He had never met someone with a curse like his. But this man didn’t seem to view it as a curse. He appeared very competent with the skill, having much more control over it than Dane. It was almost as if this guy saw it as a gift rather than a curse. Dane had never become comfortable about possessing something that ultimately made him weird and different.
Tension marked the man’s brow but quickly smoothed, replaced with an easy-going expression when he smiled at Cybil. “Do you like rainbows?”
She nodded.
“Look, just over the trees.” The man pointed. In the distance arced one of the most radiant rainbows Dane had ever seen. “Sometimes, after something very bad happens, something good follows.”
The breeze shifted and wind chimes tinkled in the distance. Shadows moved across the ground as clouds rolled overhead. The murky gray sky brightened to a vibrant blue, and the sun suddenly blazed above.
Cybil smiled at the man as if he was somehow due credit, and Dane scowled. He’d woken from a nightmare only to land in some twisted dream. As if someone could control the weather…
He raced after them, planning to call the police as soon as he found his phone.
Chapter 24
Abilene hefted the heavy copper pot to the cellar door. The familiar scent of cool, musty earth greeting her as she carefully navigated the stairs. A strip of sunlight divided the room, chasing away shadows where unsettled dust motes danced in the air.
Opening the grate, she lit the kindling and poured soap into the cast iron tub. As bubbles formed and the water heated, she swept the cement floor and then sorted the linens.
The day was surprisingly sunny, but there was still a bite in the air. It had been an unpredictable autumn and she expected an even more unpredictable winter. They had already had a dusting of snow, and not a day later, the children were running through the fields in short sleeves and bare feet. What was becoming of the world?
The room warmed as the fire burned. Steam filled the air, laced with the fresh scent of soap. Unlatching the shutters to let more light in, she stilled when a low growl rumbled from the dim corner.
The hair at the nape of her neck rose against her bonnet. She was not alone.
Stretching her senses, she spotted the glimmer of a cobweb in the corner and the soft scurry of a mouse racing by. “Who’s there?” Eyes, at a male’s height, flashed from the darkness. “Jonas?”
Another growl exploded into a roaring hiss, and she screamed. Her husband charged from the shadows, fangs bared and claws drawn. He tackled her to the ground, knocking the wind from her lungs and cutting off her shrieks.
Rabid, he snarled in her face and she shoved at him, unable to escape his weight. With a sharp swipe of his talons, he clawed open her dress, cutting her flesh.
“Jonas! Please! It’s me!”
Hairpins stabbed into her scalp as she fought him, but he was possessed and lost beyond reason. His claws cut into her flesh as he wrenched her skirts up to her knees. She kicked and screamed, covering her face from the horrific way he snarled at her.
“Jonas, don’t! Please! You’re hurting me!”
Her bare legs twisted beneath him, her skin burning with every scratch. He shoved and shook her, slamming her back into the cold ground, forcing her to be silent.
She cried, unsure what to do. The sharp bite of his claws through her dress triggered her feral instincts, unleashing a growl, she lashed out with all of her strength. She bared her fangs and snapped her jaw, fierce and formidable. Swiping her claws across his face, she kicked him off and bolted to her feet.
He snarled at her, rivulets of red streaming from his eyes and the claw marks on his face. A feral growl ripped from his throat and he launched into the air.
He came down on her smaller body with predatory speed, biting cruelly into her neck. Her scream faded to a gurgle as he dragged her to the cold floor, grinding his body over hers, his eyes delirious with bloodlust, his emotions unrecognizable to her.
He had always been stronger but never used his strength in a way that made her weak. Until now.
Shutting her eyes, she surrendered to his will and cried, no longer fighting but accepting that if she lay still, it would all be over soon.
It was not her husband that touched her but a stranger in his flesh and clothes. A predator stealing the last speck of vitality and joy from its prey. Perhaps he would drink her life away and leave her there to die. The longer it went on, the less she feared such an outcome.
Her throat was raw, too abused to swallow. She coughed and gasped, hating her body’s instinct to breathe when the act cost her so much pain.