had a sob clawing in Eve's throat. "It hurt less than if I'd killed you," she said in a shaky whisper.
"Felt about the same." He gave himself a second to acknowledge how good her long, lean body felt beneath his before levering into a sitting position.
"Tell me about your telekinesis," he said, pulling her up beside him. "Is it why you can't sleep?"
Still trembling, she wrapped her arms around her waist. Considering she'd almost killed him, he had a right to some answers. "There's this nightmare. It's all twisted up with my power."
"I'm listening."
"My cousins and I inherited powers from our great-grandmother. Aurora can control the weather. Celeste is a medium. Skye reads minds. I'm telekinetic." Eve angled her chin. "Do you remember I used to spend every summer in North Carolina with my uncle and cousins?"
"I developed a dislike for summer because you always left. I missed you."
Eve tried to ignore the little twist his words put in her stomach. "Every year Uncle Harold took me aside to tell me about our great-grandmother, Solange. According to him, there's a curse on her and Great-Grandfather Jonathon that keeps them from joining together in the afterlife."
Travis raised a brow. "Who cursed them?"
"A wizard." Eve pictured him: shock-white hair, flowing robes, his face set in an unnatural grimace. "He's the star of my nightmares, but when he talks, it's with my uncle's voice."
Travis listened while she told him about the wizard urging her to find her piece. Then she explained what she knew about the curse he'd placed on her great-grandparents. While she spoke, Eve kept her gaze trained on Travis's. And felt her heart swell when she saw no doubt in his dark eyes, no revulsion. Just deep, depthless acceptance. If only, she thought.
"Let me see if I have this straight," Travis said when she finished. "When you find your piece of the Stone of Power, you put it with the pieces your cousins already have? And that breaks the curse?"
"In theory." Eve scooped back her hair. "But it won't happen. Can't happen."
"Why?"
"I have no clue where to start looking for the last piece of the Stone. And I have to be able to control my power. You just got a demo of how little control I have." She didn't mention that finding love was a part of the formula. She'd opened herself up to Travis because she owed him an explanation. To open her life to him would put him in more danger, something she would never do.
"So, your answer to the problem is doing nothing? To just continue having nightmares until you drop from exhaustion?"
"No, there is something I can do." Her gaze swept the room. The walls were patched, the baseboards gnawed by mice and the ceiling sagged. Yet, she pictured rich paint and polished wood, and knew how glorious the house would be refurbished. "I quit, Travis. You'll have to hire another contractor to do this job," she said, and instantly felt the ache that came with the words. "I have to stay away from you. Far away."
"You're not quitting, this house or me." Keeping his eyes on hers, Travis stroked a hand over her hair, let his fingers drift into it. The image of her walking away scraped him raw. "I came back to Mendocino for you and this house. I'm not letting go of either."
"I don't want to hurt you. Ever again."
"Then don't pull away. From this job or me." Over the past five years, he'd learned to wheel and deal to get what he wanted. He saw no reason the situation that now faced him shouldn't be handled the same. "If what I read about telekinesis is accurate, a person has to channel their total concentration on an object in order to move it."
Her mouth thinned. "You think I channeled my concentration on that screwdriver?"
"No. I think you're so exhausted you can't concentrate on anything. The first thing we need to do is figure out how to stop the nightmare so you can get some sleep. How about calling your cousins?" He gestured at the cell phone hooked to her waistband. "Would they know?"
Eve shook her head. "I called them all. No clue."
"Did your uncle put the family history in writing?"
"No, he…" Narrowing her eyes, Eve forced her fatigued brain to work. "Uncle Harold sent me a crate a few years ago. In the letter with it he said he was entrusting the Deveaux magic to me because I have the strongest power."
"What was in the crate?"
"I don't know. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with more family magic. I hauled the crate into the attic and never opened it."
Travis traced his fingertip along her bottom lip. "How about we go do that now?"
Travis stopped his Porsche in front of the two-story white Victorian with hunter green shutters. "Didn't the widow Throckmorton live here?" he asked, surveying the structure snugged into a copse of pines that provided shade against the late morning sun.
"Yes," Eve said, unbuckling her seat belt. "She died a few years ago. I'm renting from her son. Still trying to decide if the place suits me enough to buy it."
Travis didn't comment as they took the steps up to the porch. He already considered the battered house he'd hired her to refurbish as theirs. But figuring out how to get Eve Deveaux to call the place home was not his priority. Not while she was still chalk-pale from what happened there a half hour ago.
