How could she cope with these feelings? On top of that, how could she be bonded by blood to Angele’s descendent, the young woman who had destroyed the last part of light in her heart, and ushered in the darkness?

She was suddenly hit with an intense hunger pang, and she cried out.

* * *

Amelia awoke with a gasp and sat up quickly. She could remember voices in her dreams but not the muffled ones from the stone circle. Clear voices asking her to go somewhere, but where she wasn’t sure.

When she and Byron had made love last night, it was as if some switch had been clicked, opening up her mind to the voices.

She looked to the side and saw Byron sleeping soundly. It always made her happy to see that Byron was sleeping so deeply, so contentedly. Byron told her she’d never slept through the night when she was on her own. An hour or so was all that she could manage.

Amelia was proud and fulfilled that she could be that for Byron and give her the comfort that she deserved. Then she heard it. The voices from her dreams were ringing in her head.

Go to her. Go to her.

She looked at the bedside clock. It read five thirty a.m. Amelia scrubbed her face. Something had changed since last night. The muffled voices were loud, chattering, and clear.

Amelia sat up on the side of the bed. Now that she was fully awake, the voices were even clearer.

Go to her. Through the trees.

Before she could think about it too deeply, Amelia had pulled on her jeans and a jumper and was writing a note for Byron. Gone for a walk.

When she got outside, the voices got louder. Every step she took, they got louder still. She walked into the cover of the trees.

“You are such an idiot,” Amelia told herself.

This was the kind of situation in a horror film that had you screaming at a character’s stupidity. Yet here she was. She had been walking for about five minutes, the voices getting louder all the time, when she came out to a clearing.

There in the clearing was a perfect little cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. Amelia got chills running down her spine. It felt like she was in some twisted fairy tale, and a wicked witch or a wolf would eat her all up. But she had to keep going now—whatever these voices were, they were willing her to this cottage, and she had to find out why. Even if Byron would kill her for it.

The door of the cottage was slightly ajar, and as she got closer, she could smell the breakfast cooking. In her horror movie Amelia would be shouting even louder at the screen, Get out of there! Turn back!