Ty-mmm. Ty-mmm.
Fear drove through Zane, an icy spike piercing his lungs, stealing his breath. He dared to glance away, to scan the alley for the fiend responsible. Empty. The darkness before him demanded his attention, beckoned his unwilling gaze.
Ty-mmm.
Sharp beaks split to emit their craggy call. Malevolent, inky orbs locked on him. The crows shuffled, irritation ruffling their feathers, claws stabbing the ground, until they stood in lines.
14
Shit. Rage consumed his fear, shot sizzling fury through his body. Zane rushed the crows, kicking at the foul birds until they launched into the air. Blackness enveloped him, a twisting rampage of wings and claws. Lifting his arms to protect his head, he dropped to his knees and hunched over.
The frenzied mass exploded above him with a muffled report, and Zane risked a glance skyward. He stared, his heart crashing against his sternum with each beat. Black feathers littered the air, wafting on a gentle breeze to the ground where they disintegrated into ash.
Zane shoved to his feet, forcing his legs to move toward the parking lot. “I still have fourteen days left,” he growled. “So, fuck you.”
Chapter Eight
Fallon knelt to tie the laces on her sneaker while she pondered the nerves twisting through her stomach. Between the nightmare filled with evil voices and the pain in her knee and shoulder, she’d gotten little sleep. This morning, she’d awakened with an overwhelming urge to get back to Texas and Zane.
She shifted to tie her other shoe and debated whether to call him again. A quick glance at her watch settled the issue. Seven o’clock here in Maine meant six a.m. in Texas, and she had no clue whether he was an early riser or enjoyed lazing in the sheets till ten—something she planned to learn when she returned home. But the memory of seeing him in the middle of the road last night plagued her. She squeezed her eyes closed, images of the crash tumbling through her mind. Crawling from the car, the freak storm, those eerie blazing eyes…. Had they even been real? She sucked in a breath, reliving the worst part of the accident—worrying whether she’d hit Zane or not and if he’d been bleeding out on the highway while she’d sat helpless and trapped next to her burning rental car.
Even after speaking with Zane last night, something indefinable continued to plague her. She needed to get to him, to touch him and ensure he was safe.
A sharp knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts, and she found Erik, bright-eyed and smiling, on the other side of the threshold.
“Morning,” he said and held up a legal envelope. “You get one of these?”
She nodded. “Found it under my door this morning. Says the will reading takes place on the island.”
His mouth thinned, and he tucked the envelope in his back pocket. “I thought it would be held at some lawyer’s office in town. Not in our eccentric aunt’s actual home.” He raised an eyebrow. “Curiouser and curiouser.”
“Yeah, Alice.” She grinned at the fantasy story reference. “Let’s hope there aren’t any white rabbits running late or bottles labeled ‘drink me.’”
“If there are, you can take the first sip,” he said, his gold eyes, so similar to her own, sparkling in the morning light.
“Thanks.” She laughed.
“Ready to go?”
“Sure am.” She grabbed her purse, more than a tad intrigued to learn about her mysterious Aunt Serida.
After a quick breakfast at the motel’s diner, Erik drove her to a local boutique the waitress had recommended. A short perusal resulted in a nice outfit for the day and a pair of jeans and cotton shirt for the plane ride home tomorrow. They stopped by the hotel for her to change and drop off her purchases before heading to the marina and the boat waiting to take them to their late aunt’s house.
The thought of going to the island, one she’d only heard awful things about, had her heart racing. Having Erik nearby calmed her a little. She glanced at him, noting again how his jet-black hair matched her own. Hopefully, they would at least have some answers as to how they were related. Cousins, perhaps? But even if they didn’t, he’d become a great friend, and, somehow, she knew he would remain so.
Erik parked the SUV in a gravel lot at the marina, and, together, they located pier eight. Side by side, they marched past sailboats and cruisers, their shoes thumping on the weathered boards. When they approached the sleek yacht at the end of the floating walkway, Fallon glanced around at the other moored boats.