Replaying the event had him frowning. He had seen more than devastation in her eyes after she lost control over her power of telekinesis and rocketed the screwdriver at his head. He'd spied hard resolve to distance herself from him. She'd gotten away with that five years ago when she'd refused to marry him, and his wounded pride and frustrated fury had propelled him out of town.
When he'd gotten over being mad, he'd hurt like hell. Never again. He now understood she'd turned her back on him to protect him. If his standing at her side put him in danger of getting his head bashed in by flying objects, too bad. That was where he intended to spend the rest of his life.
"We need a crowbar and hammer to open Uncle Harold's crate," Eve said as she unlocked the front door to reveal a hallway scattered with colorful rugs.
Upstairs, she retrieved the tools from a closet. Her face tight with strain, she offered Travis the hammer and crowbar. "You should carry these to the attic. To make sure I don't send them flying at your head."
"I'll carry them but not because I'm in fear for my life." Giving her a grin that was all innocence, he slid the tools from her hands. "A delicate flower like you shouldn't have to lug around heavy equipment when there's a big, strong man around."
The comment earned him an eye-roll before she opened a nearby door. Travis followed her up a flight of creaky wooden stairs.
The attic was empty but for a scarred table and the wooden crate shoved against the wall that boasted the room's lone window. Dust motes hung in the still, quiet air.
Holding up the hammer and crowbar, Travis moved toward the crate. "I'll do the honors."
"Fine." Eve wasn't sure how she felt about opening the crate. Like her power, she had tried to ignore its existence, leaving it sealed to keep whatever was inside contained. Now, despite her precautions, she felt her own power seeping back. And feared it.
Should she also fear the crate's contents?
Her throat went dry when Travis laid the lid aside. "Ready to take a look?"
Taking a steadying breath, Eve scooped up curled wood shavings. She instantly unearthed a thin bundle of yellowed paper, tied with a blood-red ribbon. Tucked beneath the ribbon was a card with the words Solange Deveaux's tools of magic scrawled in her uncle's handwriting.
Beside Eve, Travis plunged his hands into the wood shavings. "I thought everyone used foam peanuts these days."
"Uncle Harold was old-fashioned."
Minutes later, the crate was empty and the objects they'd unearthed sat on the table.
Travis picked up the double-edged dagger, tested its point with a fingertip. "Razor sharp." He placed it between the chalice and cauldron, then slid Eve a look. "Was your great-granny a witch?"
Eve took in the censer and the shells that had spilled from a drawstring pouch. "I'm not sure," she answered, running a fingertip across the top of a black-faced mirror.
Travis dipped his head toward the folded pages. "Maybe something in there will tell us how to stop your nightmare," he said quietly.
Eve untied the slash of red ribbon and unfolded the pages. Her heart clenched when she read Deveaux Family Legend. "Whenever Uncle Harold talked about the curse, he always mentioned Great-Grandfather Jonathon's journal, but this is the first time I've seen it." Eve angled toward Travis so he could read over her shoulder.
"Your uncle had already clued you in to everything about the wizard's curse, right?" Travis asked after reading the final page.
"Except he never mentioned the wizard's name. Darien." Instantly, Eve felt a premonition, like footsteps of the devil creeping across her flesh. Her shoulders stiffened against an involuntary shudder.
"Something wrong?"
"No." She looked back at the journal. "I also didn't know Jonathon had sketched a likeness of the Stone of Power. My cousins won't like hearing that I've never seen a piece of stone that resembles the drawing."
"Hardly your fault."
"True." Eve laid the pages beside Solange's tools of magic. "It is my fault that I choose not to use my power, even if I find my piece of the Stone." She met Travis's gaze. "How can I try to help break the curse when I can't control what's inside me? When it hurts people I care about? When it harms you?"
"Eve." Travis cupped her face in his hands, felt the creamy softness of her flesh. "Having power — any kind — is a tricky business. If it weren't, it wouldn't mean anything. You're afraid —"
"You should be, too." Her gaze flicked to his right cheek, and he could almost feel it track across the scar. "What's inside me scarred you. Today, it almost killed you. Why aren't you running in the opposite direction?"
He dipped his head. "You think I mind wearing the mark of the woman I've wanted most of my life?" he asked softly, his lips an inch from hers. "Once you understand what's inside of you, you won't be afraid of it."
"Don't you think I've tried to understand?" Beneath his palms, he felt her stiffen. "I've gotten nowhere."
"So, we figure out what's going on together." He burrowed his fingers into her short, silky hair. "While we're at it, there's something else we can work on."
Eve couldn't stop her breath from quickening when his mouth settled on hers. Couldn't prevent her heart from doing a long, unsteady cartwheel. Was helpless to halt the tiny explosions inside her when his dark, rabidly male taste streaked straight to her center like an arrow on target.
