Moonlit hearts

feeling that something was watching her. The wind whispered through the trees outside, and the full moon hung heavy in the sky. The old bell above the door jing

fr

t ran down her spine. His pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight that filtered through the windows. But it was his eyes that caught her icy blue, pie

that was both haunting and familiar, as though she

ehind her. "We're closed." His smile

Thought I'd take a look.

ra. His dark clothing, the way he carried himself, the way his gaze held secrets, it all sent warning

ment flickering in his eyes. "Ah,

ickened. "What

re's history here," he said softly. "Old magic. And you..." He hesitated, as though

an down E

she demanded,

is time it was softer.

ripple through her familiar, yet impossib

estion, the old clock on the wa

was the rustling of pages in the breeze from the slightly open window. Eve exhaled, her h

haunted her, making it impossible to drift into unconsciousness. She to

und the lamp posts, clinging to the cobblestone sidewalks like ghostly fingers. As she approached the bookstore, a sense of unease settled over her. The door was slightly ajar. Eve frowned.

uttering despite the absence of a breeze. She stepped closer, her pulse hammering in her ears. The words on the pages weren't in English. The letters twisted and

uldn't b

Eve turned slowly and found herself staring into the same icy blue eyes that

is?" Eve asked, ges

ated. "It's

wed hard.

rkened. "Fr

through town, she couldn't ignore the way the townspeople spoke in hushed tones, how they glanced over their shoulders as if expecting someone

k troubl

ed, "Do you know someon

olloway's expression darkened.

last night. At

sed into a thin line.

owned.

s. "Because Rowan Blackwood has be

ndows. And in that moment, she knew Hawthorne Falls held secrets far olde

searching for anything that could explain what she had seen. Hours passed, and just when

Without a Trace.....Ro

istaking it. The man in the picture had the same piercing blue eyes, the same sharp feature

hts in the bookstore flickered. The temperature

eed to

mmering. The store was em

d, but it was still there: a silhouette of a figure whose eyes glowed red in the dim light. Her breath caught as the figure drifted cl

r phone. The last thing she saw before the figure van

thorne Falls alone. And if Rowan Blackwood had returned from the grave, it was only