Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

Evan—something told her it was Evan. Maddie licked her lips and wondered if she should call her sister—or was she just worrying over nothing again?

“Maddie, what’s wrong?”

She stared at him blankly for a moment. “My sister has a thirteen-year-old son named Evan. Both of them were in Taurin Bay last month.”

“Damn!” Jon ran a hand through his hair, then abruptly walked forward, stopping only when his knees touched the side of her bed.

He was close, so close. She could see the rise and fall of his chest, feel the whisper of his breath wash across her skin. Could smell him—a faint scent of cologne mixed with hints of earth and sweat. But he wasn’t real, damn it!

“Over the last two years, sixteen teenagers have been taken from their homes and haven’t been seen alive again. In each case, no locks or windows were disturbed. And each time, the teenager was taken on the next full moon after their families returned from Taurin Bay.”

Her heart leaped. She raised a hand to her throat and tried to remain calm. “Evan is safe at home. This is ridiculous.”

“Someone is drawing me here, Madeline. Someone who knows he’s in danger. You’re the connection between us. Tonight is a full moon. Go call your sister.”

She scrambled off the bed and ran to the bedroom door. Then she hesitated, looking back at Jon. He hadn’t moved, but his body had faded, losing its shape to the darkness. Only his blue eyes were still bright.

“Go call her,” he said. “Then come to me. Save me.”

Maddie turned away from his plea, though she knew he wouldn’t be there when she returned. She ran down the hall to the phone in the kitchen, turning on lights as she went. Somehow, the darkness seemed too intense to face alone.

Fingers trembling, she picked up the phone and dialed Jayne’s number. It seemed to ring forever. Maddie bit her lip, hoping nothing had happened, hoping that Evan was in bed and safe.

“Hello?” a croaky, half-asleep voice said eventually.

“Jayne, it’s me,” she said without preamble. “Is Evan there? Is he all right?”

There was a slight pause, and Maddie could hear the rustle of blankets as her sister shifted around in her bed. “Of course he is. Why?”

Because I’m a fool; because a ghost told me he may be in danger. “Humor your little sister and just go check, will you?”

Jayne sighed. “Maddie, have you been drinking again?”

Maddie closed her eyes. Whenever Jayne thought she had a problem, she asked the same question—even though it had been six years and ten days since Maddie had last had a drink. She hadn’t touched alcohol since the fire that had taken her husband’s life. The experts had never found an explanation for that fire, though they had theories aplenty. Maddie knew the truth, but she wasn’t about to tell anyone—not even her sister.

She cleared her throat. “No. I had a dream, and I want to reassure myself he’s all right.”

“For God’s sake, it’s almost two.” Annoyance ran through Jayne’s voice, but at least she was still listening. She hadn’t yet slammed the phone down.

“I’m well aware of the time. It will only take a minute to check on Evan. Please.”

“I guess I’d better,” her sister muttered, “or you’ll be calling all night again.”

Maddie heard Steve, Jayne’s husband, murmur something disparaging, then the squeak of springs as Jayne got out of bed. Maddie grimaced, hoping she was overreacting. Hoping Jon wasn’t right. She stared out the kitchen window as she waited, watching the snow flurries dance across her yard. Then she heard the sound of returning footsteps and felt her stomach knot. Please let Evan be safe.

“Evan’s sound asleep in bed, Maddie.” Jayne’s voice was a mix of exasperation and annoyance. “And so should you be.”

This time Jayne did hang up on her, but Maddie didn’t mind. Jon had been wrong. Evan was okay. She replaced the receiver, then thrust a shaking hand through her hair as she sagged back against the wall in relief. Maybe Jayne was right. Maybe all she needed was a good night’s sleep—something that had eluded her ever since her world had disappeared into flames.

She closed her eyes, fighting the memories, fighting the sudden need to wash the pain into oblivion with a drink. That chapter of her life was over. She would not return to it, even through memories. And if Jon did come back, she’d tell him to go find someone else to haunt. She wasn’t interested—not if the cost was to make her sister think she was stranger than ever.

HIS ONLY CHANCE OF SURVIVAL WAS A WOMAN AFRAID OF life. Jon shook his head at the irony of it and leaned wearily against the cold stone wall of the well. He’d seen the fear in the amber flame of her eyes, in the tremor in her hands as she ran her fingers through her chestnut-colored hair. She was afraid to move from the safety of her home.

And he would die if she didn’t.

He smiled grimly and stared up at the pale stars twinkling in the dark bracket of sky far above him.

How he wished he could fly, simply wing his way up out of the well to freedom! But with his arm like this, he couldn’t even climb. He glanced down, noting that his flesh had swollen around the handkerchief he’d tied across his forearm.