For a mindless moment the years fell away. Travis Bristow had always done incredible things to her mouth. Still did.
And with that familiar, primal thrill came the reminder that she'd forced him out of her life to protect him. She thought about her great-grandparents, cursed to spend eternity apart, and regret knotted her stomach. Still, they were long dead. The man presently kissing her as if she were the only woman on earth was very much alive. She wouldn't risk hurting him again. She had locked her power inside her for good reason. Had spent over a decade controlling it. Had no desire to understand it. All she wanted was to keep it locked away. Deny its existence.
Even as those thoughts formed in her head, the musty air began to churn. An icy vapor rippled against Eve's spine, warring with the heat in her blood. "Lord…"
"Eve?"
She backed from Travis's touch. "Don't you feel it?"
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
Before she could answer the cold slapped her like a fist, staggering her backward against the wall like a drunk on a binge. She yelped when the wall began to vibrate. Then the floor. Next, the entire house.
Terror washed over Eve when something began clawing its way inside her brain.
Panic cutting through her, Eve pressed back against the attic's vibrating wall. Like steam from a hot tub on a cold night, gray clouds oozed from the wooden floor. Fog billowed, taking on the form of a man wearing long robes. A wizard.
Darien.
"Eve, find your piece!"
The familiar voice had Eve's panic receding. "Uncle Harold?" This was a replay of her nightmare, she realized. Except that she was wide-awake.
Transfixed, she stared at the vision hovering before her. Dressed in full wizard regalia, he had long, shock-white hair. His skin looked hard, almost stonelike. His gnarled hands extended toward the sky as if reaching for something just beyond his grasp. His mouth was set in an unnatural grimace, eternally frozen in a moment of agony. His lips remained unmoving, even when he spoke.
"Find your piece!"
"Eve!"
Travis's shout jerked her gaze from the wizard. She saw now she was surrounded by the swirling, frigid fog. And that Travis stood on the other side of the churning eddy, ramming a shoulder against it as if it were as solid as brick and mortar.
"Find your piece, Eve."
She looked at the wizard. Since she was awake, she was going to find out what the hell her dead uncle was up to.
"Why the nightmares, Uncle Harold?"
"For years you've cowered behind fear of what's inside you. Denied who and what you are. I prayed you would get past that, but you haven't. I've come to remind you of your legacy."
"Like I need a reminder," Eve shot back. "What's with the disguise?"
"To show you the enemy your great-grandmother battled. When the end came, she didn't cower. Didn't deny her magic. She stood up to Darien. Doing so, Solange sacrificed eternity with her beloved Jonathon. She did that for her child and all her progeny. She did that for you, Eve."
Eve fisted her hands against an instant flash of guilt. Her uncle had always known what buttons to push to get her squirming about not taking her inherited power as seriously as he thought she should.
"I know what Great-Grandmother Solange did, Uncle Harold. You told me often enough."
"Then you know why you must find your piece of the Stone. Acknowledge your power. Use your gift. Release Solange and Jonathon from Darien's curse. You read Jonathon's journal. What more proof do you need of his great love for Solange, and hers for him? They've waited so long to be together."
As her uncle spoke, tendrils of fog swirled out of the wizard's robes.
"Your cousins have their piece of the Stone of Power. They wait for you to find yours. Solange and Jonathon wait for you. You must fulfill your legacy."
The fog around Eve thickened, trapping her against the attic's vibrating wall in a tight, gray embrace. "I can't fulfill it."
"Won't!" The word blasted out, turning the ice-cold air razor-sharp against Eve's flesh. "You're just like Solange," her uncle taunted. "At first, she turned her back on her calling. Denied what she was. When she saw her mistake, it was too late to remedy all the damage. Because of that, she walks alone. Do you wish that same fate for yourself?"
"Eve!" Travis shouted. "Dammit, what's going on? How the hell do I get through this?"
Unable to move, she stared through the swirling fog. Despite the mist, she saw hardened fury in Travis's eyes as he stabbed the blade of Solange's dagger at the dense eddy.
"See how he fights to get to you? He wants you, Eve. He loves you. You only have to find your piece of the Stone. Embrace your power. Break the curse. Love," her uncle's voice crooned. "You'll have it with the man you've wanted since you were very young. Use your gift and you'll spend eternity together."
"It's not a gift," Eve shot back, her heart thudding in her throat. "It's my own personal curse." She blinked away tears. "What's inside me hurts the people I love."
She looked at Travis, still swiping the dagger's blade against the impenetrable fog. And, yes, she loved him. Still. Always.
