Face the Fire (Three Sisters Island Trilogy) by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts [Roberts, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781587889677
Publisher: CD
Published: 2002-06-01T18:40:50.671000+00:00

I had chosen differently, daughter, perhaps you would not be here now. Would not

be what you are. So I have no regrets. Will you say the same at the end of your

time?”

“I cherish my gift and bring no harm. I live my life, and live it well.”

“As did I.” She spread her arms. “We hold this place, but the time grows short.

See.” She gestured to where the fog boiled along the edge of the rocks. “It craves most what it cannot have, and what it cannot have will, in the end, defeat it.”

“What is there to do that I haven’t done?” Mia demanded. “What’s left for me?”

“Everything.” With that last word, she vanished.

And Mia was alone.

Lulu was alone. Sleeping deeply under her hodgepodge quilt, floating on dreams.

Unaware of the dark mists gathering outside her house, rising up to slither around her windows. And through the cracks.

She stirred, she shivered, when that cold mist slid over her, snuck under the covers to crawl over her skin. With a little sound of protest, she burrowed deeper under the quilt, but found no warmth.

She heard the baby crying, long wails of misery. In a mother’s automatic response, she tossed the covers aside, rose in the dark, and started out of the

bedroom.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

In the dream she walked, sleepily, down the long corridor of the house on the cliff. She felt the smooth wood under her feet—and not the rough grass of her own yard as she left her house, moving through the thickening fog. Her eyes were

open, but she saw the door to the baby’s room, and not the street where she walked, the quiet houses she passed.

She didn’t see or sense the black wolf stalking behind her.

She reached out, opened the door that wasn’t there as she trudged around the corner toward the beach.

The crib was empty, and the baby’s wails became screams of terror.

“Mia!” She ran, hurling herself across High Street, which was a maze of corridors in her mind. “Where are you?”

She ran, breath heaving, fear rising as she pounded on locked doors and raced toward the sound of the baby’s cries.

She fell, scoring her hands on the sand of the beach and feeling her fingers dig

into thick carpet. She was weeping, calling for her baby as she pushed herself

to her feet, swayed, then raced on. In the dream she flew down the main staircase and out into the black night, then plunged into the sea.

The surf knocked her back, knocked her down, but in a blind fury to find and protect her child, she fought her way up again, pushed her way through the waves.

Even as the water closed over her head, her eyes were open, and the baby’s screams pounded in her ears.

There was a great weight on her chest, and the sharp taste of vomit in her throat. She gagged, heaved again.

“She’s breathing. It’s okay, Lulu, take it easy.”

Her eyes burned, refused to focus. Through the haze over them she made out Zack’s face. Water dripped from his hair and onto her cheeks.

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