Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Vivienne staggered, reaching out blindly for support. Brooks dropped his kit and moved to steady her, alarmed by how cold her skin felt through her jacket.
“I’m fine.” Her voice came weak and her lips had taken on a bluish tinge. “Just need a moment.”
“You’re hypothermic. In this weather, that shouldn’t be possible.”
Jack nodded. “Gets into your bones if you stay too long, especially if you’re the type to see things others can’t.”
Brooks helped her to a sun-warmed boulder and checked her pulse and breathing. Her heart rate ran high but her temperature seemed to stabilize in direct sunlight.
“What did you see?”
“Terror.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Someone brought Melissa Clarkson here against her will. She was terrified, fighting, but they were stronger. The fear is embedded in this place—it’s why the water looks so dark, why nothing grows here. Too much violence, too much death.”
Jack just shrugged. “Told you she was sensitive. Some folks pick up emotional echoes from traumatic events. This place’s got more echoes than most.”
Her physical reaction was real and her previous insights had proven accurate. Whatever she experienced—whether beyond reason or unconscious reading of environmental cues—it provided information that aligned with what he’d found.
“Can you make it back up the path?” Brooks asked. He gathered the bags while staying close enough to offer support.
“Yes.” She stood with care. “The impressions fade once I move away from the source. Just takes a moment to process.”
He steadied her with one hand while securing everything with the other. Together they began the ascent. Her condition improved with each step away from the black water.
Halfway up, footsteps echoed from the forest above them—not the careful tread of hikers, but deliberate movement from someone trying to remain undetected. Brooks paused, listening for voices or additional sounds, but heard only the continued disturbance of undergrowth.
“Keep moving.” Jack followed them up the trail. “Too many observers. Best not to give them time to get a good look at what you found.”
Vivienne needed to get somewhere warm and safe. He concentrated on helping her climb, watching as color began to return to her face with distance from the water below.
At the top of the bluff, they paused to rest. From this height, the water looked normal blue-green, and the wrecked ships looked like ordinary maritime casualties rather than monuments to violence.
“Perspective matters in places like that.” Jack followed his gaze. “What you see depends on where you stand and what you’re willing to believe.”
The sounds of someone moving through the forest had stopped, but fresh breaks in branches marked the path they had taken—damage that hadn’t existed during their descent. Whoever had followed them had turned back but left clear traces of their presence.
“Thank you for your help.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You found something, sure enough. But knowing what happened here is just the beginning.”
Jack headed toward the harbor while Brooks helped Vivienne back to his car. She had stopped shivering but still felt cold to the touch.
“I’m sorry.” She spoke as he started the engine and turned the heat to maximum. “I should have warned you about the effects. My grandmother always said we pay a price for the things we sense.”
He adjusted the vents to blow warm air at her. “What exactly did you experience down there?”
“Fear. Overwhelming terror from someone who knew they were going to die. Melissa was there, but she wasn’t alone. Someone brought her, someone who had done this before. The cold comes from accumulated fear—decades of it, maybe longer.”
Looking at her pale face and the way she focused on steadying her breathing, his priorities shifted. She exhausted herself for this case, using abilities that took a physical and emotional toll.
“You need to rest. You’ve done enough for today.”
“I’ll be fine once I’m back at the shop.” Her voice stayed weak. “The protective wards there will help restore my energy. It’s just the residual effects of strong negative emotions—they drain psychic sensitives.”
He couldn’t deny what he’d witnessed. Whether mystical or not, she had experienced something real and debilitating. And her insights, however derived, had led them to concrete proof.
“I’ll drop you at The Mystic Cup. Then I need to brief Chief Sullivan.”
“What I sensed will be confirmed.” Her eyes closed as she absorbed the car’s warmth. “Melissa Clarkson was held there. But they moved her before we arrived. The question now is where—and whether she’s still alive.”
He drove in silence, processing the day’s discoveries. Physical proof, Vivienne’s disturbing experience, Old Jack’s cryptic warnings about the location’s violent history. It pointed to something far more sinister than a simple missing persons case.
When they reached The Mystic Cup, she had recovered enough to walk inside on her own, though she moved with care. He waited until he saw lights come on in her apartment above the shop before driving back to the station.