"I'll spend my life alone to keep him safe. I'll spend eternity alone!"
Her words lit the wizard's eyes like fire. A roar sounded, the fog swirled with thundering intensity.
The sudden chime of Eve's cell phone was like a flash of lightning through the storm. A ghostly white mist boiled up from the floor. The fog bank closed, swallowing the wizard in a vaporous whirl.
The house stopped shaking.
The air turned warm.
"Eve!" Tossing the dagger aside, Travis dragged her into his arms. There'd been nothing inside him but bright terror from the moment the fog engulfed her. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." She burrowed into his arms while a low, flat chime sounded on the air. "Yes."
With unsteady hands, he eased her face back so that he could see for himself. She was pale, her eyes wide. "What happened?"
"Didn't you see the wizard? Couldn't you hear him?"
"All I saw was you, surrounded by a fog bank. Fog that was as strong as steel." He pulled her closer, the helplessness he'd felt slicing through him. "I couldn't get to you."
Suddenly aware that the relentless chime came from Eve's cell phone, Travis jerked it off her belt, checked the display. "C. Deveaux."
"Celeste," Eve said, reaching for the phone. "My cousin who talks to dead people."
"Sounds like she no longer has a corner on that market," Travis said before pressing a kiss to Eve's forehead.
* * *
"She's sure about that?" Travis asked fifteen minutes later as he and Eve carried the tools of magic downstairs to her small, tidy living room.
"Positive." Eve settled her great-grandmother's cauldron, chalice and pouch of shells on her coffee table. "According to Celeste, Great-Grandfather Jonathon was very specific when he communed with her. He told her my piece of the Stone of Power is somewhere in Mendocino. In the possession of my tormentor."
"Tormentor." Travis sat the black-faced mirror and censer on the table. "Did Jonathon name your tormentor?"
"No."
"Think it's the wizard?"
"Actually, it's Uncle Harold tormenting me in the guise of the wizard." Frowning, Eve sank into the corner of her overstuffed couch. "Like I told Celeste, Great-Gramps is wrong. If my tormentor had my piece of the Stone he wouldn't be haranguing me to find it."
"Makes sense." Travis laid the double-edged dagger beside the mirror then settled beside her. "I don't suppose Jonathon had any pointers on how to exorcise your dead uncle so you can get some sleep?"
"That didn't come up." Eve closed her eyes, opened them. "Celeste sounded ecstatic over the prospect that I might stumble over my piece of the Stone soon. The other cousins will feel the same."
Travis gave her a considering look. "And you're far from elated. Because even if you find the stone, the curse can't be broken unless you embrace your power."
"Which I won't do." Knowing now that her refusal doomed not only her great-grandparents to spend eternity apart, but also herself and Travis, had tears burning in her eyes, her throat. "Can't do."
"Worry about that if and when the time comes." Travis slid an arm around her shoulders. "Did Celeste impart any other words of wisdom from your great-gramps?"
Taking comfort in Travis's touch, Eve curled closer against him. "He said I should expect to hear from my cousin Aurora. Rory."
"What's her specialty again?"
"She controls the weather."
In the next heartbeat, a crash of thunder splintered the air.
The rain that began shyly spewed into a tempest. Now, twenty-four hours later, the storm held Mendocino in its snapping teeth, snarling traffic and causing intermittent blackouts.
Inside Travis Bristow's cliff-hugging house, Eve knelt on the kitchen floor, attacking layers of linoleum with a chisel while shooting furtive glances at the ceiling. When the rain began, her crew scrambled to secure a tarp over the high, pitched roof. But with the windows rattling harder against each blast of wind and rain, she expected the tarp to rip away and torrents of water to pour down on her head.
The freak storm had caught every meteorologist on the West coast by surprise.
Cousin Aurora's doing, Eve thought.
Restless and edgy, she wielded the chisel harder against the stubborn linoleum. She had no idea what the link was between the storm and her great-grandfather's pronouncement that her piece of the Stone of Power was somewhere in Mendocino. In her tormentor's possession.
Knowing she might soon find the stone lodged a fist of dread in Eve's stomach. When that day came, she would break faith with her cousins by refusing to use her power. A refusal that would prevent her great-grandparents from reuniting in the hereafter.
By those acts, Eve knew she would also condemn herself to spend eternity alone.
So be it, Eve thought, ignoring the hitch in her heart. She would do whatever it took to prevent her power from again harming the man she loved.
* * *
Travis paused in the doorway, shoving his fingers through his rain-damp hair while he watched Eve work. Dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, she wielded the chisel as if the devil himself looked over her shoulder.
