Fire on the Island by J. K. Hogan Read Free Book Online Page B

confused
to find another person out in the middle of the night, Isla approached
cautiously, hoping the man was somehow related to the little boy. Her surroundings
began to go out of focus as the grey fog closed in around them, and Isla tried
to hang onto the memory of what she had been doing. Her mind suddenly felt as
foggy as the clearing.
    She stared at
the man as he stood there, watching her watch him. He was so handsome, with
black hair and pale blue eyes set deep in dark sockets, skin smooth and white
as the driven snow. His face was sharp and chiseled, cheeks hollow. His full,
red lips quirked up in an easy half-smile. Trying to pull her gaze away from his
mesmerizing, shadowy eyes, she shook her head and forced her brain to think.
    "Did you
see the boy?" she asked, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.
    The man merely
smiled. And watched.
    Inexplicably,
Isla found herself compelled to approach him. A hint of alarm caused her
stomach to clench because she didn't want to fight the urge—she wasn't normally
so cavalier about her own safety.
    Pushing off
from the tree, the stranger walked forward to meet her. He stopped a couple of
feet in front of her and waited. Isla was dimly aware of her state of dress,
pajama bottoms, tank top, and bare feet, but she couldn't bring herself to
care.
    Her eyes met
his and she saw shadows twisting and turning in his opalescent gaze. She felt
as if she were being pulled in, her mind being separated from her physical
body. Frightened, Isla tried to back away and found that she was no longer able
to move. Panic blossomed and Isla tried to break eye contact with the stranger,
but she wasn't able to do that either.
    As she stared,
unable to break away, the man's face began changing. Before her eyes, a sign
manifested on his forehead, a primitive glyph that resembled a human eye. It
looked eerily similar to what the Celts called an “evil eye.” His eyes flashed
and his lips pulled back into a deadly snarl.
    Isla trembled
uncontrollably, knowing that she was in danger, but unable to move a muscle to
do anything but shiver. The malevolence reached for her face with bony fingers
and began to caress her cheek, making her skin crawl. She could practically
feel the evil rolling off of him in waves.
    Just when he
extended razor sharp claws from the tips of those corpse-like fingers, a
horrific howl pierced the night, and she was jolted out of the trance the
creature held her in, feeling those claws slicing her skin just as the vision
dissipated.
    Suddenly fully
aware, Isla looked up to find that she wasn't in a clearing in the woods, but
on one of the moors where she stood in front of a primitive stone circle. She
had believed herself familiar with all of the ancient ruins on the island, but
she didn't recognize this one.
    She turned in a
slow circle, taking stock of her new surroundings, wincing at the pain in her
bare feet. She froze when she locked her jade green gaze with the wolf's pale blue
one. Remembering the howl that had broken the creature's hold on her, she had
the feeling that the wolf meant her no harm. As she watched it, the wolf cocked
his head at her, and then slid down until his belly rested on the cold ground
and bowed his head.
    Isla recognized
this as a submissive position, so she relaxed slightly. Quickly she reminded
herself of her vulnerable position alone out on the moor, and remaining here
would risk the depraved creature returning. As if coming to the same
conclusion, the wolf let out three short barks and a growl in her direction.
    Not needing to
be told twice, Isla took off running in the direction she hoped was home.

Chapter
Six
     
    Jeremiah sat
stretched out on the couch in the living room of his rented cottage, staring
out the window that looked out to the sea. He had his most prized possession, a
'72 Fender Telecaster Thinline guitar—gorgeous lady that she was—sitting on his
lap, and he was teasing out a run from Jonny Lang's I Am . Listening to
and