“This can’t be right,” she said.
Erik reread the paper. “The directions say slip eighty-eight C.”
She frowned. “But it’s huge.”
He looked up and nodded. “Over forty feet, I’d say.” He glanced down at her, his eyebrows raised. “It appears our departed aunt enjoyed traveling in style.”
As they moved toward the yacht, the knot of dread in Fallon’s stomach drew tighter. Maybe her car wreck had unnerved her more than she realized, or maybe it was the stories of her reclusive aunt and that poor waitress’s lost fiancé. She didn’t know, but it wasn’t often her intuition led her astray. The whole affair seemed off.
“Hello?” Erik called out as they reached the vessel.
A middle-aged man strode to the side of the boat. Tall and with a crisp captain’s cap perched on his head, he raised a hand in greeting. “You two here for the will reading?”
“Yes, sir,” Erik said.
“Well, come aboard, then.” The man glanced at his watch. “We’re running late.”
As they stepped onto the boat, the captain handed them each a bottle of water and gestured toward a cushioned bench at the aft of the craft.
Fallon sighed, thankful that at least it had turned out to be a beautiful day. The sun hung in a deep-blue sky with huge cotton ball clouds sprinkled about. She shed the light-green sweater she wore and draped it over her arm. Seagulls cried, coasting through the breeze and floating on the water. The smell of saltwater permeated the air, the rich gray-blue ocean beckoning.
The entire scene should have been calming, but an almost overpowering sense of menace surrounded her. As if evil watched, waiting to strike out. Goose bumps broke out on Fallon’s arms, and she shrugged the sweater over her shoulders.
“Chilled?” Erik stared at her, his brow furrowed.
“Yeah.” Did he feel it, too? That unshakable portent of doom on what should have been a gorgeous Maine day.
She tried to force the bad feelings away. Between last night and now, she was becoming downright maudlin.
Movement on the pier caught her attention, and when she shifted to see past Erik, she tensed, shock jolting through her.
The man and woman who headed toward the yacht could have been her and Erik’s twins. Except for the guy’s military-style haircut and the girl’s cropped hair, they were their doppelgangers.
“Erik.” She reached for his hand, clutching his fingers. “Good Lord, Erik, look.”
The couple strode to the boat launch, the captain allowing them onboard with a curt tap of his watch. They headed toward the aft of the yacht, their expressions strained, and when their gazes landed on Fallon and Erik, they stumbled to a stop. The man scowled and reached for the woman’s hand. He whispered something in her ear, an ominous glint in his eyes. She nodded, and, together, they approached with caution.
Erik rose from the cushioned bench, shifting into a protective stance in front of Fallon. Holding out his hand, he said, “Erik Greyson.”
“Hi, I’m Wyatt Boudreaux, and this is Amber Starling.” His gaze flicked from the woman to Fallon and back to Erik. “Damn, someone has some explaining to do.”
“You think? I’d really like to hear that explanation,” Erik said, his voice low with a steely edge. “Do you have one?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I was hoping you did. You two are here for the will reading.” It wasn’t a question.
Fallon moved from behind Erik. “We are. I’m Fallon Anderson. I flew in from Texas last night.” She stared at the two, a bizarre
sense of déjà vu engulfing her again. Seemed since she’d arrived in Maine, she’d been having a rash of oddly familiar moments. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but this is so strange. You look just like us.”
For the first time, Wyatt cracked a smile, the thick tension dissolving. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. His hair is too long, and I’ve got a better tan.” He sobered and scanned the area around them. “Seriously, though, it’s obvious somebody went to a load of trouble to get us together. Let me guess. You’re both adopted, only children.”
“Uh, yeah,” Fallon said. “You?”
“Yup.” Wyatt tilted his head toward the woman next to him. “Amber is from California. She flew in yesterday, too. I actually live here in Sentinel Harbor. You, Erik?”
“Colorado. And, yeah, I was adopted and don’t have any other family than my parents, who are good people and wouldn’t have kept something this big from me.”
