Page 5 of Fierce Highland Magic

Only the storm.

Only the silver thistle warming my palm as if it had been waiting for me.

My heartbeat was hard enough to hurt.

There were explanations. There were always explanations.

Exhaustion. Poor visibility. A stress response. A neurological event requiring medical attention.

The final possibility wasn’t useful, so I tossed it aside.

I looked at the pin again.

Its sharp silver bloom had darkened at the edge with my blood.

"No," I told it.

The word sounded small in the weather. I shoved the pin, tissue and all, into my jacket pocket. Then I turned for the car. My headlights had gone out. The hazard lights still blinked, weak amber pulses in the rain. But the road ahead was dark.

No, different.

Fog had rolled across it, thick and white and far too quick. It filled the bend where I had come from, swallowing the familiar black strip of tarmac behind my car. The road ahead, however, shone beneath a pale wash of moonlight.

There had not been moonlight a moment ago.

A wooden sign stood at the junction beyond my car. I’m certain it had not been there before. The sign pointed left.

ACHNASHEE — 1 MILE

Below it, in smaller letters almost washed away by age: OLD ROAD.

I stood in the rain with the flashlight hanging uselessly at my side.

My GPS lit up on the dashboard. A new route had appeared. Turn left in 0.2 miles. Arrival: 12:06 a.m.

The inn's name had vanished. So had every other road on the map.

The only thing visible was a thin blue line leading toward Achnashee.

I got back into the car, locked the doors, and put both hands on the steering wheel.

The sensible thing was to turn around.

Except the road behind me had disappeared into fog so dense I could not see ten feet beyond the back window.

The sensible thing was to call Cat.

Except my phone still had no signal, and when I tapped her name, the screen filled with a single line of silver text.

NO MORTAL VOICE CROSSES AFTER MIDNIGHT.

I stared at it. Then the screen went dark.

The clock on the dashboard clicked.

11:49.

No.