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And I’ve learned to always trust my gut.
This time, when we pull into Terremagie, we don’t stop. Erik slows to look for oncoming traffic at the caution light, then pulls through and accelerates back to the speed limit. The forest outside my window zips by in a kaleidoscope of greens and browns, and before I know it, the SUV is slowing again. Erik pulls the vehicle off the road, and Jesse releases my hand for the first time since we climbed into the car earlier.
I pop open my door and hop down, my gaze focusing on the small mile marker that reads “eighty-one.” I walk around the car as the others pile out, looking both ways before crossing the highway and stopping at the edge of the woods.
I feel everyone crowd in behind me, waiting for my cue to proceed. This is my circus. My monkeys. The others just along for the ride.
Jesse’s hand curls around mine, and I look over to meet his eyes. He gives me an encouraging nod, and we step past the tree line and into the shadows of the forest. Somewhere behind us, I know Steph has the location pulled up in her phone’s map app, but I don’t need directions this time.
I know where I’m going. I can feel the energy of the place pulling me in the right direction.
Several minutes later, the trees thin out, and I can see the weathered boards of the ramshackle buildings peeking through the greenery. When our group steps out of the foliage and into the clearing, I freeze, my gaze darting around the space.
Something is different.
The township looks as deserted and undisturbed as it did before, but I feel like I’m visiting it for the first time. Like this is some mirror image, a reflection of the place where my ancestors built their new home.
“Eden?”
Jesse’s whispered plea is filled with concern, and I shake my head to let him know I’m fine without looking at him. My eyes narrow as I study every inch of the village, searching for some explanation as to why it seems so different today.
Then it hits me.
“I don’t smell anything,” I murmur, tightening my grip on Jesse’s hand as I move forward.
That scent of decomposing flowers that led me to my vision isn’t present this time. And that gut feeling that led me on the right path to reach this place today disappeared the moment I saw the vine-covered, moldy slats of the closest building.
I feel nothing. I smell nothing but the scents of the woods surrounding us. I hear nothing but the crack of branches in the wind, the calls of various birds, and the scuffle of tiny feet on the leaf-littered floor of the forest.
I look over my shoulder at Steph. “Do you sense any magic?”
She shakes her head slowly. “No. But I didn’t feel any last time, either.”
I look over at Jesse, then Erik, then Leif. “Anything?”
Each vampire shakes his head, and my shoulders slump. Whatever magic was here before has fled this place. Sighing, I move forward, and the others follow. Jesse releases my hand, letting me lead the way while he stays close by my side.
I head toward the building where my vision occurred, and the others crowd in close as if their proximity will protect me. I don’t really want the protection. I want to have another vision. I want answers to the questions my last vision left me with.
When I step over the threshold, I unconsciously brace for the pain I experienced before. Jesse’s arm curls around my waist, stabilizing me should I fall to the floor again. I meet his gaze, even darker in the shadowed interior of this place, and shake my head.
“Nothing,” I say on a sigh. “There’s nothing here.”
The birthing scene I saw before flashes through my mind, and I shuffle toward the spot where the table would’ve been. I can still see Bethany Grundelier stretched across its surface, panting and screaming as she brought a new life into this world.
Eve.
I hear the footsteps of the others as they explore the place, but Jesse remains by my side, his arm around me a comfort.
“She was right here,” I whisper. “On a table while a midwife named Greenly delivered the baby and a woman with a French accent encouraged her to push.”
“I found something,” Steph calls out, cutting off whatever response Jesse was about to give.
I spin around, dislodging his arm as I rush toward my friend. She’s squatting near the hearth, her fingers trailing over the smooth floorboards in front of it. I fall to my knees beside her and study the strange markings she’s discovered.
“What is this?” I ask, reaching down to trace the odd shapes with my own finger.
“I don’t know what it means,” she replies, “but they look like some kind of sigils.”