Maybe he did, Travis thought.
He knew instinctively she hadn't told him everything that had happened yesterday while she was enshrouded in the fog with the wizard. The encounter had turned her eyes even more guarded and instilled a controlled urgency in the way she moved.
He would find out. If he couldn't scale the barrier she'd erected around herself, he would rip it apart with his bare hands. He would uncover her secrets. And they would deal with them. Together.
The roar of the wind outside nearly masked the chime of Eve's cell phone. While she answered, Travis moved into the kitchen, setting a bag of takeout burgers and fries on the counter.
Eve ended the call a few moments later. "I'll be damned."
Travis raised a brow. "Another one of your cousins calling?"
"No." Rising, she tossed her chisel into a toolbox and stripped off her work gloves. "Freddie Poe."
"Good old Freddie." Travis conjured up an image of the hulking bully who'd considered Eve fair game in the harassment department until Travis stepped into her life. Since Freddie hadn't been bright enough to keep his mouth shut, the bully had given Travis numerous opportunities to pound him.
Stroking a fingertip across the scar on his right cheek, Travis felt a thought shift in his brain, but it wouldn't gel. "Did Freddie call just to say hello?"
"Nope. He owns the Raven, a dive bar out on the highway. Rain's leaking on a couple of his pool tables and he wants a tarp on the roof, ASAP." Eve glanced at the takeout bag. "You'll be eating dinner alone."
"Can't your crew deal with the tarp?"
"Normally." Eve slipped on her rain parka. "Freddie's still as mean as a snake so I want to be there to run interference in case he decides to get more obnoxious than usual."
Eve had barely gotten the words out when the elusive thought clicked in Travis's brain. "I'm going with you."
Her mouth twitched. "Think you still need to defend me against the big, bad school bully?"
"I'll always be available for that." Travis skimmed a finger down her cheek. "Eve, remember how Freddie used to torment you?"
"Yeah, I…" Her eyes widened. "You think Freddie's the tormentor my great-grandfather was talking about? That Freddie Poe has my piece of the Stone of Power?"
"Think about it. Celeste communes with your great-granddad who mentions your tormenter has your piece of the rock. Then Aurora delivers rain of biblical proportions. Now, Freddie 'the tormentor' Poe's roof is leaking."
Eve eased out a breath. "Guess we need to show Freddie my great-grandfather Jonathon's sketch of the Stone of Power."
* * *
Travis pulled his Porsche into the Raven's graveled parking lot. While rain sheeted down he studied the small building with blacked-out windows. A red beer sign provided the only exterior lighting. "A pit bull would think twice before going into this place."
"Freddie is a pit bull." Eve jerked up the hood of her parka, then stepped out into the rainy evening gloom. She motioned to the members of her crew who'd hauled the roof tarp in a pickup.
Inside the Raven, beer flowed and the jukebox blared country music. As he and Eve edged through a crush of customers, Travis noted the booths and tables were fashioned out of plywood. Classy.
Freddie Poe stood behind the bar, looking just as Travis remembered him: short and stocky with pasty skin and lank brown hair. The vivid red Hawaiian shirt he wore unbuttoned to the waist was the only discernable change from their school days. Classy.
Freddie's lips curled into more sneer than smile when he spotted Travis. "Heard you were back in town, Bristow," he said, revealing a crowding of smoke-stained teeth.
"That's right." In case Freddie still entertained the notion he could pick on Eve, Travis placed a protective hand on her shoulder. "Back for good."
Freddie's dark gaze slid to Eve. "You gonna fix my roof?"
"My crew's spreading the tarp now." Eve unzipped her parka. "Travis and I thought we'd wait here until they finish the job."
"Bar stools are for paying customers."
"You haven't changed, Freddie." Travis had to hold back from dragging the moron outside and hammering on him, just for old times' sake. Instead, he tossed a twenty on the bar. "That's for two beers. What's left is yours for looking at a drawing."
Freddie pulled two long-necks out of a cooler, twisted off lids and placed them on the bar. "A drawing of what?"
Travis reached into the pocket of his windbreaker. "I hired Eve to refurbish a house. I want a fireplace built of ornamental stones that look something like this."
Freddie's gaze dropped to the paper Travis laid on the bar. "Are those some kind of mystical symbols carved into that rock?"
"Could be," Travis said. "Any idea where I can find some around here?"
Something flickered in Freddie's eyes. "I don't know nothing about rocks."
Eve craned her head toward the door. "My foreman just signaled that they've got the tarp over the roof." She met Travis's gaze. "Ready to go?"