“Sorry, but it seems as though they did.” Wyatt dragged his hand down his face. “Okay, so one of us has to state the obvious. The four of us are related. What that relationship is I don’t know, although I’ve got a good guess. I, for one, want some answers.”
The outboard engines sputtered to life with a burbling rumble, and Erik said, “Guess we’re about to get some.”
The yacht eased away from the pier. Once they cleared the marina, the vessel picked up speed, dashing over the choppy ocean and leaving a frothy trail in its wake. A cool breeze swept over Fallon, and she wished she’d brought warmer clothes.
She eyed Wyatt and Amber, who sat nearby. A single question kept rolling around her brain—how was she related to them? This whole situation was beyond bizarre. She wished she had time to call Zane and talk to him. Not for the first time since her plane had landed in Maine, she regretted not asking him to come along. Those safe, strong arms would feel mighty good around her right now. Instead, she was on a boat with three strangers who held an uncanny likeness to her.
As the island loomed closer, the sun disappeared behind a thick, gray bank of clouds that had rolled in from the southwest. Abrupt gusts of air whipped over the waters, carrying a bone-deep chill. Fallon tugged her sweater back on and buttoned it up to her neck.
“There it is.” Wyatt pointed to the fog-shrouded, rocky coastline.
The yacht slowed, and they all rose to stand at the side of the boat. Despite the warmth of Erik on one side of her and Amber on the other, Fallon shivered. Trepidation thumped, feral claws slashing through her, while she stared toward their destination.
Rangy pines and dense cedar trees lined the shore. A riot of granite boulders lay over a thin ribbon of sand, so many it seemed the rocks struggled to remain on land while the hungry ocean lapped at their craggy heels. Fallon hugged herself. Why would anyone live in such a place on purpose? Once again, the master of the macabre, Stephen King, popped into her head. This place seemed straight from one of his novels.
“I agree. It’s one scary place,” Erik said.
Startled, Fallon glanced at him. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, you did. You said the island looked like it was from a Stephen King novel.” He frowned, his eyes reflecting the same anxiousness swirling through her. “It does.”
“No, I thought that, but I didn’t say it out loud. And, you know, this isn’t the first time that’s happened. I’ve thought things, and you’ve heard them. It happened last night and this morning. I’ve also heard your thoughts in my head.” Releasing her grip on the railing, she wrapped her arms around herself and angled toward him. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. I guess it just felt so normal to me I didn’t even realize it.” He reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “We’ll get some answers. I’ll make sure of it.”
“We’ll both make sure of it,” Wyatt said, moving closer to them. “Amber and I have had the same thing happen, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it happens to all of us now that we’re together.” He peered down at Fallon, his gold eyes meeting hers. “Erik and I will make sure this meeting goes smoothly and we get to the bottom of whatever is going on.”
His words carried such confidence she relaxed a little. She’d walked into burning buildings and rescued people, but never had she been so thankful not to be alone as she was now.
“We’ll do it together,” she said.
“Yes.” Amber met her gaze, one corner of her mouth tugging upward into a half smile. “Together.”
A flash on the undulating waters caught Fallon’s attention, and she twisted to discover a set of fiery eyes glaring up from the depths. Without warning, the air seemed to thicken, to vibrate faster and faster until her entire body shook. She pivoted to warn the others, but a shrill wail assaulted her ears, the sound piercing her skull. Pain hammered her head, and she covered her ears, but the onslaught continued, and she dropped to her knees.
Amber tumbled to the deck, clamping her head in her hands. Her eyes squeezed shut, she screamed, and her face contorted into a mask of fear and pain.
And with the same abruptness that marked the start of the aberrant attack, the screeching ceased and the battering vibrations attenuated.
Wyatt knelt at Amber’s side, lifting her from the floor and cradling her in his arms. She clutched his shirt, her head lolling against his shoulder. Bright crimson blood flowed from her nose.
Confused and a bit disoriented, Fallon looked toward Erik. If the two men had been affected by the noise, they didn’t show it.
