Stepping Back by Sara Mackenzie - Stepping Back

Author:Sara Mackenzie - Stepping Back [Mackenzie, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Paranormal Romance, AcM
Amazon: B00EXXCSGE
Goodreads: 21277959
Publisher: Sara Mackenzie
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

This story was previously published in the book The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance, Running Press, edited by Trish Telep, 2009. Copyright Sara Mackenzie.

THE EAST WIND

by

SARA MACKENZIE

At first she thought it was the wind. The rattle of the door, the shaking of the narrow window panes. But the vicious east wind had lulled for a moment into a mournful keening about the streets and rooftops, and the knocking—rhythmic and insistent—continued.

If Oliver had been there he would have gone down and dealt with whoever it was. But Oliver was away on business and she was alone for the night. So she rose, pulling on her shawl, and, lighting the short stub of the candle, made her way from the bedroom, down the narrow staircase to the gloomy hall. The darkness was complete, the candle did little but lighten it a fraction, as she felt her way along the walls to the door and drew back the heavy bolts at top and bottom.

Outside the rain was sweeping the cobbles, driven in great arcs in the night sky. There was no one there. Puzzled, she stepped out into the street and held the candle as high as she dared, shielding it with her palm. Only darkness. Cold darkness that returned the glow of the candle like a black mirror. She did not see the dark shape behind her slip through the open door, but suddenly her blood felt chilled and a great shudder ran through her. Hastily she closed the door again, drawing herself up onto her toes to shoot home the top bolt. Outside the wind set up a long moaning, twisting through the narrow alleyways of the town. The walls of the house were creaking and groaning, for all the world like an old man turning in his sleep. She sighed and moved toward the stairs. And saw the flicker of a shadow, a movement in the darkness, and knew she was no longer alone.

At first she could not move, not an inch, not a single finger. She just stood there, the candle forgotten and wavering in her hand, the other lifted to brush back the hair from her eyes, the shawl slipping from her shoulders.

“Who is it?” she whispered, and her voice trembled like a leaf in the storm outside. The candle dipped; hot wax fell upon her fingers and she all but dropped it. The shadow before her shifted, rising up on the wall like a wave of black seawater, engulfing the fluttering light and snuffing it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The voice was low and deep, echoing about the walls. He came closer, and she felt his presence as if it were all about her, enfolding her. “I was passing. I wondered if you would still be living here . . .”

A feeling of amazement fused with recognition. She peered forward against the darkness. It seemed to shift and waver. The candle was smoking in her hand. “Tom?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Tom Harte?”

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