Circle of Fire (Damask Circle 1)

“Feel free to call if you need anything,” he said, smiling as he gave her the key.

His fingers brushed hers, hot and yet clammy. She shuddered and pulled her hand away.

“If you want to go out tonight, just let me know,” he continued. “I usually lock the door after eleven unless any of our guests are still out.”

She hesitated and glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven now. Who knew how long it would take her to find Jon’s well? “I do have plans to go out for a while.”

He nodded. “Anything else?”

“Is there a map of the area I can use?”

“Over on the mantel,” he said, and walked away.

She firmly closed and locked the door behind him, then leaned her forehead against it for a moment. Her whole body was trembling, and she suddenly felt sick. Over what? A man with strange brown eyes who’d offered her no threat in anything he’d said or done? I’m no good at this sort of thing. I should have stayed home.

She took a deep breath, then walked over to the mantel. Spreading the map out on the coffee table, she knelt to study it.

Jon had given her a fairly good description of the area where he’d fallen into the well. All she had to do was remember it—not an easy thing when she’d been so petrified by his appearance that first time.

She traced the lines of roads with her fingers until she found one that sounded familiar. She followed it along until it went through a state forest. That was it. That was the area.

After rolling up the map, she picked up the room key and headed downstairs and out to her truck. The night air was cold, and the wind carried the hint of snow. Maddie glanced up. The stars had disappeared behind a wall of clouds. She hoped the snow held off—not just for Jon’s sake, but Evan’s as well. The teenagers might have blankets to keep them warm, but there’d been no sign of a fire in the old cabin. If bad weather moved in, they might freeze to death before anyone found them.

She just had to hope Jon’s directions—or her memories of them—were accurate. The last thing she wanted was to drive around for hours. Every second was vital if she was to find Evan alive—of that much she was certain.

But if someone had shot Jon, there was no telling how accurate his directions were, though he’d seemed pretty lucid whenever he’d appeared. Not that she was a good judge of character—she’d married Brian, after all. And for all she knew, Jon could be totally crazy.

But in the end, it didn’t really matter. He could have horns and sprout wings, and she wouldn’t give a damn. Not if he helped her to find Evan.

She’d caused her family far too much grief over the years. Maybe now she had a chance to redeem herself.

She started the truck, then glanced at the street map one more time before driving off. Twenty minutes later, she was back in the mountains. The road’s incline grew steeper and pines began to crowd the edges. It didn’t seem to be the area in which to find a well—yet, oddly enough, it did seem the type of area Jon would enjoy. Strange how she had gleaned so much from the few hours they’d spent together.

She drove through the gates that designated the beginning of the state forest. The road became a dirt track several yards in. She slowed. If she’d read the map right, there was a small turnoff half a mile ahead. It would take her right past the shared fence line of the old farm Jon had mentioned.

The turn came up faster than she’d expected. She swung the steering wheel hard. Saplings slapped against the windows, and something hard scraped along the body of the truck. Heart pounding rapidly, she straightened the wheels and slowed down even further. The headlights picked out the fine strands of wire running parallel to the road.

She stopped and got out. An owl hooted in the distance—a haunting sound in the silence. The chill breeze spun around her, stirring the pine branches above her head and whipping thick strands of hair away from her ponytail. She caught the flyaway ends, tucking them under the collar of her jacket, then studied the fields before her. Somehow, the place felt right. She couldn’t explain how or why, but she knew that Jon was here somewhere. Either that, or she was finally going mad.

She grimaced. That was still a very real possibility. After all, here she was in the middle of nowhere, trusting the words of a man who might yet prove to be a ghost.

She grabbed the flashlight and locked the truck. The fence was a mix of plain and barbed wire. After climbing through carefully, she studied the dark field. Where was the most logical place for a well? She swung the light from left to right but couldn’t see any possibilities. Yet in the distance she could see the dark outline of several buildings. The old farmhouse, maybe? It was as good a place as any to look.

It took five minutes of tramping through the overgrown field to reach the outbuildings. To the right of what looked to have been a barn was an odd-shaped mound of stone. Her heart leaped and she ran toward it. Please, please, let this be it …

She slid to a stop and leaned over the uneven wall. The knobby edges of the stone dug into her stomach as she directed the flashlight into the well. Deep down in the darkness, gold flickered.

“Jon?” She waited anxiously for an answer, but nothing came. Maybe he was unconscious. “Jon!”

This time something stirred. She leaned over the edge a little more, desperate to catch any noise.

“Jon!” her voice echoed. After a moment, she heard a soft groan. He was down there all right, but he had to be awake if she was going to help him. She couldn’t get him out of the well on her own. “Answer me, damn it!”

“Madeline?” His soft question was harsh with disbelief.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. Crying wouldn’t help anyone. It certainly wouldn’t help him. “I’m here. I’ve got some rope in the truck. I’ll go get it, but you have to stay awake, okay?”

He grunted or groaned in reply—she wasn’t sure which. She ran back across the field, the flashlight weaving uneasy patterns through the darkness ahead. She hesitated when she reached the fence. Was there a gate somewhere, or would she have to cut the wire? The light reflected oddly on something to her right—someone had looped the wire loosely around a pole. Once undone, the gap would be wide enough to drive the truck through.