Prologue from The Baron’s Shadows (Shadows of Deringham #2)
This manuscript is still being edited – some language and content is subject to change in the final published book.
Julia’s breath misted before her in the moonlight, short, sharp puffs vanishing into the fog. Trees emerged from the haze, impassive witnesses to her flight. A promise of warmth and safety lay ahead; the lights of Deringham Castle, its parapets a jagged shield against the blue-black sky. But no matter how far nor fast Julia ran, it never drew any closer.
Branches snapped behind her. Leaves crunched. Malice filled the darkness at her back.
She did not know what it was. Only that she should not let it catch her.
“Julia!”
The urgent whisper gave her pause. A head poked out from behind a tree trunk, moonlight catching on blonde curls. Julia ran toward it, relieved to see a friendly face. One that looked very much like her own.
“There is a shortcut,” her mother said. “This way!”
Julia followed her into the trees, the swish of her mother’s skirts sending eddies of mist whirling about their feet.
The fog thickened as they stepped off the path. Deringham Castle and its welcoming lights vanished behind a wall of grey. The sounds of snapping branches grew muffled. Distant. As if Julia had been cut off from the world entirely, her existence narrowed to the sound of her own panting breaths and her mother’s form gliding like a ghost through the mist.
A tree trunk loomed out of nowhere. Julia hissed as her shoulder clipped it. “Mama, I cannot see.”
The ghostly figure turned, thrusting a hand out of the fog. “Take my hand, I will lead you.”
Julia made to reach for it—then drew back.
“Come, darling,” her mother insisted. “Let me help you.”
Unease crept up Julia’s spine. The air felt colder here. Even more so around the hand held out before her.
“I need to find Gabriel,” she said uncertainly. “I want to go home.” She suddenly regretted her choice to step off the path. At least she could see the castle from there.
“Yes, we are going home. Let me show you the way.”
Her unease deepened. Mary Woodrow had never called Deringham “home.” She had died long before Julia ever set foot in it.
Dreaming. Julia was dreaming.
“Hurry, darling, don’t let it catch up.” The thing-that-was-not-her-mother reached closer, an impatient jerk of her outstretched hand.
Julia lurched away and dashed into the trees, back toward the path. She had been caught here before. She knew how it would end—and she had no wish to see it. Maybe if she reached the castle she would wake up. She only needed to wake up.
Her mother’s voice echoed after her. “It’s coming for you! Let me protect you!”
The moonlit mist grew heavy and dense, the air now redolent of rot and decay. Julia stumbled to a halt, clamping a hand over her mouth. But too late. It was already in her nose, filling her throat. She gagged, struggling between the need to breathe and her aversion to inhaling any more of that revolting stench.
Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream…
This mantra raced through her mind as panic raced through her veins. It felt too real. Smelled too real.
Something crunched underfoot, unseen in the thick haze. Too large and solid to be leaves. She stumbled away from it, only for more sickening cracks and snaps to echo through the mist with every step.
Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream…
Her own pounding heart nearly masked the heavy, thudding footfalls at her back. Gaining rapidly.
Then the true nightmare was upon her.