Fallon slumped over her knees and sucked in a breath, attempting to slow her racing heart. Her ears rang, and a headache pounded her brain with a maul. But, hell, she’d been through worse—burns, abrasions, a cracked ulna. Way worse than this little psychic assault. She swallowed. Had the fiery eyes in the water been the same ones she’d seen last night in the darkness?
Erik grabbed her hand, and she jolted. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. I’m fine,” she lied. She was anything but fine. Seemed since her last fire where she’d rescued that kid from his parents’ closet, nothing had been fine.
“What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know.” She gestured toward Wyatt, her joints aching with the movement. “Go check on Amber.”
Erik rose to stand near Amber and Wyatt. Pulling out a handkerchief, he handed it to her and glanced at Wyatt. “What the hell was that?”
Amber wiped the blood away and sat a little straighter. Wyatt squeezed her shoulder and shifted away from her. He shook his head, a faraway look surfacing his eyes.
“Well, I could tell you what the townsfolk think it is, but that’s all urban legend.” He released Amber, stood, and stared with wide eyes at the island. “This place is like the Bermuda Triangle of the north. I have no idea what that noise was, but it obviously affected the girls differently than it did us. There’s something evil out here. I’ve felt it all my life.” He turned to face them again. “It was always this elusive feeling I couldn’t quite name. Something in the back of my mind that I recognized, but didn’t at the same time.” He shook his head. “I know that makes no sense, but, believe me, I lost my best friend out here. If it were something tangible, I’d have hunted it down a long time ago.”
Nobody said anything for a few moments. The boat’s engines sputtered into reverse, slowing the craft, and a dock came into view. In a few moments, they would be on the island.
“Well, looks like we’re here.” Fallon shifted to face the others. Not one to run from a fight, she squared her shoulders and said, “Anybody have an aspirin? I have one mother of a headache after that noise.”
Amber laughed and dug into her purse. “I’m right there with you. Can’t say I’ll be sorry if that never happens again.”
Fallon took the pills from Amber and washed them down with her bottled water. The captain tied the boat off and waited to assist the women from the craft. Taking a deep breath, Fallon disembarked, and as she ambled down the rickety, old dock, she peered over her shoulder. The capt
ain boarded the yacht and disappeared below deck. To await their return trip, she supposed. During their transition to the island, he’d remained grim and silent He’d nodded to each of them, appearing unaffected. Had he known about the screeching wail? Or had he even heard it all?
“You coming?” Wyatt called.
“Right behind you,” Fallon said and hurried after them.
They followed a dirt path deep into the woods, the foliage so thick sunlight struggled to slip through the dense network of branches and greenery. The ground lay even and well-worn beneath their feet. How many had traveled this trail?
What the hell was she even doing here? She should be back in Texas with Zane, not attending the will reading for an aunt she’d never known existed. Yet here she was, marching behind Erik, the events of the last twenty-four hours tumbling through her mind. Even with all the crazy and deadly events, she felt compelled to continue forward, a deep-seated voice whispering she had to keep moving, that she couldn’t avoid destiny.
Fallon steeled herself and said, “Did you guys…?”
Erik looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“Did you see anything?” She swallowed, knowing she sounded like a loon. “Before that freaky noise. Something in the water?”
“No.” He frowned. “One minute, everything was fine. The next, you two were convulsing.”
“Convulsing?” Amber said. “Really?”
“It was only a few seconds,” Wyatt said in a rush. He glared at Erik. “And I wouldn’t call it convulsing. More like jerking.”
“God,” Fallon muttered. She rubbed her arms, attempting to rid herself of the icy chill that had settled on her skin.
Wyatt shifted his gaze to her. “So, what was that about the water?”
She shrugged. “I thought I saw something, but….”
They’d stopped on the trail, and three sets of expectant eyes stared at her. Should she say something?
Erik touched her shoulder. “What is it, Fallon?”
Waltz into Fire (The Sentinals Book 1) Page 7