"Ready." Travis looked back at Freddie. "If you see any stones like that, call me. Price is no object."
Minutes later, Eve slid into the Porsche's passenger seat. "In school, Freddie never could get by with telling lies. His eyes always gave him away."
"They still do."
She stared out into the rainy night. "Think he has the fourth piece of the Stone of Power?"
"I'd bet on it." Travis's fingers slid around hers, warm and sure. "Eve." He lifted her hand, pressed his mouth against her palm. "We'll find your stone. And then we'll deal with whatever comes next. Together."
Arousal flooded into her. Then just as quickly transformed into an ache in her heart.
How could it not when her future lay so clearly before her, barren and alone?
After leaving the Raven, Travis and Eve picked up another order of burgers and fries. By the time Travis steered the Porsche into Eve's driveway, the rain had stopped. On their way to the front door, Travis glanced up. Silver images of moon and stars were visible through the rapidly thinning clouds.
Inside, he lit logs in the fireplace while Eve brought plates, glasses and a bottle of wine into the living room.
While they ate on the couch, flames danced over thick logs. The fire cast a golden glow on Solange Deveaux's tools of magic, still on the coffee table where they'd placed them the previous day.
Sipping his wine, Travis leaned back on the couch and gave Eve a considering look. "I've seen you swing a hammer, use a drill, cinch pipes."
She settled into the cushions. "That's what I do for a living."
"Think you'd be just as good using tools of magic?"
She paused, her wineglass partway to her mouth. "I don't do magic."
"What do you call telekinesis?"
"A blight."
And that, he thought, was the problem. Until Eve accepted who she was and what she was meant to do, she would never be open to him. To them.
He gestured his glass at the black-faced mirror. "What is that thing again? And what does it do?"
"It's a scrying mirror. Sort of a crystal ball."
"Can you use it to find out if we're right about Freddie Poe having your piece of the Stone of Power?"
"No." She set her glass on the table with a snap and rose. "And even if I could, I wouldn't. I'm in no hurry to find the stone."
Travis rose, faced her. "Because when you do, you'll have to use your power."
"I won't use it." Standing before the fire, the flames leapt gold behind her. "I'll give my stone to the cousins. But that's as far as I'll go in helping break the curse Darien placed on my great-grandparents."
"You can live the rest of your life knowing they're forever apart when they maybe don't have to be? Caught between heaven and earth?"
"I'll have to." Her eyes darkened, then went flat and cool as she raised her chin. "The same way I'll have to live my life without you."
Travis snagged her arm. "Stop right there."
She lifted a hand to shove him away. He simply closed his fingers over her wrist. "You're not pushing me away this time, Eve. I won't back off. I won't go away. And I won't stop loving you."
Her heart was bleeding, she could feel it. "Travis —"
He leaned in, ruthless determination glinting in his eyes. "I'm not giving up on us."
"There isn't an us."
"There will be."
And, oh, how she wanted that, she thought as his touch, his nearness, the musky scent of him had the breath backing up in her lungs.
"I can't control what's inside me, you know that." With piercing regret, she reached up, brushed a finger across his scarred cheek. "My power hurt you. The other day it almost killed you. I can't have a life with you."
"I won't have one without you." His fingers tightened on her arm. "You think I'm perfect, Eve? You're going to have to take me as I am, too."
"You haven't tried to kill me."
"Not yet," he grated.
Frustration had her hands balling into fists. "You think I want to turn away from you again? You think it didn't hurt me to do that?" Swamped with emotion, she stared into the flames. The stirring of her blood, woman for man, had her pulse throbbing. "All my life I've just wanted to be normal."
"That's one thing you'll never be." Travis wrapped one arm around her waist and jerked her against him. "Miracles aren't normal, Eve. You're my miracle. There's no magic in my life without you."
Her lips parted. "How is a woman supposed to resist a man who says things like that?"
"When a man says things like that, resistance is the last thing he's got on his mind."
Her heart thundered as she gazed up into his face while love swamped her. She had loved him for so long. Held him at arm's length because she knew they had no future. Still, they had tonight. This one moment in time.
"You're a handsome man with sexy words, Travis Bristow."
"And you're a gorgeous, sexy woman, Eve Deveaux." He pulled her shirt from the waistband of her jeans. Seconds later, they tugged each other down onto the rug in front of the blazing fire.
"In my heart, there's been no one ever but you," Travis murmured.
The feel of his hands on her flesh, stroking, soothing even as they aroused, was a gift. Eve sank into that, into the wanting of that as much as the wanting of him.
She felt the wonder of his touch in every nerve, every pulse. She needed to give, as well as take.
