Incendiary

Cold, fine drops of rain fall softly on Evie's cheeks as she emerges from the darkness of the ship's interior to the gray, overcast sky of the main deck. Pulling her dark peacoat tighter to her body, the wind lifts red tendrils of her hair. She walks slowly to the railing overlooking the water.

She catches her first sight of the Irish coastline; its craggy landscape makes her shiver in dread. She finds it difficult to imagine now how the Gancanagh had made this their home for so long without anyone realizing it. The cold, moss-covered edifices practically scream their presence. As she studies the shadows between the falling-down stone, she imagines creeping shapes of undead Faeries grasping the rock, waiting for their ship to draw nearer to their position.

Tipping her face up, she lets the rain wash over her. It bathes away the frigid sweat of fear that has broken on her brow. "You don't know how fiercely beautiful you are, do you?" a quiet voice behind her asks, causing her to stiffen and fix her eyes on the rocks along the shoreline.

© 2013 Tantor Media (Hljóðbók): 9781452684185

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Hljóðbók: 23 september 2013