Dark Halo (An Angel Eyes Novel) by Shannon Dittemore Page A

ready.”
    We start up the road, staying off the freeway as much as possible. After fifty yards or so, the trees and rocks on our right give way to a grassy, unkempt stretch of land. We rush through it toward the picket fence lining the keeper’s house. Crouching there, my pulse leaps and jumps, my heart skipping to catch up with it. Blood pounds against my eyes, and my hands go cold. I’m scared. And hopeful.
    But mostly I’m scared.
    The house is larger than I remember it. Two sets of stairs service the porch, one on the right and another on the left. Six steps up either takes you to the front door. Over it hangs a wooden hand-painted sign that says Bell’s Baked Goods. Through the branches of trees and over the awning on the porchthe lighthouse burns bright, its lens favoring us with its beam every few seconds. But the house itself is dark. No light in the windows or on the porch. The place looks empty. Abandoned. And suddenly I’m all doubt.
    What if I was wrong?
    What if we read the pages wrong?
    What if I misunderstood the Throne Room?
    Maybe I should have stayed.
    What if the Throne Room sent something else after we left, and we just drove to some abandoned lighthouse on the coast?
    “Elle!” Kaylee’s voice is a hiss coming at me from down the fence line. She’s sneaked to the back and is waving me over. Staying l only to be replaced by t for aow, though I’m not entirely sure why, I run to her side.
    “What is it?”
    “Olivia’s car,” she says with a nod of her head.
    “Oh.” Parked at the back of the property is a red BMW.
    “They’re here, Elle,” Kaylee says. “You were right.”
    “I was.” I kneel now and press my forehead to the fence. Between the slats I have a good view of the house and I focus. Hard.
    And then I pray.
    “God, help me see,” I say. Kaylee’s hand finds mine, and she squeezes. I focus harder.
    And then the wall before me thins away. It doesn’t change colors, it doesn’t glow, but I can see the dark room inside. Tables and chairs and a counter—everything wrapped in shadow.
    And empty.
    “Do you see anything?”
    I’m not used to seeing through walls without the celestial light. It’s weird. But maybe if I get closer. I throw my leg overthe fence and make for the front door. If Jake’s in there we have to be sure.
    Kaylee follows, though with a smidge less grace. Her Tasmanian Devil slipper gets caught on a loose board and she barely catches herself before her face connects with the ground.
    I reach down and pull her up.
    “Sorry, sorry. I thought we decided not to march in,” she says. “What did you see?”
    “Nothing,” I say. “I mean, I saw inside, but it’s . . . Let me try from up here.” I walk to the foot of the nearest staircase and try again. “Please,” I pray. “Please.”
    The front wall disappears almost immediately, but all I see is that the entryway and seating area are empty. I turn my attention up, through the ceiling of the converted living room and into the bedrooms above. Gorgeous Victorian-style furnishings, but completely vacant.
    “I don’t think there’s anyone here, Kay.”
    And then a cruel chuckle shakes my insides. “Oh, but there is.”
    Kaylee screams, but I’m too shocked to make a sound. Before I can move, Damien’s hand knots in my hair. He lifts Kaylee, screaming and flailing, and tucks her under his arm like a football. He doesn’t bother keeping her quiet; he likes the fear. He yanks me by the hair, pushing me before him, up the stairs and through the front door.
    Despite the aged, Victorian feel the house gives from the outside, the inside is a mashup of cozy and modern. Crisp, square tables in oak are surrounded by bright yellow chairs and spaced evenly throughout the room.">index cards marking them for what they hold—as my mind flies through options stupid and implausible.
    I could run. Try to get away. He has Kaylee, and it would be hard for him to keep track of us both. Hard, but not impossible.