Her hands slicked beneath his sweater, shoved it over his head. She could count his heartbeats, quickening, gaining strength as her lips ravaged his chest.
The wild, ruthless kisses that Travis raced down her throat only made her crave more. On a moan, she fisted her hands in his hair and wrapped around him as he rolled her onto her back.
Around them, time stretched, turned pliant.
And while lovers mated, flames leapt in the hearth, sending out heated fingers to caress life back into the implements of magic.
* * *
Sparks of light roused Travis from sleep. At first he thought they came from the fireplace. But one glance told him the flames had died to embers.
Keeping his arms wrapped tight around Eve, he lifted his head off the rug. His gaze tracked the light to the coffee table.
Eve raised her head off his shoulder, looked around dazedly. "I fell asleep," she murmured.
"Me, too. Eve, look at your great-grandmother's mirror."
She turned her head, then jolted to her knees. "It's…on!"
"On?" Travis sat up. Inside the mirror's black face he saw a shadowy image that looked like a figure moving in hazy moonlight.
"I don't understand." Eve snatched up her shirt, slid it on. "This isn't how the mirror is supposed to work."
"These things come with directions?" Travis asked, glancing back at the mirror. The shadow had become distinct enough he could make out a man's form.
"The ways of scrying are passed down through generations." Eve stared at the mirror. "To scry, one must create a space and consecrate it."
"How?"
"By performing a banishing ritual. Or casting a circle. Doing so creates a sense of protection. Then the scryer must achieve a state of relaxed awareness."
"Relaxed awareness," Travis repeated, a smile curving his lips. "Sweetheart, I think we performed our own little ritual right here on the rug."
Eve blinked at him. "Are you suggesting we're seeing an image in my great-grandmother's scrying mirror because we had sex?"
"Made love," he corrected. "Consider what Solange did in the name of love. Maybe she's just helping us out here." He raised a shoulder. "You have a better explanation, toss it out and we'll vote on it."
"I…" Eve stabbed a finger at the mirror. "Travis, look!"
"I'll be damned." The mirror's surface now showed a wash of color. Despite the hazy moonlight, there was no missing the vivid red of the Hawaiian shirt. "Freddie Poe."
"What's he doing?" Scrunching her nose, Eve edged closer to the mirror. "It looks like he's walking through a field of…"
"Tombstones. He's at the cemetery." Travis snatched his sweater off the rug, jerking it on. "Let's go find out what Poe's up to."
Gripping Travis's hand, Eve gave thanks he'd grabbed the small flashlight out of the Porsche's glove box before they scaled the cemetery's locked gate. Overhead, the moon ghosted through the clouds, casting long shadows on the gravestones that thrust up and out of the rain-soaked earth.
Travis's hand tightened on Eve's when a sharp pounding pierced the silence. "Over there."
She followed his gaze. Freddie Poe stood illuminated in a flashlight's beam. His red Hawaiian shirt provided a vivid slash of color against the tall grave marker he pounded with a hammer.
Eve noted that the marker, and a handful of others, were circled by a low wrought-iron fence that swept up into an arched entrance. Atop the arch, POE was fashioned out of the same iron.
"Hel-lo, Freddie," Travis said as he and Eve walked beneath the arch.
The man sprung back as if he'd touch a live wire.
The first thing Travis noted was the piece of the Stone of Power inlaid in the center of the granite monument. The second was the name inscribed in the granite. "So, Freddie, after you closed the Raven did you just decide it's a nice night to hammer the hell out of Grandmother Poe's gravestone?"
Freddie shoved his lank brown hair away from his face. "You're trespassing on my family's private plot."
Eve stepped closer to the towering monument, her hand going to her throat. "My stone." She looked at Freddie. "Where did you get it?"
"It's rightfully ours, so don't get your panties in a wad. Some old guy gave the stone to the sexton who tended the grave of a Poe ancestor buried in Baltimore. You know, that famous writer guy?"
Eve gaped. "Edgar Allen Poe?"
"Yeah, him. The sexton later gave the stone to a Poe cousin who visited the grave. The stone got passed down through the family." Freddie shrugged. "Granny set a lot of store by that rock. Wanted it in her headstone."
Eve shot him a burning look. "And now you're hammering it out?"
Freddie rolled his eyes. "Like Granny knows the difference." He looked at Travis. "You said you'd pay for the rock."
"I will, if that's what Eve wants." Travis met her gaze. Already he could see her struggling with what to do. A band tightened his chest. He wished he knew a way to smooth the path that lay before them.
Eve stepped closer to the monument. Instantly, something crept through her senses. Her hands went unsteady. Her heart raced. Sweat slicked her flesh.
