Weathering Rock

by Mae Clair

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

Drawn together across centuries, will their love be strong enough to defeat an ancient curse? Colonel Caleb DeCardian was fighting America’s Civil War on the side of the Union when a freak shower of ball lightning transported him to the present, along with rival and former friend, Seth Reilly. Adapting to the 21st century is hard enough for the colonel, but he also has to find Seth, who cursed him to life as a werewolf. The last thing on Caleb’s mind is romance. Then fetching Arianna Hart nearly runs him down with her car. He can’t deny his attraction to the outspoken schoolteacher, but knows he should forget her. Arianna finds Caleb bewildering, yet intriguing: courtly manners, smoldering sensuality and eyes that glow silver at night? When she sees Civil War photographs featuring a Union officer who looks exactly like Caleb, she begins to understand the man she is falling in love with harbors multiple secrets--some of which threaten the possibility of their happiness. Finding a decent guy who'll commit is hard enough. How can she expect Caleb to forsake his own century to be with her? 90,007 Words

Release date: October 1, 2012

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 309

Sample

 

Chapter 1

 

The June moon rode a ragged ridge of bone-white clouds, filmy and pale as the translucent skin of an onion. Honeysuckle mingled with the aroma of sweet clover and drifted through the open window of Arianna Hart’s Chrysler Sebring. It was a pleasant night, touched by fog and ripe with all the scents and sounds that heralded summer’s arrival. In the distance, the rooftops of Weathering Rock jutted above the trees, silvered with the ice-white blood of the moon.

The old manor home predated the Civil War and had been a landmark for the town of Sagehill as far back as she could remember. Ball lightning and freak storms were said to roll through the surrounding fields like a tempest of Earth and sky, giving rise to superstition and legend. Even now, tendrils of fog twined among the trees. Arianna didn’t care about the weather anomalies or myths. It was the past that fascinated her, a passion she’d carried into her career as a teacher of American history at the local middle school. Engrossed in her thoughts, absently humming along to Lady Gaga on the radio, she was unprepared when a man on horseback plunged from the trees.

“Shit!” With a shriek of horror, she slammed on the brakes sending the Sebring fishtailing across the road. The horse reared upright, trapping the rider in the beam of her headlights, his hair a blaze of bright silver. She watched in horror as he lost his battle to stay mounted and tumbled backward to the ground. The horse wasted no time in thundering off between the trees, and was swallowed by ribbons of fog.

“Oh, God!” Arianna popped the door, fumbling off her seatbelt and stumbling in her haste to reach the prone man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” She was babbling, her heart in her throat, nerves in the stratosphere. “Are you all right?”

Of course he wasn’t all right! He wasn’t even moving. He looked to be in his early thirties, dressed in jeans, a dark t-shirt and an archaic-looking frock coat. The garment was straight out of a history book.

“Sir?” Arianna knelt on the roadside. Now that she saw him up close, she realized his hair was blond, not silver, cut longer than fashionable. He had a lean but muscular physique and–she couldn’t help noticing–was handsome as sin. If she was going to mow someone down, why not go for the gold? “Um–” She prodded his shoulder, jumping when he responded with a groan. Arianna sank back on her haunches. “Thank God!”

The man stirred and rolled his head on the asphalt, dragging one leg upright. He made an abortive attempt to wedge it beneath him, and raised a hand to his head. “What happened? I need to reach Meade.”

“Who?” Arianna didn’t like the way he was holding his head. “Uh, look…I’m not sure who you are, but I’m going to call an ambulance. My cellphone is in the car–”

“No.” Wincing, he struggled to sit.

Arianna did what she could to assist, surprised when he completed the action by climbing to his feet and steadying himself against her. He was taller than she’d thought, six foot-one or two, every inch of him dazed and wobbly male. She could feel the press of his body to hers–sinew and muscle, the taut, well-formed lines of a denim-clad hip and thigh.

“I don’t need an ambulance.” His eyes were touched by an eerie silver sheen. Like an animal’s at night when reflecting light. “I live at Weathering Rock.

“You might have a concussion.”

“No hospital.” He looked away and his face fell back into shadow. It made her wonder if she’d imagined that feral glow. When he spoke again, his speech carried a formal inflection. “May I impose upon you to drive me home? It appears I require assistance.”

