CHAPTER 1
Boston
Present Day
If pickingthe right guy was as simple as finding the perfect dress with pockets, most women would be set for life.
Daisy Smith ran her hands down the flattering plum-colored maxi dress, with pockets, thank you very much, as she looked at Frankie, the mutt she’d rescued from the shelter, who was currently sprawled across the unmade bed. Twirling around in a circle, watching the multi-colored tassels on the hem of the dress spin, she tilted her head at her fur baby.
“What do you think? Will Shawn like it?”
Frankie cocked his head to the side, then rolled over on the bed with a yawn.
With a frown at the reflection staring back at her from the full-length mirror, Daisy took off three rings, two necklaces, and five bangle bracelets, dumping them on the apple green desk. Shawn was conservative and quiet, some of her outfits embarrassed him, especially when they were with his friends.
Tonight was the night he was going to ask her to move in together. They’d been dating for almost three months, everything had been picture perfect, and she was ready.
Stability.
Normalcy.
Security.
Shawn representedthe things she’d always wanted in life, and if sometimes he made her feel like she wasn’t good enough for him, she knew that deep down, he didn’t really mean to make her feel that way.
Born and raised in Boston, Shawn exuded old money and respectability, and if sometimes she was bored when they were together or uninterested in listening to him talk about finance or his snooty friends, then that was just part of being in a relationship. All relationships required compromise.
He came from old money, whereas she’d grown up very differently. Not to mention he’d graduated from Harvard, while she’d dropped out of community college after a year, unable to take the pressure of deciding what to do with the rest of her life.
With a last glance in the mirror, Daisy went to the bed, kissed Frankie on the head, ruffling his silky ears, and nodded to herself.
“It will be fine. Everything will work out.”
1311
Blackford Castle, England
Samhain
Callan Graham tookthe stairs two at a time, heart pounding in his chest as he ran after William and Jason. The wee lad had come running, screaming for his father, telling William the bad lady had his mama.
Agnes. The blood-thirsty wench.
As they burst through the door and out onto the battlements, the raging storm assaulted his senses. The wind howled, rain lashed his face, and as William ran past him, Callan saw they were too late.
“You can be damn sure I won’t be planting any flowers on your grave,” Lucy snarled into the wind. “Let the fish feast on your rotten corpse.”
Agnes was no more. Let the sea take her. As Callan leaned over, hands on his knees to catch his breath, he saw William pull his wife into his arms, Jason holding onto his father’s leg.
He took a step forward, ready to offer whatever aid he could, when the air changed, sending a frisson of fear down his back.
“The bad lady is gone, gone.” Jason chortled.
“Aye, your mother is most fearsome.” Callan said.
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, a prickling sensation that warned of an ancient, powerful presence. The scent of the sea mingled with something far older, a power that made his blood run cold. Once, when he was but a wee lad, he’d discovered an ancient battlefield and felt the same all-knowing presence.
Blinking against the rain, Lucy jumped when the lightning struck.