And evil dropped over her like a black, smothering shroud.
"Leave it." Sheer, black panic almost overwhelmed her. "Leave the stone where it is."
Freddie cursed. "You gonna pay for the damage to my granny's headstone?"
"Shut up!" Travis snapped. He met Eve's gaze. "What do you feel?"
"Evil." Air heaved in and out of her lungs in ragged breaths. She swung around, saw nothing but dark shadow and silver moonlight. "Like something's waiting in the dark." She backed away from the gravestone. "It wants me to take the stone. I won't."
A roar rose from the ground. The air swirled; lightning bolted from the sky. The towering metal arch exploded into fiery sparks. Then crashed down on Travis.
"No!" Eve lunged, dropping beside him. He lay on his side, still as death, the arch covering his head and chest.
"Travis!" She shoved at the metal, found it too heavy to budge. "Freddie, help me."
"I'm outta here!" he yelled as he leapt the fence.
"Travis!" In wild panic she shoved at the metal. "Travis!"
Frantically, Eve swept the beam of Freddie's flashlight across the ground, searching for the tools he'd used. She found nothing.
She was alone, she realized. Save for her panic, her fear.
Her power.
"Okay. I can do this." She dragged in a breath. While she had lain with Travis she'd surrendered to shuddering need and embraced love. Now, to save him, she would embrace her magic.
She stared fiercely at the arch; felt her mind flex.
The metal lifted minutely, hovered, then lowered back on Travis.
"No!"
The Stone, Eve thought as the Deveaux legend swirled through her head. To fully embrace her power, she must possess her piece of the Stone of Power.
She dashed to the tall gravestone, ignoring the sense of evil that gripped her. Eve focused her gaze on the piece of stone embedded there, its mystical symbols shadows in the flashlight's beam.
The flow of Eve's thoughts shuddered, then bubbled from a wellspring deep inside her.
The stone shifted. The granite monument in which it was embedded suddenly split with a jagged crack. Keeping her concentration on the stone, Eve felt her mind flex.
The stone slid from between the granite pieces.
Eve grabbed it out of the air. She dashed back to where Travis lay, unmoving. Gripping the stone to her heart, she embraced it along with the gift her great-grandmother had passed to her.
A surge of energy rushed inside her, filling her. She shed all shields. Tore open all locks.
And felt her mind bend as the power inside her burst free.
The metal arch rose, trembled on the air. And then rose higher.
Eve felt blood pounding in her temples. Her body burned with energy that seemed to be coming from nowhere and seemed to be going nowhere. Mentally, she shifted the heavy metal away from Travis. Seconds later she lowered it to the ground.
"Travis!" She dropped beside him, weak and panting, physically spent from the effort.
"Eve?" He pushed himself up into a sitting position, vaguely disoriented. He had a headache that was off the scale and his shoulder ached like a fresh wound. When his eyes focused, he saw Eve kneeling beside him, gripping her quarter of the Stone of Power to her heart.
"What happened?"
"You're alive!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, nearly toppling him back over.
"Yeah." He frowned. "I remember a lightning bolt, then nothing after that."
* * *
Later, they lay curled together on Eve's couch, watching flames dance in the fireplace. Eve had placed her piece of the Stone of Power on the coffee table amid her great-grandmother's tools of magic.
Travis slid a fingertip along Eve's bare hip. "Did I thank you for lifting that arch off of me?"
"A couple of times." Having accepted her great-grandmother's legacy, Eve felt serenity stir inside her. For the first time in her life she no longer feared her power. She was at utter peace with herself. And the life that lay ahead of her.
Smiling, she laid a hand on Travis's heart. "I have something to thank you for, too."
"That would be?"
"You came back to Mendocino for me." She pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek. "I love you, Travis. I'm so very glad you came back."
"I had to. When I fell in love with you all those years ago, it was forever." He stroked her thigh. "We're not the only ones getting a second chance to be together."
"Solange and Jonathon," Eve murmured, her gaze moving to the table where the stone lay. She had already called her cousins. They would meet soon to reunite the four pieces of the Stone of Power.
Darien's curse would then be broken.
Her great-grandparents would reunite for eternity.
For the Deveaux family, the world would be right.
* * *
Hundreds of miles away, all was gray and black in the cemetery where crypts stained with lichen crouched on boggy soil. A sliver of moon wedged between high clouds touched the stone statue of a dark wizard. Around him, the air of expectation thickened like the mist that hovered between the thick trunks of cypress and weeping willows.
And inside the statue, the spark of life burned brighter.
The End