“What about your horse?”

“It knows the way.” He pressed two fingers against his temple, his eyes narrowing to painful slits. “I didn’t see you. Like Seth at Crinkeshaw.”

His distraction worried Arianna. It made her reconsider calling an ambulance, but he seemed to read the thought in her eyes. “My…brother…is at home. He’s a doctor.”

“Your brother lives at Weathering Rock?”

“We both do. It’s not far.”

“I know the way.” Forcing herself to speak calmly, Arianna guided him to the passenger’s side of the Sebring. She didn’t know if she was crazy or foolish for helping a stranger into her car. She said a silent prayer he was harmless and wouldn’t turn out to be a deranged serial killer.

“I’m going to call a friend. He’s a cop.”

“No.” He grabbed her wrist and held fast. “I won’t hurt you.”

She balked, disturbed he’d read her mind so easily. He needed to have his head examined if he thought she was going to take his word at face value. Wasn’t she always getting something in her email, forwarded by a well-meaning friend that warned of men who preyed on unsuspecting women? There was nothing to stop him from stuffing her in the trunk and driving off.

Except if he’d wanted to harm her he would have done it by now. Not everyone was an ax murderer or a fugitive from American’s Most Wanted.

She pulled her arm free. “What’s your name?”

“Caleb.” There was pain in his voice, the answer spoken through gritted teeth. “Caleb DeCardian.” He opened the door of the Sebring and folded into the seat. With his face turned away, Arianna did a visual check, searching for blood. She couldn’t see any, but suspected he’d hit his head when he’d fallen. He appeared dazed enough to be nursing a concussion.

Squelching her panic, she rounded the vehicle and climbed in the driver’s side. She left the door hanging open, the dome light brightening the interior of the car while she fished in her purse for her cell. “I have insurance.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I rode out in front of you.”

At least he was honest. What kind of an idiot went for a horseback ride when it was almost midnight? A handsome idiot.

No question about it. His platinum hair was wavy and thick, highlighted by streaks of white-gold. It dipped beneath his collar in the back and covered his ears. The style meshed well with his tailored black frock coat, a strange contrast against the faded denim of his jeans and the tightly defining fit of a navy t-shirt. The clothing molded his body well, accentuating long legs and a broad chest. He must be as eccentric as he was good-looking.

Locating her cell, Arianna punched out her home number and closed the car door. A half-hour earlier she’d left her friend’s home for the night. She didn’t want to worry Lauren over her whereabouts, but thought it wise to play safe. Dating a cop for a year had taught her the value of being cautious. When her answering machine kicked in, she pretended to have a conversation with her friend.

“Hi, Lauren?” Pause. “No, I didn’t get home yet. Something came up. I’ll call you in about twenty minutes, as soon as I get in the door. I’m stopping at Weathering Rock–you know that old house on Blackberry Lane?” A longer pause. “No, I’ll explain later. Talk to you then.” She felt foolish for pulling the charade, but wanted Caleb to think someone was waiting to hear from her.

“Are you all right?” she asked again as she started the ignition and eased the car onto the road.

He gave a noncommittal grunt. It made her think of lawsuits and catastrophic medical bills. Everyone was sue-happy these days. He’d admitted to riding out in front of her, but how quickly would that change once a fee-hungry lawyer sank greedy claws into him?

She could always call Lucas for help, even if she didn’t want to involve the police directly. Her ex-boyfriend would know what to do, though asking for advice was guaranteed to trigger one of his you-need-a-keeper spiels. It was no wonder they’d split up. As Lauren liked to say–there were no King Arthurs left in the world, just Arthurs who expected to be treated like kings.

“Sagehill isn’t far,” she said, contemplating her liability, court dates and how complicated the whole situation might become.

“Weathering Rock is closer.” In the half-gloom of fog and moonlight, Caleb’s eyes flashed like crystal. “What’s your name?”

She considered lying, but smothered the impulse. “Arianna Hart. My friends call me Ari.”

“Annie,” he said, still sounding confused.

She would have corrected him, but grew distracted when he stretched his legs in an attempt to get more comfortable. He was almost too tall for the tiny vehicle, his proximity charging the air with a goosebump-crackle of electricity. The taut pull of faded denim over his thighs was disconcerting, especially when her glance wandered higher, revealing how well his jeans defined all areas of his lower anatomy.

