A Shadow's Kiss

She was dying.

Her health had been failing slowly for five beautiful, free years. She had walked on the sun-kissed sand of a hundred beaches from North Shore, Oahu, to Tamarindo, Costa Rica.

But she hadn’t escaped the life of a Shadow.

She didn’t want to die because death would mean the final irrevocable loss of hope. More importantly, if she broke the promise, her entire family would suffer for it.

“I do,” Anna forced herself to say, giving her consent. She held her hand out, proud that it didn’t shake. She had run for as long as she could, but she wouldn’t cower now that the time for running was past. She wouldn’t cringe—yet.

Haversham took the ring from the box and placed it on the third finger of her left hand. It was heavy and cold. The tarnished silver setting was much chunkier and ornate than modern sensibilities could appreciate. Then again, its purpose might affect her perceptions.

The ring fit her finger perfectly, but its chill was alien and ugly on her hand.

“Darkhaven is waiting,” Haversham sighed.

The house or the man or the curse? Anna wondered. Then she realized there was no distinction, at all.