Was Mistress Bramble directing those words at me, or were they part of her story?
We woke up Seraphina.
But Seraphina is gone.
The curse destroyed her, and in her destruction, the curse was destroyed.
My eyes grow heavy, but my mind continues to churn.
De Vratand hisZwarte Muil.
A consuming spirit and his hounds.
Hunting.
Consuming.
I turn over, reach beneath my bedside lamp, and pull the string.
The room goes dark.
But my thoughts are wide awake.
Somewhere on the northwest coast, Jude Vandenberg visits his dying grandfather. His mother’s dad. Why didn’t Jude live with him after his fatherdied? Why did he get stuck with Isabel? But then, maybe this grandfather didn’t want Jude, given the way his daughter met her end—right after giving birth to his grandson. The curse in action. I dreamt of it before I knew about it. Me, a descendant of Seraphina, destined to break the curse she cast.
I think of all the things that happened to bring that destiny into fruition. Luke Vandenberg dying. His grandson inheriting the estate. Rafe convincing Isabel to move across the sea. Jude, dragged along. Me, already here. Because my mother disappeared and we needed a fresh start, so we moved to Foggy Hollow with no idea that she was here, too, once upon a time.
Was she really chased through the woods, pursued by a snarling beast, or was that simply the workings of my overactive imagination? I’d been thinking about her before the vision struck. Trying to say goodbye, to let her go.
It’s why I threw the key into the well.
Which unlocks the crypt beneath St. Fortuna’s.
With amulets and journals and the remains of Seraphina’s locket andEzra’s Obsession, a centuries-old portrait that brought Jude and I together.
Now he’s far away, tending to a different grandfather.
I pull the covers tight to my chest, my stomachtwisting with longing and love and a deep desire to see him. If I thought very hard about the sensation, it would almost feel like hunger.
Twigs snap. A chorus of snarls and yips tear through the trees. Giant paws pound the forest floor as I lead the way, sweeping through the woods, my hunger a gnawing, primal ache. Her auburn hair flashes as she sprints ahead, tearing through vines and branches.
A howl splits the night.
She looks over her shoulder, her face a mask of terror.
Then she trips and falls and I’m falling, too.
Falling through nothing.
Scrambling for something.
Falling.
Falling.
Into the dark.
Into the cold.