Abruptly warm, she turned her attention back to the road. She had a history of failed relationships, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the male physique. Especially when a man was as well put together as Caleb DeCardian.

“Who’s Meade?’

“What?”

“You said you had to reach Meade.” She eased into a left turn. Overhead, the sky was a patchwork of clouds and stars. “Is that a person or a place?”

“Uh…” The word stuck on his tongue. “Nothing important.” He tilted his head against the seat, his lashes sweeping closed as he dismissed the question. “Thank you, Annie.”

“Ari,” she corrected, falling silent. Weathering Rock was only moments away, but it felt like an eternity. Life would have been much easier if she’d spent the night at Lauren’s like her friend had wanted. Instead, she’d insisted she could navigate the roads, the hour not too late for a drive she’d made countless times before.

Yet in all those times she’d never come upon a rider on horseback wearing a 19th century frock coat. Caleb. Even his name was archaic, his speech and diction distinctly formal. What did she expect from an odd encounter in the middle of the night?

Another curve in the road and Weathering Rock came into view, only the rooftop visible among layers of low-lying fog. Memory told her the house was set back from the road a good hundred yards by a rolling expanse of lawn. Squat pines and a fringe of ash flanked the driveway.

“Almost there,” Arianna told her passenger as she turned the Sebring up the sloping drive. The lane rose at a steady incline, paving the way to a carefully preserved manor home with a broad wraparound porch, white pillars, and multiple chimneys. She stopped at the top of the drive in time to see a man sprint around the house. He raced for the car.

“Are you Doctor DeCardian?” She’d barely managed to open her door before he reached the vehicle.

“Yes!” He shot a glance through the windshield at her passenger, then wrenched open the door. “Caleb? What the hell happened? Ranger came pounding back without you. I thought Seth–” He stopped abruptly as if realizing he’d said too much. “Are you hurt?”

“Headache.” Caleb swung his legs to the ground.

Arianna felt her stomach clench. “What can I do?”

“Get the front door,” the other man–Winston, if she’d heard correctly–instructed.

With a nod, she hurried up the steps, nearly tripping on the narrow front stairs. Behind her, Winston kept one hand clasped around Caleb’s arm as he steered him toward the house.

Panicked by the thought she might have caused him permanent harm, she wrapped a sweat-sticky palm around the doorknob and shoved inside. She should have called Lucas or the cops. She should have done something. But it was too late to be courting shoulda-coulda-wouldas.

She waited as Caleb hobbled past with his brother, then trailed behind them, following down a central hallway. An open arch led to a parlor with blush champagne walls and furnishings of wheat, navy and gold. Her heels clacked on the walnut floorboards, echoing shrilly, rattling her already frayed nerves.

“Sit here.” Winston steered his brother to a medallion-backed sofa with clawed feet. It looked as comfortable as a slab of rock, but Caleb folded into it with an appreciative groan. He bowed his head and massaged his temple.

“I couldn’t tell if he was bleeding,” she blurted to Winston as he breezed past and ducked into an adjoining room. He came back within seconds, carrying a plastic pill vial, prompting Arianna to continue as if he’d never left. “I…I almost ran him down with my car.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Caleb said. “I should have been paying attention.”

“Too worried about Meade or some other dumbass garbage,” Winston muttered, uncapping the vial and tumbling several white tablets into his palm. He thrust two under Caleb’s nose. “Here. I’ll get water.”

“I don’t need it.” Taking the pills, Caleb swallowed them dry. He sagged against the cushions and flicked Winston a sour glance. “Quit looking so damn irritable. I’m not bleeding, I took a spill from my infernal horse.”

Infernal? Arianna cleared her throat. “I know I’m not a doctor, but couldn’t he have a concussion?”

Winston DeCardian looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. As tall as his brother, he had dark wavy hair and shockingly blue eyes. “Of course he could, probably does too, the damn idiot. Caleb suffers from headaches and had one earlier tonight.” He eyed his brother with a frown. “Which is all the more reason to not go riding after dark. You’re lucky this woman was driving by, Caleb.”

“You don’t understand.” Arianna stepped closer, certain he’d drawn the wrong conclusion. “I’m the reason his horse reared. I mean, my car… It wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t yours either,” Caleb said again. He motioned toward his brother. “Winston, meet Arianna Hart. Arianna, my brother Winston.”

“Wyn is fine.” The doctor managed a halfway agreeable nod for Arianna. “Caleb is the only one who calls me Winston.” He waved toward the windows, indicating the road beyond. “Whatever happened out there, I’m glad you stopped to help.”

“I think Arianna should spend the night,” Caleb said, tilting his head against the rear of the sofa and cupping a hand over his forehead.

“What?” She laughed, startled by the suggestion. Damn, if she hadn’t been staring, focused on the way the light defined strands of white-gold and ash in his longish hair. It didn’t help he sat with his legs braced apart, his jeans pulling taut, defining the muscular lines of his thighs. Unlike Lauren, she’d never been attracted to blond men. Lauren’s ex-husband, Rick Rothrock, was the perpetual golden boy of Sagehill–young, handsome and successful.

Feeling her checks flush, she cleared her throat. “I live in Sagehill.” She was thankful neither man had noticed her straying glance. “Twenty minutes and I’ll be home.”

Caleb lowered his hand long enough to meet her eyes. “The fog is growing worse and it’s late.”

“He’s right.” Absently, Wyn laced his fingers through his rumpled black curls. He looked like he’d only woken up, sloppy in comparison to his fair-haired brother. She guessed he’d dressed in a hurry when he heard Caleb’s horse outside. The physical resemblance between the two was slight, and Arianna would have never pegged them as being related.

“I’ll be fine driving home,” she said.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Caleb cast his brother a pointed glance, but his words were for Arianna. “It’s not safe tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“The fog,” Caleb clarified with an easy smile. “It’s building.”

Before she could protest, he stood and gathered her hand in his, the touch igniting sparks along the pads of her fingertips.

“I’d feel better if you stayed here. If you need to call your husband–”

“I’m not married.” Normally she could tell when a man was fishing, trying to discover if she was involved with someone. She’d been on the singles’ scene long enough to know the rules and spot the players, but Caleb bewildered her. Her eyes dropped to his left hand, noting the absence of a wedding ring.

“I live alone.” She cringed as soon as she said it, realizing her blunder. Nothing like announcing she lived by herself and wouldn’t be missed. Why not ring the dinner bell for anyone unscrupulous enough to ditch her body in a remote area where the remains wouldn’t be found for months or years? “Uh, but I’m still friends with my ex-boyfriend. He’s a detective with the Sagehill Police Department and we check in with each other regularly.”

“I see.” Caleb released her hand. “You can call him over there.” He nodded to a table where Arianna noted a wireless handset among a clump of other items–car keys, pens, a pocketknife, unopened mail and a handful of loose change.

She shook her head, embarrassed to appear distrustful when he’d been nothing but understanding. Caleb had a way of looking at her that made her feel like an awkward teenager. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-two or thirty-three, yet seemed older.

“I should go now.” She didn’t believe either man was a threat. They would have harmed her already had that been their intent, but she didn’t want to spend the night with strangers. The only danger outside was a naturally occurring fog, something she’d encountered countless times before.

“I’ll leave my insurance information in case there’s a problem.”

Caleb traded a glance with Wyn, something nonverbal passing between them. “The least I can do is escort you to your vehicle and ensure it wasn’t damaged.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Rummaging a pen and paper from her purse, she jotted down her contact information and left it on the table by the phone. Afterward, both men walked with her outside, Caleb holding the door as she stepped onto the porch.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

The moon was almost completely hidden when Arianna walked outside, cloud cover blotting what few stars remained. Rain lingered on the air, carrying the promise of a brewing storm. The wind scattered the hair around her face and sent the long tails of Caleb’s coat flapping back from his legs.

“I don’t like the weather,” he muttered to Wyn. He offered Arianna his hand and guided her down the steps. She smiled, unable to remember when a man had last shown her such elegant courtesy. At the bottom he released her, his eyes narrowed on the horizon.

“Winston.”

Arianna felt a shift in the weather, followed by the touch of something inexplicably cold. The darkness thrummed with a low-level vibration, climbing in pitch until it crashed over her in a whistling shriek. Confused, she covered her ears, looking about for the source of the sound. At her side, Caleb hissed in a breath.

“Winston!”

The authoritative crack of his voice jarred her. All around her, the darkness erupted in short bursts of light like a string of exploding flashbulbs. Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! The stench of ozone and sulfur filled the air.

Wyn muttered a curse and raced for the driveway. Arianna was too focused on the appearance of four glowing spheres to pay attention to what he was doing. They dipped to the ground, pulsing with a ghost-white light before soaring upward to vanish in the blink of an eye.

“Did you see that?” she cried. “That was ball lightning!”

Caleb ignored her excitement and steered her briskly toward her car. In the darkness his hair glimmered coin-bright, as eerily luminescent as the lightning had been. “I wish you’d reconsider and spend the night. The weather is turning foul.”

“Who cares?” Arianna jerked free. “Caleb, do you realize how many people flock to this area hoping to see what we did?”

He frowned, towering over her. “Annie, it’s nothing more than lightning.”

“My name is Ari!” She glared, irked he’d use his height to intimidate her.

“Not that I want to get in the middle of your argument,” Wyn called from the driveway. “But I think you’ve got a flat, Arianna.”

“What?” Wrenched from her anger, she whirled to find Wyn crouched by her car. In the glow from the porch lights, she saw the right front tire was flat, the Sebring leaning to the side. “That’s just great!”

“Looks like you might have punctured it on a nail,” Wyn said. “Do you have a spare?”

“In the trunk.” She’d probably run over something when the car lurched onto the shoulder of the road. What else could go wrong? Forgetting her excitement over the ball lightning, she used her electronic key fob to pop the trunk.

“It’s late,” Caleb said, trailing behind her. A rumble of thunder rolled from the distance. “And it’s going to storm. We’ll change the tire for you in the morning.”

She turned to face him. If she were given to superstition, she’d be tempted to think events conspired to keep her at Weathering Rock. That he conspired to keep her at Weathering Rock.

“I’ll call a cab.” She could just as easily phone Triple A and have the tire repaired. If he were any kind of gentleman he’d change it now, storm or no storm.

“Annie.” Caleb took her hand, that strange luminescent glow turning his eyes to silver foil.

Like a wolf. She wasn’t certain where the thought came from or why.

“It’s not safe tonight.” The heat of his fingers was warm and assuring against her palm, his voice spellbinding. “You don’t have to leave.”

She tried to fluff off the seriousness of his tone, but her mouth was dry. Between the fog, ball lightning and his gravely cryptic warning, she felt like she’d stepped into an old Vincent Price movie. The smartest thing she could do was leave, but she stood rooted to the spot.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promised just as he’d done in the car.

“I–”

“You will stay, won’t you?”

She flushed, feeling suddenly foolish for her anxiety. His eyes were normal again, blue tinted with shadow. “It’s not that I think you’re an ax murderer or anything.”

“I won’t object if you want to call your answering machine again.”

“What?”

“I have exceptionally keen hearing.” He grinned, his teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t so cautious.”

Embarrassed to be caught in her charade with the recorder, Arianna lowered her eyes.

“Winston, I think our guest is going to stay the night,” Caleb called to his brother.

This time she nodded. “I do need to call my friend, Lauren. She was worried about me driving home and asked that I check in with her.”

“An intelligent lady.”

When they were back indoors, Caleb pointed out the phone in the parlor. She could tell his headache had returned. His eyes narrowed against the pain.

“I’ll use my cell later,” Arianna said.

“Then I’ll see you in the morning. Winston will show you to the guest bedroom. There’s a necessary room…uh, powder room beside it.” He tripped over the term as if it were unfamiliar. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to lie down.”

Arianna had already grown accustomed to his unusual word choices and formal speech.

His skin had grayed and a stippling of sweat was visible on his cheeks. Uneasy, she watched him leave.

“Don’t worry,” Wyn said, interpreting her thoughts. “I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m used to his headaches.” He motioned toward the doorway, grinning good-naturedly. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

“Thank you.”

Arianna followed as he led her down a hallway toward the rear of the house. The floorboards creaked under her feet, reminding her Weathering Rock was old, steeped in the traditions of yesteryear. She could almost hear the whispers of another age echoing through the halls, conjuring images of horse-drawn carriages and gas lanterns, gentlemen with top hats and walking sticks, women in hooped skirts, their petticoats brushing plank floorboards as they whisked room to room. It was like stepping backward in time. It wouldn’t have surprised her to learn she was dreaming.

Certainly, the events of the night could be no crazier than any illusion sleep might conjure.

* * * *

“You’re where?” Lauren said into the phone, flabbergasted.

“Weathering Rock,” Arianna repeated.

“You mean that big old house off Blackberry Lane? The weird one that’s supposed to attract ball lightning?”

“That’s the one.”

Too keyed up to sit, Arianna paced the guestroom. “I had a small accident on the way home.” And met an incredibly sexy man with silver eyes and an old-fashioned personality. That part would keep until tomorrow.

Lauren drew a sharp breath. “Ari, you’re scaring me. Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” Walking to the window, she pushed the drapes aside and stared into the darkness. Her reflection leaped back like a disembodied ghost–raven hair, dark green eyes, her skin pale as milk in the night-blackened glass. The rain had arrived, pushed by a fury of wind and thunder. It pelted the windows, making her feel safe indoors.

I won’t hurt you, Caleb had promised. Why was it so important to him she stay?

She told her friend what happened, skipping her conflicting emotions about her blond-haired host.

“And you’re actually staying?” Lauren gave a cluck of disbelief. “I don’t care if it is raining, I’ll come get you. For all we know, one of them could have punctured your tire so you’d be stuck there.”

“You’ve seen too many slasher movies, Lauren. I’ll be fine.” She couldn’t explain why, but felt secure in the house, as if something sinister lurked outside. As long as she remained within the walls of Weathering Rock, she was protected from that unnamed threat.

By Caleb.

The thought shocked her. She eased to a seat on the bed, absently fingering the white eyelet cover. The furnishings looked plucked from a storybook, the bed dressed in a pale blue canopy and flirty skirted ruffle. The matching bureau was squat and old-fashioned with a standing mirror and gold-veined marble top. A walnut washstand with a pitcher and bowl was tucked into the corner.

“I’ll call you in the morning when I get home.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“Positive.” Arianna smiled, appreciating her friend’s concern. Lauren had been through a divorce eight months ago, the experience leaving her jaded when it came to trusting men. She had Rick Rothrock to thank for that. To her credit, Lauren had remained friends with her ex-husband, a successful real estate developer who’d two-timed her with his marketing director. In the end, she’d walked away with a sizable settlement, and the marketing director had been fired in favor of someone who could do the job rather than parade around in short skirts and stiletto heels.

“All right.” Lauren exhaled into the phone. “But I expect a call in the morning, followed by details in the afternoon. How about dropping by my shop after you finish your errands?”

“Deal.” Running Saturday errands was a regular routine for Arianna and she most always ended at Lauren’s boutique for a visit afterward. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

She said goodbye and set the cell within reach on the nightstand. Rain continued to batter the windows in fierce bursts, backlit by strobes of lightning. The intermittent flash made her think of the ball lightning she’d seen earlier, an occurrence Caleb had been reluctant to acknowledge. Yet another oddity from a man who excelled at them.

Yawning, she glanced at her watch. It was after one in the morning and the events of the night had finally caught up with her. She switched off the light and opened the drapes, inviting the frenzied dance of the storm indoors. She shimmied from her jeans and top and crawled into bed, the cotton sheets blessedly cool against her bare skin. Moments later, as she was drifting toward sleep, a rattling crack of thunder drew her upright.

Outside, lightning transformed the night into surreal-whitened day, silhouetting the bulk of a large animal against the window. Arianna recoiled from the touch of its eyes, yellow in the flash-fire burst of the storm. The image lasted only a pulse-beat before it was swallowed by darkness.

She shoved from the bed, hastily pulling on her blouse to cover herself, and threw open the window. The night had bled into a cauldron of shadow and patchy fog, making it impossible to see more than a few feet. The air was redolent with wet grass and worm-rich soil, an odor that made her think of swollen riverbeds and bogs. Rain pelted her face and left her shivering in her skimpy bra and panties. The animal–if animal it had been–had been swallowed by the storm.

She closed the window, careful to secure the lock.

It’s not safe tonight, Caleb had said.

She shook away a chill, convinced she’d been dreaming. The animal must have been a figment of her sleep-hazed mind. The events of the ni. . .